Poland: A Novel Part 14

Now the three generals hesitated, and the watchers could not antic.i.p.ate how the problem of the baton was to be settled. Then the Duke of Lorraine placed one delicate forefinger on the emblem, and immediately Waldeck did the same, and slowly, gravely they pushed the baton to where Sobieski stood. When he realized that he was to serve as commander in chief of all the armies, he lifted the baton, kissed it, and said: 'It shall be my duty to bring us victory,' and the watchers cheered.

But when they sat down to a frugal dinner, each man knowing that a great battle and possible death waited only a few days away and a few miles distant, a difficulty of the most dangerous kind arose, at first only a raised eyebrow, but, potentially a disaster that could destroy the alliance.

Sobieski, as commander in chief, sketched on paper provided by Duke Charles the plan of battle. 'We are three armies, all twenty miles west of Vienna. How we march to that city and in what formation may determine the outcome of the battle. There is an easy route, the left flank along the Danube. There is a very difficult route, the right flank through the high hills of the Vienna Woods. And there is a route half-easy, half-difficult, down the center.'

The generals-some dozen of them-nodded agreement, for they had studied this terrain.

'What I propose is that we Poles take the extremely difficult right flank through the mountains and the woods. We have the men and horses to haul our cannon across the ravines.' All favored this gallant proposal, but now they leaned forward to catch the next decision, the important one. 'I think, strongly, that Prince Waldeck and his Germans, who have not fought in this kind of terrain before, should a.s.sume the left flank, along the Danube.' Then, very quickly, before there could be the protest which he was sure would arise, he snapped out: 'And the Austrians will come down the center.' Some of the generals gasped, and when two started to exclaim, he knew he was in trouble.

For several centuries the armies of Europe, when marching to battle, had observed a convention which stated that the right flank const.i.tuted the position of highest honor, and in the present situation all agreed that Sobieski had priority in that claim. He was a king, he was commander in chief, and he had repeatedly proven his ability. But the position of second honor was always the left flank, while traditionally, the weakest force or the one led by a general with dubious reputation occupied the center, from which he could not run away, since the two flanks led by heroes would hem him in.

In an army composed of troops from one nation only, it was a simple matter for the king or commander to a.s.sign the center position to his weakest general, and the latter had to accept because he usually realized that he was the weakest. But in a coalition when national honor was at stake, the leader of that coalition incurred a grave risk when he a.s.signed the troops of one nation, in this instance Austria, to the center.

'Sire!' a lesser Austrian general cried. 'It would be a requirement which the Duke of Lorraine could not accept, to occupy the center.'

'He cannot!' several other irate Austrians agreed, whereupon Sobieski appealed to the duke, praying that the latter would graciously accept, but Charles was a man of the most sensitive pride, and he said with no embarra.s.sment: 'As leader of the forces of the host country, it would be highly improper of me to place my troops in the center.'

A tense silence filled the little room in which these men were plotting strategies which would determine the fate of many nations, and all hung in the balance until Sobieski performed an act that won him the enthusiastic support of all; he left his place at the head of the table, walked ponderously to where Prince Waldeck sat, and bowed low before him, his ma.s.sive belly seeming to touch the floor. 'Honored Prince, I have just made an unforgivable mistake. I overlooked the honor of a great champion. Duke Charles has every claim on the left flank, and I beg you to accept the center.' Before Waldeck could respond, the king said: 'To you will go the honor of facing Kara Mustafa himself. For in the Turkish line of battle the center is the place of honor.' And then, still afraid of Waldeck's reaction, he continued: 'I know what I speak about, Prince, because in my battles against the Turks, I always chose the center so that I could get to their commander myself.'

While Sobieski remained in his supplicating position, the German generals conferred, and in the end Prince Waldeck said, with obvious sincerity: 'This battle will be big enough for any position to be one of honor. I accept your placement.'

A sigh filled the room, and when Sobieski was back in his chair he asked: 'And what do we know about the Turkish position?' Now Duke Charles a.s.sumed command. 'As you just said, Kara Mustafa in the center, and a very dangerous opponent he is. But I do believe he has already committed a fatal error. He has split his troops. About forty percent of the best remain preoccupied with besieging Vienna. Only sixty percent have been moved into the battle line to oppose us.'

