The Venetian Company

Pavia III -- Konrad's Knoll, 25 February 1525

Konrad’s Knoll

   

     After the first charge of the French heavy horse, I looked around to see what was left of our line, and the situation wasn’t good.  To our right the Catalans had disappeared altogether.  They had either been pushed back, or broken, or withdrawn several hundred paces.  There was no time to look for them.

     Even as I looked around, some of the enemy knights were returning, passing through our lines.  Though most of these horsemen simply wanted to get past us, I told two pikemen to turn around and face our rear.  They understood at once.

     “Keep the horsemen off us,” I directed.

    To our left, somehow the Spanish line had drifted away, moving 300 feet to the south.  I could still hear the indistinct orders of the officers of the tercio, but had no idea what they were shouting.

     This meant we were 16 men standing in the middle of a field with fog up to our waists, enemies on both sides of us, with one fool holding a small red flag with the lion of St. Mark on it.

      “Theos mou,” My God…  “We need to get out of here, and fast,” I muttered to myself.  You didn’t have to be Julius Caesar to divine it.

      I cast around for other units or please God, some high ground.  It seemed that to our northwest was a small hill with roughly 30 footsoldiers on it.  There was some banner flying there, a black horse rampant on a yellow field.   Something nagged at my mind. 

     Then it came to me: it was the flag of the German city of Stuttgart.  Konrad’s fellows were there or perhaps even the man himself.  The troops seemed to be facing the woods the knights had issued from.  They had to be soldiers on the imperial side.  I looked at the arquebus we had brought down the knight with.  It lay on the ground now, only partially visible through the fog.  I didn’t remember how to reload the contraption and anyway it was doubtful I could hit something twice with the infernal thing.  I made a mental note, however, to work on my skills with these weapons in the future – if I had a future.  I fished around in the fog and raised my dirty sword:  “We’re heading for that hill.  Let’s get going!  Stay together, and let’s move quickly – “ 

      After ten minutes and having crossed swords with only one withdrawing horseman, no injuries sustained or given, I climbed the hill, crying out “Soldaten!  Soldaten!”  Soldiers – this was all I could think of to say.  I held up my open left hand:  we’re on your side.

      A swordsman loomed before me and he was about a head taller than me.  Raising his visor, I saw it was indeed my old acquaintance, our instructor on the efficacy of shortswording.

       He pummeled me on the shoulder.  “Julie!  Der Greischenlander freund.  You arrival is perfect.  But I see only 15 men.  Where is the rest of your unit?“