Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Juvenile fiction
"Dicon," he cried, "this is in all sooth a battle; and where the battle
rages, there will the great victor of Blenheim be. We have not chanced
upon this route in vain. Men warned us of the perils of seeking passage
through a country which has become the theatre of war; but fortune’s
star has befriended us thus far, and now, if I mistake me not, we stand
within sight of the greatest warrior of the age. For greatly shall I be
astonished if the Duke of Marlborough himself be not conducting the
evolutions of yonder squadrons."
The brilliant dark eyes of the young man lighted with a great glow of
excitement and admiration. He shaded them with his hand, and intently
followed the evolutions of the moving masses in the plain stretched
before his eyes. He was looking upon the village of Tavières and the
mound of Ottomond, and the waters of the Mehaign rolled below at his
feet. The right wing of the French army rested here, as he quickly saw;
but for the moment the main activity lay over in the distance beyond
Ramillies and Offuz, in the direction of Anderkirk. Yet as the
traveller stood intently gazing, he saw a movement in the line of the
allied army on this nearer side, and he exclaimed aloud in his
excitement,—
"See, Dicon, see! That attack yonder is but a feint. The key of the
position lies here beneath us at Tavières, with its Tomb of Ottomond.
See yonder those regiments of marching soldiers creeping round beneath
the shelter of that rising ground! They will fling themselves upon the
enemy’s right, whilst the French general is diverting his available
forces to protect his left. Villeroi, my friend, you did not well to
dispose your forces in concave lines. You lose time in passing from
place to place; and with such a general as our English Duke pitted
against you, you cannot afford to lose any point in the game. Ha! See
that? The Dutch and English soldiers are charging down upon Tavières!
Watch how they come on—a great resistless tide of well-drilled veterans.
See how they sweep all before them! See how the French fly forth! Ha,
Villeroi, what think you now? Yes, you see your error; fain would you
hurry back your reserves from left to right. But the time has gone by.
They are miles away, and here are the Allies carrying all before them!
Hurrah for old England! hurrah for the great Duke! Dicon, have you
stomach for the fight? Do you remember Barcelona and Mountjuich? If we
were men enough to help there, why not here too?"
The fellow thus addressed grinned from ear to ear, and looked to the
pistols in his holsters and the sabre slung at his side. It would not
have been easy to define by a glance the nationality of this pair, who
evidently stood to each other in the relation of master and man. Their
faces were tanned by sun and wind, their dress, which was somewhat
travel-stained and worse for wear, had plainly been purchased as need
suggested—a piece here, and a piece there, and not all in the same land.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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