The generals engaged in vigorous discussion of this critical mistake; they could not comprehend how a military man as successful as Kara Mustafa could allow it, and when they were satisfied that he had indeed made it and was persisting in it, they agreed that this opened a chance for victory.

'And where will the twenty thousand Tatar hors.e.m.e.n be?' Sobieski asked.

Duke Charles rubbed his chin and said: 'Now, there we have a problem. They are far removed, on the Turkish left flank. This means that when you come through the Vienna Woods, Poland, you will have to face first the ravines in the hills, then the Turkish cavalry when you break through, and always the threat of the Tatar attack on your flank, each footfall of the way.'

'Where exactly are they camped?'

'Here. From where they can strike at your flank, no matter where you are.'

'Well,' Sobieski said, 'we fight on two fronts. East against the Turks, south against the Tatars. Pray G.o.d they don't both hit us at the same time.'

'They will,' the duke said, and Sobieski nodded; he had faced joint enemies before. But now he asked: 'Who is leading the Tatars?' and the duke replied: 'Khan Murad,' at which Sobieski frowned. 'The best. I've fought him twice. The best.'

Count Lubonski asked: 'And how is General Lubomirski, inside the city?'

'It's very difficult for us to receive messages from inside,' the Duke of Lorraine said. 'A few daring souls sneak out between the Turkish lines. They say the city's starving. Starhemberg is valiant, no doubt about it. And Lubomirski is a pillar of strength.'

'And Emperor Leopold?' Lubonski asked.

The duke looked away, unwilling to answer that difficult question, but a lesser Austrian general did, allowing no inflection of any kind to creep into his voice: 'When danger threatened, Emperor Leopold and his women fled the capital, heading for Linz, a hundred miles west of here. With him he took six thousand of our best troops.' No one spoke, so after a while the general added: 'He pointed out that in a time when disaster threatened a nation, it was important that the emperor be kept safe so that he could ensure guidance ... if the battle was lost.'

'I understand that feeling,' Sobieski said generously, but he could not approve the cowardice; as King of Poland he had volunteered to march more than two hundred miles to antic.i.p.ate trouble and strangle it before it could injure his country.

At this solemn moment Prince Waldeck said: 'We face a bad terrain and a terrible foe. But the salvation of a great city depends upon us, and the preservation of Christianity. May G.o.d allow us to be valiant.' And on this prayer the remarkable meeting at Hollabrunn broke up. Three vain and strong-minded men had met, judged one another, and formed an alliance which would not be broken, regardless of the adversity which threatened it.

On the morning after he was created commander in chief, Jan Sobieski launched his remorseless attack on the Turks besieging the city, and although his three armies were still twenty miles away from the battleground, they began to take those effective steps which would qualify them for victory. Duke Charles, with his 23,000 Austrians, moved slowly down the right bank of the Danube, exercising care lest he get too far ahead of his allies, who had to traverse much more difficult terrain, and in proper time he established his headquarters at Klosterneuburg, not far from the Turkish front lines. Prince Waldeck, with his 28,000 Germans, hacked his way through moderately difficult areas to reach a point from which he would be able, on the day of battle, to thrust directly at Kara Mustafa's center.

Jan Sobieski and his Poles had an infinitely more difficult task; first he had to move from Hollabrunn, over low and marshy land, to a point opposite the Danube town of Tulln, and there he had to a.s.semble pontoon bridges which would lift his troops across the river and onto the side of the Danube where the Turks waited. This required four agonizing days, on each of which he expected Khan Murad and his Tatar hors.e.m.e.n to attack. 'If they hit us when we're on the river, they win,' he told his generals, but for some incomprehensible reason of their own the Tatars did not strike. Scouts reported that all twenty thousand were waiting in a camp only a few miles distant.

Once across the Danube, the real struggle began, because according to plan, the Poles were required to march well south from Tulln, then turn sharply east through the lovely and historic Vienna Woods, an area of low mountains, rolling hills and occasional small streams.

Mountains worry generals and horses; they terrify peasants, who know that horses are too valuable to be used hauling cannon up steep slopes, and therefore it would be they, using ropes and skids, who would do the work. Now Janko learned what warfare was, because he and eighteen men older than himself were a.s.signed to one rope, another two dozen to a second rope, and three dozen to the job of turning the heavy wheels by hand, grabbing first one spoke, then the next as the cannon made its way slowly up the hills.

