What had happened near that small village with no strategic importance was occurring everywhere the French were stationed, mainly around Hanover and Brunswick, though most of the time the skirmishes involved only a few men.
The insecurity in the region kept both civilians and soldiers in a constant state of alert. An attack could come from anywhere and at any time.
Ignoring the suffering inflicted by his men, the Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg intensified his attacks. The Duke of Richelieu, having been forced to divide his army to achieve the objective assigned to him—namely the conquest of Hanover—found himself weakened in many places.
The month of September passed in a blur, each day resembling the last for his exhausted troops, whose morale was melting away like snow in the sun. This period was marked by intense movements between the towns of Germany, from Bremen to Halberstadt, a small town fifty kilometers southeast of Brunswick.
However, to Adam's great despair, the troops led by Richelieu that he followed never approached Hameln during this time.
On September 15, the marshal-duke's army, numbering forty thousand men, set off for Rethem, a small town south of Hanover. However, he took care to leave a small force in Halberstadt to quickly intervene in case of enemy action in the region during his absence. Their progress, slowed by accidents, the number of soldiers, carts, and artillery pieces, as well as by the rains, was difficult and exhausting. They made only a brief stop for the night and set out again at the first light of dawn. That day was as wet and depressing as the previous one.
The brave soldiers of Louis XV could have been mistaken for beggars when they arrived in Zelle (Celle).
Due to severe unrest in the south, around Brunswick, the old duke was forced to put his army on the move again, this time for three days. They reached the seemingly peaceful and uneventful village of Wolfenbüttel on September 19.
Showers followed one after another at such a pace that the comforting rays of the sun were visible only for a few minutes each day. The men found it increasingly difficult to hide their fatigue and weariness.
More often than not, they took out their frustrations on the local civilians, who naturally supported the Hanoverians and the Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg. These acts of violence, which he only half-heartedly condemned since these people were not his own, resulted in many casualties. Sometimes, it ended in bloodshed.
All of this dragged the reputation of the French army, commanded but barely controlled by the duke who increasingly earned his nickname of "Marauder," into the mud.
Adam, although not proud of it, had participated in these acts out of desperation, but he had never resorted to violence beyond what was necessary. His friends hadn't either. They may have stolen food from the locals, but he was certainly not a ruthless killer or a rapist like some of his comrades in the Picardie regiment.
The troops stayed for two days in Wolfenbüttel, which was much appreciated, though insufficient to regain their strength. There, the duke received some good news, the first in a long time: the King of Denmark had accepted and ratified the Convention of Kloster Zeven. This news made him breathe a deep sigh of relief, as it slightly freed up his movements against an enemy that remained as troublesome as ever.
They also began to implement the articles of the convention, particularly those concerning the Hanoverian and Hessian troops trapped in Stade with the Duke of Cumberland, who had not yet been able to return to Great Britain to face the wrath of his people.
They then marched south, only to turn back north, heading towards Bremen. They covered nearly one hundred and forty kilometers, mostly under the rain, trudging through mud, in just four days! All the energy they had painfully regained in Wolfenbüttel was thus spent.
As time went on, the men increasingly believed that this region would never be pacified.
Unfortunately, it was only to learn that they would have to turn around and march even faster!
"What do you mean, we're moving out again?!" shouted Jean, red with fury, at an anspessade who had done nothing to provoke him. "We just got here! At least let us rest, for Christ's sake!"
"Calm down, Jean! There's no use shouting like that!" sharply reprimanded Jules, the voice of reason in the group of friends.
"Jules is right! Everyone's staring at you," added Adam, though inwardly, he was seething just like his friend.
"Fichtre, I don't care! There's no way I'm going! I'm not moving! I need to sleep, stay dry, wash up, and, corbleu, have a proper hot meal!"
It was the first time Adam had seen Jean lose his temper like this. Although strange from the perspective of someone from the 21st century, the curses he had uttered seemed quite natural to him.
The anspessade, who was only assisting his corporal in relaying the duke's orders, had gone pale seeing this giant, towering over him by more than a head, getting angry and yelling at him as if he were responsible for the change.
Taking advantage of Jean stepping aside, accompanied by Jules to make sure he didn't do anything foolish, Adam asked the anspessade, a man who must have been in his thirties with dark circles under his eyes, the reason behind this new move.
"I only overheard a snippet of conversation between two officers. Apparently, the enemy, led by the Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg himself, has taken possession of Halberstadt. They supposedly have at least eleven thousand men with them. The duke wants to outmaneuver and capture them."
Eleven thousand, Adam understood from listening to the epic tales of veterans of the War of Austrian Succession, was a fairly modest number compared to the greatest battles of the time, but that a single man could gather such a force under these circumstances was apparently quite remarkable.
The duke must be afraid they'll cause damage while he's not there, Adam thought, trying to put himself in the commander's shoes. I wouldn't want to be in his place.
"I also heard they might have more than that. The enemy general could count on the garrison from the fortress of Magdeburg and three thousand Prussians who are supposedly only two lieues away from Halberstadt."
Two lieues? How far is that in kilometers? From the sound of it, it must be very close. (Note: about 8 or 9 kilometers.)
"Well, regardless of their reinforcements," the anspessade continued with unwavering faith in the duke, "they won't stand a chance against the forces of His Grace, the Duke of Richelieu, even if several battalions have left our army to pacify the region."
Upon hearing that, the man left, as he had to deliver the bad news to the rest of the company.
Looking around, Adam could truly grasp the pitiful state of the army. Every soldier had drawn features, disheveled hair, grimy uniforms that were turning more and more mouse gray, hollow cheeks, and their backs were bent under the weight of despair.
