Meanwhile, Koniecpolski kept the Cossacks in the fight. He'd never let them rest once since he first launched them at the enemy's flanks. They couldn't get around those flanks, of course, because the Swedes were backed up against the lake. But they could keep Gustav Adolf pinned where he was.
The Swedish king was completely on the defensive now. He was outnumbered, unable to maneuver, and had lost all of his advantages. The superb rate of fire of his artillery had vanished. There was no way to reload a cannon quickly in a downpour. The same for reloading a musket. Rifled or smoothbore, it mattered not. The rain equalized everything. The men handling breechloaders in the Swedish army could still maintain a fairly decent rate of fire, but there weren't that many of them. And as for the accuracy of the rifles, what did it matter if you could hit an enemy soldier at three hundred yards? You can't shoot something you can't see. Between the rain and the gunsmoke, this battlefield was almost as obscured as it would have been in a fog.
A gust of wind cleared aside the gunsmoke, allowing Gustav Adolf to see most of the field for the first time in ten minutes.
He felt a little shock of horror. A gap had opened up between the Vastergotlanders and the Green Brigade. It wasn't a huge gap, but hussars wouldn't need much to start rolling up the lines.
Outnumbered as he was, he hadn't kept much of a reserve, and he'd already used up what he had. He'd sent Colonel Hepburn and his men to shore up his right very early in the battle. What he'd had left was just the Orange regiment. Ten minutes ago, he'd sent them to bolster Winkel. They couldn't be called back in time.
Whatever was to be done, it had to be done now. The gap had been created by the Green Brigade, which had bunched itself up from the confusion of the battle and the never-to-be-sufficiently cursed rain. Their ranks needed to be spread out again.
He couldn't spot the brigade's commander. He might have been killed already.
The Swedish king spurred his horse and charged forward. In five minutes, he could salvage the situation.
Anders Jonsson did mutter profanities out loud this time as he raced after Gustav Adolf. No reasons not to, now that the king couldn't possibly hear him. Not with the rain and the gunfire and, most of all, the blood rushing through Gustav Adolf's own ears as happened to idiot berserkers.
The Scots came behind him, mouthing their own profanities. Some of which were no doubt Celtic, which was a bit absurd given that the ancestors of those men had once charged into battle stark naked and painted blue.
Chapter 38
The commander of the Green Brigade was dead, as a matter of fact. So was the officer who would have replaced him in command. Both of them had been too far forward when a hussar charge drove over them.
The colonel in command of the Vastergotlanders had also been killed. But the two officers who were next in command were not even aware of the fact. They were at the very front, holding the first ranks steady.
So, the young captain whom they'd left behind to keep an eye on things-yes, it was foolish to do so, but men do foolish things in the chaos of a battlefield-was the only officer in the regiment who spotted the gap that had opened between them and the Green Brigade.
He, too, was horrified at the sight. Immediately, he commanded the nearest company to follow as he raced to set things right.
Which they did-thereby opening another gap. The captain hadn't intended to move more than one company. But he hadn't told any other to stay in place, either. Seeing the first company move, the captain in command of its neighbor concluded that he had to move also. As his company moved, yet a third-and then a fourth-was pulled in its train. It wasn't until five of the regiment's eight companies had shifted their positions that the two officers in command realized what was happening.
But by then, it was too late. Gustav Adolf was still closing the first gap when two hundred hussars found the second. They poured through in a flood.
The rain that the Swedish king had cursed was all that saved his army, then. Koniecpolski's view of the battlefield was even more obscured than Gustav Adolf's, because the rain was being driven from the west. So he never spotted the sudden disaster that had fallen upon his enemy. He knew nothing about it, in fact, until he got reports after the battle from the hussars who had survived to tell their happy tale.
Three times the Swedish bastard and his armies had brought murder, destruction and rapine into Poland. There wouldn't be a fourth.
A Scotsman's shout alerted Jonsson. Twisting in his saddle, he saw at least two dozen hussars racing toward him.
No, most of them were racing toward the king. Gustav Adolf wore no distinctive insignia. But he was a big man, and an imperious one on a battlefield. Whether or not the oncoming hussars knew his exact identity, they obviously realized he was some sort of top commander.
As children, Polish hussars-in-the-making heard the same advice children everywhere got from their elders. To kill a snake, cut off its head.
A number of them set out to do so.
Gustav Adolf heard Anders' cry of warning. When he saw the hussars coming his way, he swung his horse to face them, sword in his hand. He had two wheel-lock pistols in saddle holsters, but he wouldn't have time to use them.
He'd always turned down the many offers of up-time pistols. Despite their obvious advantages, he simply didn't like the things. They didn't feel right. Childish, perhaps, but there it was. If the king of Sweden, emperor of the USE, high king of etc., etc., insists he don't need no steenkeeng up-time pistol, how are you going to make him take it?
The first hussar's lance came at him. The king swatted it aside and struck the man down as he passed.
A mighty stroke it was, too. Hussars were heavily armored, but Gustav Adolf had fought them before so he knew what to expect. His blade avoided the heavy cuirass altogether and passed just under the helmet's ear flap, with its characteristic heart emblem decoration. The neck is always a vulnerable part of any armor, especially for a man strong enough to drive a sword through whatever mail protection might be there.
The king of Sweden was a very strong man, and he loved swords and knew how to use them. The hussar's head stayed with the body, but the man was dead before he fell out of the saddle. His neck had been cut halfway through.
A second hussar was there. Frantically, Gustav Adolf swung back his sword.
The lances used by Polish hussars had a distinctive design. They were partially hollow, being made of two pieces of fir glued together. That made them quite light, despite their great length-not more than seven pounds-and easy to handle in battle.
It also made them brittle, of course. Gustav Adolf's sword broke the lance in half.
But Polish hussars expected that their lances would splinter. The weapons had round wooden hand-guards and the Swedish king's stroke had severed the lance just above the heavy ball. The hussar shifted his grip in order to turn the lance-butt into an impromptu mace and slammed the ball into the king's head.
Hard. The Pole was as big as Gustav Adolf and possibly even stronger. The Swede's head reeled back from the blow, his helmet coming loose.
Seeing his chance, the hussar swung the lance butt again. The helmet came off altogether. The hammering stroke came a third time, and this blow caught the side of the king's head unprotected.
Gustav Adolf was still in the saddle-barely-but he was now completely senseless. The Pole finally dropped the lance butt and drew his saber to finish him off.
But Anders Jonsson had arrived by then and he had no reservations at all about up-time pistols. Years ago, the Americans had given him one of the most expensive guns in their possession, an HK.40-caliber USP automatic. The king's bodyguard had never spent a waking moment without it since. He'd even had his armor modified so he could wear his shoulder holster into battle.