It was murderous work, from the fourth of September to the tenth, and on two occasions, as they struggled in the fiercely hot summer sun, they saw on the crests of hills to their right bands of Tatar hors.e.m.e.n who kept track of their progress. When these men from the steppes would strike, no one could guess, but if they did so now, when the entire Polish flank was exposed, they could create havoc.

As he slaved over the cannon with Janko, Piotr, sweating and swearing in his monk's garb as he hauled on the ropes, advised: 'Only the hussars know how to make war, Janko. They don't waste their horses on work like this.' At dusk he was too exhausted to seek out the cavalry encampment, but at dawn he had to go back to the cannon.

It was brutal work, and it succeeded only because Kara Mustafa refused to believe his Tatar scouts when they reported that the Poles were dragging their cannon right over the mountains. It was inconceivable to him, accustomed as he was to orderly battle in which one army approached the other on flat ground, that Sobieski could move an entire army across terrain as rugged as the Vienna Woods and come out on the right flank prepared for battle. And as to the possibility that the Poles would bring cannon and hussars through such forests-he dismissed the idea.

So inch by inch, while the Austrians and the Germans waited in their prepared camps, Sobieski's men crept through the gra.s.sy woodlands, watching always for the attack of the Tatars who could have destroyed them so easily.

On 10 September, Janko and Piotr, straining at their ropes, reached the crest of the final hill, and when they looked eastward they sighted something that both horrified and enchanted them. Before the walls of Vienna, and for as far as their eyes would carry, were the tents and the guns and the emplacements of the huge Turkish army, dug in and waiting. Piotr gasped: 'It's like a field of flowers. They're everywhere.' But Janko looked in silence, realizing that within the next days he and the other peasants, armed only with clubs and knives, would be expected to march through that vast a.s.sembly of tents and battle the men now waiting in them. It was an awesome moment, and the boy appreciated its gravity.

The Poles spent the next day making their way down the steep slopes and onto the level ground on which the battle would be conducted, and now Piotr and his men had to tie their ropes to the rear of their cannon, and work just as hard to keep it from running down the hill as they had done to drag it up.

When the fearful pa.s.sage was completed, the Polish forces a.s.sumed battle formation, still waiting for the Tatar strike-which never came. 'Khan Murad must be mad to have allowed us to come down that final slope unopposed,' Sobieski said as he reviewed the disposition of his troops. 'But for that favor we thank Almighty G.o.d. Now if Murad strikes, we can repel him.'

The roles of the men from Bukowo were clearly understood: Count Lubonski would ride not with the hussars, for they were a special force, but with the gentry's cavalry. He would be supported on horseback by Lukasz, a man of proven heroism. Brat Piotr would march with the foot soldiers, brandishing a pike. And Janko would tend the extra horses, which he would keep close to Lubonski in case either the count or Lukasz might need a remount. All four would be in the location of greatest honor, the right flank of the right flank. 'May G.o.d permit us to deport ourselves with bravery,' Lubonski said as he explained their responsibilities.

On the evening before battle Supreme Commander Sobieski, surveying the field from the courtyard of a church high on a hill, told his a.s.sociates three things: 'Kara Mustafa continues to divide his forces, half at the walls, half here. Our flanks will hara.s.s the Turks badly, but we must depend upon you Germans to punish the main body. And although our Polish position is strong, with our cannon in place, we are still vulnerable on our right flank, for the Tatar cavalry is waiting until we get stretched out. We shall have to watch carefully.'

Duke Charles asked when Sobieski intended to release his winged hussars, and the king said regretfully: 'We've scouted the land in front of us, and it's too uneven for a major cavalry charge. The Turks have cut trenches across it. But once we get past that, about four in the afternoon, I'll set them free.'

'How long do you expect the battle to last?' the German prince asked, and Sobieski said with great caution: 'No battle of this size can be decided in a single day. But by the night of the second day, if G.o.d supports us, we shall have a victory.' And the generals prayed.

While Sobieski and his generals were planning their attack on the Turkish camp, Kara Mustafa was urging his men, sometimes with whips and hangings, to speed the capture of Vienna. If the sappers could place their charges beneath the walls and at various spots throughout the city and explode them before the coalition forces could strike from the west, his Janissaries would be able to storm into the city and capture it before the battle even began. His sappers were so skilled in their work-engineers from France, Germany, Italy and Hungary-that the ground underneath the city was beginning to resemble a honeycomb, and his experts a.s.sured him that the explosions would become possible sometime around the middle of September, less than a week away. On his crucial gamble, Kara Mustafa seemed to have won, and as he moved about, always wearing his green silk cord, he exuded confidence.