"What do you think?" asked Charles, as tired as all those poor souls.
"What do I think?" Adam replied weakly. "Nothing at all. All we have to do is follow orders, right?"
I'm stuck here, in this era, far from my family and friends for so long now. As a soldier, I just have to move when they tell me to move, sleep when they tell me to sleep, and kill… If I'm lucky, I'll still be alive when this damn contract is over. As soon as I'm free, I'll head to Hameln and get out of here. In the meantime, I just have to survive!
Charles looked at his friend before giving a faint smile.
"Yes, that's all we have to do. Come on, let's go see if Jean has calmed down."
Jean had distanced himself from the troop to curse in peace. It was better than destroying everything with his large fists. Apparently, this time alone had allowed him to release some of the tension that had built up recently. Although he showed it little, Jean had accumulated a lot of negative feelings since the start of this campaign.
They had been promised, at the time of signing the contract, wealth and glory. They were poor and had empty stomachs. They had been promised to see the world, and they were wading through mud, enduring downpour after downpour. They had been promised wild adventures, but all they did was march around like headless chickens in this country they had grown to hate.
His disappointment was immense.
"I want to go home," he sighed, looking sadly at his old friends.
"Hang in there, Jean," Jules said gently, placing a warm hand on the broad shoulder that was level with his face. "It'll be okay. The contract will be over before you know it. Look, we're already in October!"
Yes, we're already in October… Time flies so fast…
***
As the anspessade had told the small group of friends, the Duke of Richelieu's army soon turned around to reach the small town of Halberstadt as quickly as possible. Thanks to a considerable effort, they arrived there in just two days! To do so, they had to march at night, which was very unusual for the time. This showed just how seriously the officers were taking the situation.
It was almost a relief to see that the enemy had fled like a frightened puppy upon hearing the news of their arrival. Although the opposing duke's army was estimated to be eleven thousand strong or more, in reality, it only numbered seven thousand men. Given the difference in strength, retreat was the wisest decision.
For the Duke of Richelieu, however, this was not entirely a good thing, as it meant that this man still posed a threat.
The officer entered a magnificent mansion in Halberstadt, just a stone's throw from the cathedral, and isolated himself in a spacious room with tall windows. The sky was particularly overcast, making it barely bright enough to see clearly even though it was still very early in the afternoon.
The decor was tasteful and well-maintained, although some of the furniture seemed outdated. The woodwork was exquisite, and the gilding had clearly been done with great care.
One could get a sense of the history contained within these walls by observing the numerous paintings hanging here and there, some depicting men and women in refined or battle attire, and others showing landscapes worthy of a fairy tale.
Richelieu crossed the room in silence, his steps echoing on the polished parquet floor. He pulled out a heavy, gold-trimmed chair and sat behind a large desk, where documents requiring his attention had been carefully arranged in advance, along with some blank sheets of paper, ink, and a quill.
It's already October. It feels like just yesterday that I took command of this army. My God, I'm exhausted.
He ran a slender hand over his face, marked by the years, resting his now sensitive eyes in total and comforting darkness. A slight beard had begun to grow on his chin. Like his men, he had made some sacrifices to arrive here on time. Unfortunately, it hadn't been enough.
That slippery eel has escaped me again...
The oppressive silence in the vast room was only disturbed by the loud ticking of a tall clock, whose pendulum sounded deafening. The marshal could barely hear himself breathe, or his heart beating beneath his silk garments.
When he placed his wrinkled hand on the cold, solid desk, his gaze, blurred from lack of sleep, wandered and settled on a large window overlooking a charming little square where some of his men were going about their business.
Winter is approaching… I need to find a safe place to wait until spring. But the Court…
On his desk lay a letter he had already read three times. The message was clear enough: he was to establish his headquarters in this town, Halberstadt, since he had failed to take Magdeburg as the Court had suggested the previous month.
The Duke of Richelieu certainly would have done so if he had the means, but with such a cunning enemy as the Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg at his back, he would not have been at ease. Besides, he knew Magdeburg was a strong fortress. Besieging it would inevitably take time. He wholeheartedly agreed with the Court—this fortress would be an immense asset in this exhausting campaign, both for its strategic position and for all the supplies and equipment stored there. However, the second part of the letter angered him somewhat.
Establish my headquarters here, in Halberstadt? Didn't they understand what I wrote in my previous letter? This place cannot be defended and is too small for my army. We're already cramped, and tomorrow or the day after, the troops commanded by Monsieur de Contades will arrive! My men are so exhausted, and I'm surrounded by enemies. I really don't know where I should spend the winter...
The duke once again took up his quill and wrote a clear and precise response to explain the situation in this town.
No sooner had he set down his quill than there was a knock at his door.
KNOCK KNOCK
"Forgive me, my lord. A letter has just arrived from His Highness the Prince of Soubise."
What does that child want now?
"Oh? Thank you. You may go."
I have a hunch about what he's written, but let's see... It's a bit dated. Hmm, complaints, complaints, more complaints. Does Pompadour's lapdog know how to do anything other than complain? Ah, and he's asking for reinforcements! The nerve! Isn't his army, combined with the Emperor's, large enough? Doesn't he know that I, too, have my own objectives and enemies? He's already made this request to the Court—asking me again is pointless!
The old duke frowned and set the letter back down on his desk.
Because he has Pompadour's support, he has the support of His Majesty. Surely the Court will grant his request, and it will be me who has to provide the men he demands. I only hope they have the sense not to take my best soldiers! That mediocre man has no talent! What a waste!