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AD 1547
The
bridge at Drakenburg was really in three parts.
A low arch spanned the old channel and the section across the island was
nothing more than a raised causeway about a man’s height above the land.
The third section was a high, almost semicircular arch across the
mainstream. Its medieval engineers
obviously considered accommodating the masts of the riverboats of more
importance than the welfare of weary horses dragging laden wagons up its deep
slope. This would slow
Calenberg’s troops down, creating a bottleneck where the Vilsen men hoped to
catch them.
Erich
and Christian appreciated the cleverness of Mansfeld’s strategy but did not
relish crouching in the scratchy marsh grass under the causeway.
The ground underfoot was very damp, and anyone foolish enough to kneel or
sit was soon soaked to the skin. Nor
did anyone dare lay his weapon or powder horn in the wet.
“I
hope we don’t have to wait too long,” whispered Christian.
“I
doubt we will,” replied Erich.
“My leg is starting to cramp.”
Very
soon they heard the pounding of horses’ hoofs.
“They come," whispered someone near the end of the bridge and then all
was silence, every man alert and seeing to his priming. Within minutes the horses were treading directly over their
heads, followed by the troop of men marching at the double.
Erich and Christian glanced at each other.
Soon, their eyes said. Suddenly
they were all startled by the boom of the big gun as it raked the enemy’s rear
guard. Then the second roar and they were up and aiming their
muskets at the men on the causeway. After
the first shot the men in front stepped back to reload and the second line shot.
The men on the bridge milled about in confusion, not quite sure where
their opponents were coming from. While
the musketeers reloaded, the pikemen and halberdiers clambered up on the bridge,
the one to impale the horses, the other to behead their riders if possible.
The screams of horses and men filled the air. Some actually jumped or were pushed into the river, where the
weight of their armor soon dragged them down to a watery grave.
Christian
soon become impatient with the slow musket.
He wanted to try out his pistols. He
had both of them, fully primed and loaded, since his brother did not trust them.
Besides, Christian longed to be in the midst of the fray.
He climbed up on the causeway. He
ducked a swinging battleaxe, an old-fashioned but deadly weapon if a strong arm
wielded it. With great satisfaction
he shot its owner in the neck. The
man fell at his feet. He kept
shooting and reloading until the pistols became very hot, but in the wild
exhilaration of killing the hated enemy he disregarded the warning.
Suddenly a nearby horse with its rider tumbled over the side of the
causeway. At first he paid it no
mind, until he heard a bone-chilling scream.
He glanced over the side to see that the horse had pinned Erich down and
its rider, apparently unhurt but still disentangling himself from the stirrups
was on the verge of running his brother through with his sword.
Christian
jumped down and shot the man with his first pistol, then took careful aim before
the thrashing hoofs could do more damage. He shot the horse, but at the same time the overheated gun
blew up in his hand sending burning shards of metal up along his face to his
eye. At first he felt no pain, just
so stunned he could see nothing at all. All
he could think of was that he must find the strength to pull his brother out
from under the crushing weight of that horse.
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