Certainly those inside the city were aware of the likelihood of its fall. General Lubomirski, endeavoring to maintain discipline among his starving Polish troops, tried not to hear the sounds of the sappers underfoot, and once when he was inspecting conditions in Anna Ga.s.se and came upon the beautiful small house at Number 22, he shuddered when he heard the distinct sounds of Turkish engineers chipping away the last bits of earth before the gunpowder was installed.

For three weeks he had eaten nothing but horsemeat, and very little of that, and good water was more precious than wine. More than a month had pa.s.sed since either he or his soldiers had seen any vegetables, and nights were sometimes made unbearable by the cries of hungry children. Rarely had a major city been so completely isolated as Vienna was now, but rarely had one been besieged by such a formidable force.

'If Sobieski said he was coming by mid-September,' Lubomirski a.s.sured his troops, 'he will be here,' and with this daily encouragement the Poles became one of the mainstays of the city. Accustomed to meager rations, they managed the deprivations better than most, and their unflagging courage heartened the citizens. But major credit was also due the stalwart deportment of Von Starhemberg, who consistently turned down Kara Mustafa's repeated demands for capitulation: 'We will all die here, in defense of a city we love.' And when the Muslims tied messages to the rocks they were catapulting into the city, he did not endeavor to censor them; instead he read them personally to crowds that gathered: 'Mustafa promises that if we surrender, all Christians will be allowed to remain Christian, without let or hindrance.' Whenever he read this promise he paused, then shouted: 'Ask the Greeks what that promise means. Ask the Bulgarians. Ask the Thracians, the Albanians.' Then he would pause dramatically and cry: 'How do the people of Vienna reply to that invitation?' And men planted in the starving crowd would shout 'No!'

But the digging continued and soon the city must explode.

Another general besides Sobieski and Lubomirski was also perplexed by Kara Mustafa's obstinate refusal to take troops away from the walls so that the army facing the coalition might be strengthened, and that was Khan Murad, who had fretted for some months at the sorry misuse to which his gifted Tatars were being put. Hidden in a camp far to the south as if they were pariahs, not used in any of the a.s.saults on the city, and now forbidden to attack Sobieski's exposed flank, the Tatars had justification for deeming themselves insulted by the Turks, but this had often happened in the past and Khan Murad was familiar with such treatment.

Now, however, such insolence had become more than a matter of pride to a valued ally; the misuse of the Tatars threatened the success of the whole enterprise, and Khan Murad was not disposed to see his Tatars defeated in some pitched battle when by clever thrust and parry they could have so harried the enemy that the set battle would never take place.

So Khan Murad left his camp, accompanied by two subordinates, determined to confront Kara Mustafa, but as he rode he saw two things which infuriated him: coming down the slopes, which he could have attacked so easily, was the Polish army, unimpeded except by the difficulty of the terrain; and spread out in the battle camp of the Turks were countless tents of lavish construction and elaborate adornment. He was ashamed of this army of which he was a fighting part.

Turning away from the Poles, who were being allowed such an easy progress to the battle, he focused on the tents of the minor viziers, so luxurious that they seemed more suitable for a parade ground at some provincial capital where gallant hors.e.m.e.n and well-groomed women a.s.sembled than for a battlefield. One tent in particular offended him; austere on the outside, it carried near the flap of the entrance a small green embroidery signifying that it belonged to a man of rank, and since the day was warm the flap was thrown back, and Khan Murad could see inside the three beautiful women garbed in silken robes as if attending a picnic, and the ornate decorations that crowded the interior walls of the tent: Horrible! He must have spent more on that tent than I spend on my whole army.

There were a hundred such tents, each with some refinement that the others lacked: portable bathtubs, mirrors from Bordeaux, huge hampers of figs and dates, boxes of rare clothing for the women who tagged along, and gold and silver ornaments beyond counting. Some tents, like the one with the green emblem, had walls half covered with ceremonial scimitars encrusted in gold and precious stones, and some had marshals' batons heavy with diamonds and rubies, the mark of the Sultan's approval. These tents represented a concentration of wealth such as Khan Murad could scarcely imagine, and he was outraged.

When he was finally allowed to see Kara Mustafa he spoke abruptly, avoiding the usual courtesies, even though he was aware that by doing so he endangered his life: 'Grand Vizier, you place us in jeopardy by keeping your forces divided.'

Fingering the green cord which gave weight to what he was about to say, the vizier nodded: 'It must seem so to you.'

'And you kept us from attacking the Poles as they came across the hills, where we could have destroyed them.'

'You will destroy them when the battle starts.'

'And I remember well when the Sultan himself advised you not to attack Vienna, that it would cause the nations to unite against us. At that time I spoke in his support. You have done a foolish thing, Kara Mustafa, in coming to Vienna. And now you seem determined to lose our battle. I am distressed to partic.i.p.ate in such decisions.'

Only rarely in any tenure did any grand vizier have to listen to such words, and almost always the person who spoke them was beheaded, and Khan Murad must have appreciated the grave danger in which he had placed himself, for when he saw the vizier's face grow red and his hands tremble, he could guess that when the battle ended he faced execution, so he said harshly: 'And do not think to slay me, Kara Mustafa, when the battle is over, for I shall not be here.'

And before the startled grand vizier could respond, the Tatar chieftain was gone from the great tent in which the meeting had occurred, and from the congregation of lesser tents, and from the whole battle area itself. In disgust he rode across empty land to the segregated spot to which his Tatars had been a.s.signed, and he summoned his commanders.

'We ride!' he shouted, and they shouted back 'Against the Poles?' and he cried 'No.'

He led them away from the battlefield, and from the besieged city, and from Austria completely. He led them across Hungary and through the glens of Transylvania and through the Ukraine and across eastern Russia, until they reached once more the steppes of central Asia, where they were absorbed by that endless landscape. Never again would Polish armies be required to fight against or with the Tatars.

At half after three on the morning of 12 September 1683, Jan Sobieski rose, prayed, and placed about his neck the portrait of the Virgin of Czestochowa. In the growing daylight he surveyed the vast battlefield on which his three armies would perform during the next two days, and the magnitude of the Turkish camp might have appalled him had he not been inwardly convinced that his troops could subdue it. The 25,000 tents glowed in the dawn, the 50,000 carts stood like ramparts; the 80,000 Janissaries and spahis in this part of the army looked like ants, and the 60,000 horses moved uneasily as if they knew a battle was about to begin.

'We shall cut them this way and that,' Sobieski told his subordinates, and his heralds announced the start of battle.

In the first hour the Germans under Prince Waldeck performed heroically, for as Sobieski had promised, they were the ones who encountered the main force of the Turkish army, and they did so over terrain that was forbidding: vineyards, each one protected by low stone walls behind which the Turks lay hidden. But Waldeck used his small cannon with good effect, blasting a wall to rubble, then sending in his men with lances and bayonets.

Because the Poles on the right flank had to move much farther than either the Germans or the Austrians, it was the latter under the Duke of Lorraine who next made contact with Kara Mustafa's troops, and they performed excellently, moving with studied force over their flatter terrain: stand-fire-charge, stand-fire-charge, yard by yard they kept moving forward, and Sobieski was so pleased with their rugged determination that he sent a messenger to congratulate them.

And now, on the right, the Poles at last reached the Turkish lines and began a systematic a.s.sault different from either the Germans' or the Austrians'. Once they started moving forward, they kept coming vigorously until something like a stone fence or a barn stopped them. Then they milled about in seeming disarray until they regained forward movement, when they overwhelmed the Turks. Now the three armies were moving forward in unison.

However, Kara Mustafa was not impotent, and whenever he spotted a weakness in the allied line, or a flank exposed, he sent his men dashing to that spot, and with the skill they had acquired in many battles, they knew just how to wreck the allies' plans. By nine in the morning Austrians on the left, Germans in the center and Poles on the right were well bogged down, and a general melee ensued, in which hand-to-hand fighting predominated.

This continued for two hours, and the Duke of Lorraine became so disconcerted by the lack of forward movement that he dispatched a messenger to Sobieski: 'When will you send the hussars forward?' and Sobieski had to reply: 'As of now the terrain will not permit it, but as soon as we break through ...'

To test the terrain, and especially how far the grape fields and the stone fences continued before flat ground became available, he asked for a volunteer cavalry force-not his precious hussars, who must be held in reserve for the critical moments-to penetrate the enemy lines and bring back a scouting report. Count Lubonski cried: 'I shall lead!' and hors.e.m.e.n formed about him. Sobieski, himself fifty-four years old, knew that the count was far too old for such a venture, but he also knew that the leadership of such a man would prove invaluable in a dangerous mission like this, so he brought his right hand up to the edge of his fur shako in a salute of honor: 'G.o.d ride with you!'

At the head of his detachment, Lubonski started his horse at a slow pace, then spurred it to a brisk trot, and when the Turkish lines were close he jabbed his horse with his heels, set his short lance at the ready, and led the charge into the heart of the enemy force. Dodging and twisting both his horse and his own body in the saddle, he succeeded in getting three-fourths of his hors.e.m.e.n into the rear area of the Turkish camp, back among the tents, and there he found the flat ground the remainder of the cavalry would need, so with a wild cry he wheeled about and led his men back through the exact part of the line they had penetrated.

There they went! Their steeds leaped over the low fences and cleared the ditches. They galloped straight for an obstacle, then veered cleverly away, man and horse swaying in the bright sunlight. They swept through the vineyards, knocked down the Janissaries, gained open ground between the combat lines, and galloped back to the Polish headquarters, where old Count Lubonski saluted his king and said: Tour hundred yards, Sire, and we are free.'

It was a fearful four hundred yards. From one in the afternoon till nearly five the three armies moved forward almost inch by inch, for when the Turks realized that their tents were being threatened, their valued homes for the past two years, they stiffened their resistance, and with Kara Mustafa always in the thickest of the battle, for he was exceedingly brave, they confronted the coalition.

It was now apparent to the three generals that they would have to be lucky if they were to traverse the final four hundred yards before nightfall, camp uneasily there, and resume the battle in the morning when the cavalry could be used, but at this critical juncture the lesser cavalry, composed of petty n.o.blemen like Lukasz of Bukowo, began to break through here and there, so that Sobieski, as the day began to die, saw a chance not only to cover the four hundred yards but also to gain a solid footing on the level ground for his night's camp, and he gave the signal for all his Polish troops to make a supreme effort during one last hour, and this they did.

No one, in later a.n.a.lysis, could recall where the break came, but it was probably not along the Polish front at all. Waldeck's Germans, seeing the Polish effort, emulated it, and because Kara Mustafa had rushed troops to stop the Poles, he had to leave the center sector weakened, allowing the Swabians and Thuringians to rip a great hole in his lines. Almost immediately the Austrians did the same, and immediately thereafter the Poles cracked their line, and in one roaring sweep the entire allied line surged forward, traversing the last of the bad terrain.

It was five in the afternoon when this fortunate development crowned the allied effort, and both Lorraine and Waldeck sent messengers to Sobieski congratulating him on having obtained a solid base from which to launch the next day's attack, but when the Polish king saw for himself the wonderfully flat land his troops now occupied, and when he saw disorder among the Turkish troops, who were retreating hastily to their tent area, a flash of vision like a bolt of summer lightning possessed him, and he cried: 'We can finish this battle tonight!' And with a mental vitality equal to his enormous physical size he barked out a dozen orders: 'Hussars to the front! Every man in every unit who has a horse, to the ready! Along the entire line, when my cannon fires, charge and carry to the walls of Vienna if we can!'

The three armies at that moment were about six miles from Vienna, the first five were level land, the last one was the denuded area leading to the glacis and the wall itself, so once an immense cavalry charge got started, it was not unreasonable to believe that it could go a great distance. There would be three thousand winged hussars in the lead, followed by some five thousand superior cavalry, backed up by thirteen thousand fighters on horseback, mostly petty n.o.blemen and farmers with no military training but long experience with horses and self-defense. There had probably never been, in European warfare, a cavalry charge of this magnitude.

It was twenty minutes past five, on a day when the sun would set at half after six, when Jan Sobieski gave the order to charge, and like some boundless autumn wind chasing dried leaves, the twenty thousand hors.e.m.e.n spurred their mounts to a gallop and bore down on the disorganized Turks. For only ten minutes did the outcome of the charge hang in the balance; during that time Kara Mustafa, with the green cord growing tighter about his throat, performed heroically, endeavoring in vain to rally his troops. Some remained faithful to him, many did not, and he realized that all was lost when at the height of the enemy attack he saw his own troops begin to loot the tents of their officers.

'You!' he shouted at some Bulgarian slaves who were ripping apart a tent valued at eight hundred gold pieces, and when his command had no effect, he shrugged his shoulders in a pathetic admission of despair and told his own bodyguard: 'Take what you can,' and a general looting proceeded, not by the Germans or the Poles, but by his own men.

The looting had one tragic outcome which no one could have antic.i.p.ated. Count Lubonski, austere and brave and straight in the saddle at age seventy-three, kept his horse in the van, and with his modified lance, for he no longer had the strength of arm to master a long one, he accomplished much, sending Turkish soldiers scattering. He was ably supported by Lukasz, who rode at his left, and by Brat Piotr and the boy Janko, who kept not far behind with the extra horses.

But as the quartet from Bukowo entered the tent area, where the confusion was greatest, Piotr saw that a young hussar had been slain by a Turkish cannon shot, and his left leg was still in the stirrup, his precious circle of feathers broken in the dust, so on the spur of the moment the friar reined in his horse, leaped down, and tried to tend the fallen hussar. A moment's inspection proved the young Pole was dead, but there was his armored vest, his halo of feathers, so with breathless delight Piotr stripped him, placed the armor about his own chest, adjusted the crown of feathers, discarded his own rather ordinary mount, and leaped upon the dead hussar's beautiful beast.

Feathers waving, long legs kicking, Piotr galloped forward to join the charge, shouting as he came: 'Make way for the hussars!' And with no lance or any other kind of weapon, he started chasing Turks.

It took him only a few moments to catch up with Count Lubonski, and the feathers, the flailing legs, the stretch of friar's garb flowing behind, made such a ridiculous figure, even Lubonski had to laugh. Young Janko, now at the count's side, was captivated by the idea that the man he liked so much had at last attained his life's desire, and, thoughtlessly, he left the count and joined the soi-disant hussar.

Together the two roared through the rear guard of the retreating Turks, dashing in and out among the canopied tents, and accomplishing nothing except the exhilaration of the ride.

The metal-and-leather frame to which the feathers of the winged hussar were attached had been broken when its former owner pitched to the ground, and now as Piotr rode with it about his ears the left half tore partially loose, dropped down, and began to flap about the horse's left eye, so that instead of terrifying enemy horses, as intended, the feathers now annoyed the hussar's horse, who began to run under its own direction, hoping to break free of the pestilential flapping.

Piotr, never a first-cla.s.s horseman, found himself unable to control the runaway horse, so he resorted to the coward's only defense: leaning far forward, he grabbed the horse's neck, and with feet dangling, robe flying behind and the good half of the feathered halo still about his right ear, he roared through the Turkish camp, astonishing both the Poles and the Turks. Janko, endeavoring to keep close, shouted encouragement: 'Hold on, Piotr! You're a hussar now.'

And as the pair galloped, causing as much consternation among their own troops as among the enemy, Piotr caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a special tent, austere on the outside, but with a small green medallion by the flap and a glimpse of richness inside, and although he looked the fool astride that horse, he was not a fool, and with almost superhuman effort he stopped the horse, wheeled it about, and brought it to a halt before the tent, where he hastily dismounted, and when Janko stood beside him, peering inside, their mouths gaped at the wonders which stood revealed.

The tragedy of this affair did not pertain to the adventures of Piotr and Janko, but to the exposed position in which their desertion left Count Lubonski, for now he had only Lukasz to support him, and no spare horses, for they had vanished with the deserters. Even this might have proved acceptable had not Lukasz suddenly noticed something which stunned and delighted him.

Lubonski's charge, always headed for the strongest concentration of enemy forces, had carried them into one of the rear areas where the Turks guarded the animals needed in their stupendous enterprise, and at first Lukasz saw only strings of camels chewing sideways as if there were no battle, and herds of buffalo brought along for their meat, but in an enclosed area he also saw some two hundred of the best Arabian horses, and as a fly-by-night Polish n.o.bleman who had never owned more than five horses, he was mesmerized by the richness of his find, and without making a moral choice, he drifted away from Lubonski and started selecting the two dozen Arabians that he would claim as his booty when this day ended.

Cyprjan Lubonski, now alone and like any courageous warrior in the van of his troops, rode on for some minutes before he realized that no one supported him, and when he did discover his predicament he considered, briefly, wheeling about and seeking help, but he rejected this, for he supposed that others, perhaps even the winged hussars, would soon overtake him, and at a slowed pace he continued to move forward. As he did, he came upon a contingent of special troops who had remained loyal to Kara Mustafa in this moment of disaster, and when they saw the lone Polish horseman, erect and bewildered in his saddle and with only a short lance, they fell upon him with great fury.

One struck him in the throat, bringing blood to his mouth. Another cut at his head, and hot blood blinded his left eye. One spear entered at his right knee and penetrated upward to the hip, but still he maintained control of his horse, trying to escape. The Turks were relentless, and with cries of triumph they moved in close, hacking at him with their scimitars, slashing his arms and legs. Finally, one spahi leveled a great lance at Lubonski's gut, rode forward with speed and pierced him through, knocking him from his horse and breaking his neck bones.

Still the old man did not faint or die. With only the broken shaft of his lance he tried to fend off his attackers, but when he had to lower his bleeding right arm, foot soldiers stabbed him many times. Cyprjan Lubonski died as he would have wished, not in the saddle but almost, and facing till the end the enemies of Christianity.

The tremendous battle should have taken two days, but it ended in one. A French engineer, working for pay with the Turks, saw the general rout and shouted to his European friends: 'This is a real sauve qui peut,' then led the desertion of the foreigners.

The people starving inside Vienna became aware at dusk that the Turkish threat was ended, and they began surging through the city gates, running toward the tethered buffalo, which they began to butcher on the spot.

General Lubomirski, too, left the walled city, seeking King Jan Sobieski, and when they met in the growing darkness, Lubomirski so thin he seemed like a shadow, the two men wept.

Kara Mustafa, resisting the efforts of his loyal troops to drag him safely from the battlefield, cried that he wanted to die here, but they insisted upon surrounding him, and saving his life so that he could later strangle himself with the green cord at some rear headquarters like Sofia or Edirne.

Prince Waldeck sought neither Sobieski nor Lorraine; he was appalled at the cruel fighting his Germans had been required to do that day, and as he sat exhausted in a captured Turkish tent he told his a.s.sistants: 'Never speak to me of where the place of honor is, left flank, right flank. The place of honor is where the enemy hits hardest, and today it was the center.'

The first thing Duke Charles did when it became apparent that the victory would be won this day was to dispatch two messengers to Linz with a rea.s.suring message for the Austrian king: 'Leopold, Sire, it is now safe to return to Vienna.' The duke realized that it was important to have the king on hand, in person, lest the Pole Sobieski garner all the honors, with consequences that might prove embarra.s.sing.

Lukasz spent that night guarding his twenty-four Arabians, and when a group of Polish soldiers pa.s.sed he tried to commandeer some of them to help him protect his booty, but they ignored him. However, when some of the French deserters came by, he accosted them, and glad to find refuge for the night, they stayed with him.

In the tent with the green blazon Brat Piotr and young Janko were bedazzled, for the interior was rich beyond anything they had ever imagined, and the friar a.s.sured the boy: 'Not even the treasury at Czestochowa, where the Virgin keeps her brocaded robes, has anything like this.'

Closing the flap quickly to prevent others from seeing the shimmering wealth, they moved about in the gloom, noting the encrusted daggers richly bejeweled, the carpets woven with gold and silver threads, the open bags of thalers, the sumptuous fabrics. Suddenly there came a terrifying scream from Janko.

Poking into a small room within a room, he had come upon a fallen body from which had gushed an inordinate amount of blood, and when Piotr hurried to his side, he saw the corpse of an exceedingly beautiful young woman, one of the legendary Circa.s.sian slaves so highly prized by the Turks, and he told Janko: 'I think her owner must have killed her himself. To keep her from being molested by the victors. She was probably a Christian, and we must say a prayer for her deliverance.'

Janko could not pray. He was sickened by what he saw, for whoever had killed the beautiful girl had tried to chop off her head, but had failed; it now lay at such a grotesque angle from the torso that Janko turned away from the sight, and while Piotr prayed over the corpse of what had indeed been a Christian slave, Janko stepped outside the tent and vomited.