Morris brought his head back, still scowling. "All right. It'll be up to you and Jan, then. Wallenstein didn't leave more than a thousand soldiers here. Good thing he didn't take your Brethren volunteers with him, too."
Red smiled lopsidedly. "Pappenheim still doesn't trust us. Not our loyalty, just how much use we'd be in a battle. He's more set in his ways than Wallenstein, you know-and with Wallenstein in the shape he's in, Pappenheim will have to do the actual commanding on the battlefield."
Morris' smile was even more lopsided than Red's. "I never thought I'd say this, but I really wish-really wish-Wallenstein had stayed behind. What a world! To think I'd ever find Wallenstein's presence a comfort." He shook his head. "But… there it is. I surely would."
He glanced up at the Hradcany. "What about the soldiers he did leave behind?"
"Oh, I think we can count on them, well enough," Billek assured him. "Pappenheim left one of his proteges in charge-young Kastner, I do not think you know him. His unit is one of the best, actually. Wallenstein and Pappenheim want something to return to, assuming they win their battle. There are still plenty of Habsburg loyalists in the population, especially among the Catholics."
"Why'd they take almost everybody with them, then?"
"Morris, be realistic," said Sybolt. "If you were Wallenstein, you'd do the same thing. If he loses this upcoming battle against the Austrians, he's finished. He's burned all his bridges behind him, now. It's not as if he figured on Holk running wild, after all-and even if he did consider the possibility, so what? If Wallenstein whips the Austrians and comes back to a wrecked and plundered Prague, he's still the king of Bohemia. Cities can be rebuilt, too, you know. Look at Magdeburg."
Morris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "True. Tough on the people living in the city, though."
"Yup. Unless they protect themselves. Speaking of which, what are your orders?"
"My orders?" Morris stared at him. "I'm not in charge here."
Red chuckled. "Morris, sometimes you're a real babe in the woods. What does 'in charge' have to do with anything? Nobody put Holk 'in charge' either-but he's still on his way."
Sybolt stepped up to the window and studied the Hradcany for a moment. "Kastner's just a youngster, Morris. He hasn't got the confidence to take charge of the whole city. What he'll do is fort up in the castle and the key buildings in the Mala Strana below the hill-including Wallenstein's palace, of course-and just be satisfied with fending Holk off."
"He is right," said Billek. "And Holk will make no real effort to take the Hradcany. He and his men are looking for loot, not a protracted siege." He came forward and joined Sybolt at the window, examining the city. "From the direction they are coming, they will strike Prague on the west bank of the Vltava first. Then, they will recoil from Kastner's men in the Hradcany and the Mala Strana and head for Stone Bridge. Most of Prague is on this side of the river. Not the richest part, to be sure, but Holk and his men are not fussy looters. And this is the soft part of the city."
Billek glanced at the two rabbis standing not far away. The faces of both Spira and Gans were calm enough, but tight with worry. "Especially the Josefov. Jews are not armed and everyone knows it. They will begin their plunder and ravages in Old Town and move north to the ghetto."
Morris was no military man, but, as he studied the layout of the city, he decided that Red and Jan were right. Given the nature of Holk and his army, that was exactly what they'd do.
"We should try to trap them on the Stone Bridge," he said abruptly. "Never let them get across at all."
Then a bit startled by the sureness with which he'd spoken, Morris added: "I think."
"Well, so do I," said Red. "So does Jan-we talked about it on our way over here. Good thing we've got a smart boss."
"Who made me the 'boss'?" Morris demanded. "I still don't understand-"
Billek interrupted him. That was unusual, for the normally reserved and polite leader of the Brethren. "Do not be stupid, Morris," he said forcefully. "Don Morris, rather."
Billek nodded toward the two rabbis. "The only way this plan will work is if the Jews hold the eastern side of the bridge and keep Holk pinned on it. While we Brethren and Red's CoC volunteers hammer them from fortified positions in the Mala Strana. We have most of the guns and will do most of the killing. But the eastern end of the bridge must be held-and firmly."
Spira and Gans looked startled. Billek shook his head. "As Red says, we must be realistic here. Who else except the Jews will hold the eastern end of the bridge from Holk-hold it at all, much less firmly? Except for the Brethren, the Christian population on the east side of the river is still confused and uncertain. They won't fight-not most of them-not against such as Holk. They will simply flee the city."
Morris felt his jaws tighten. "Whereas the Jews don't have any place to run to. If they try to leave the city, in this chaos, they'd likely be plundered by"-he almost said the stinking goyishe villagers on the way, but didn't-"you know, everybody. Just about."
Billek said nothing. After a moment, to Morris' surprise, Red grinned cheerfully.
"Hey, Morris, look at it this way-it happened once before, didn't it? Well, in a manner of speaking."
Morris couldn't help but smile himself. Talk about a topsy-turvy world! In the universe they'd come from, in the year 1648, a Swedish army had marched into Prague and taken the Hradcany and the Mala Strana on the west bank of the river. Convinced that they'd do better even under the heavy hand of the Habsburgs than at the hands of a conquering Swedish army-by the end of the Thirty Years War, Swedish armies were no more disciplined than anybody's-the Jews of Prague's ghetto had joined with Catholic students and burghers to fight off the Swedes when they tried to cross the Stone Bridge and pillage the eastern half of the city. It had been the last major battle of the Thirty Years War, in fact. It didn't end until nine days after the Peace of Westphalia was signed-and the Swedes never did make it across the bridge.
Less than a hundred years later, under Empress Maria Theresa, the Habsburgs repaid the loyalty of Prague's Jewry by expelling them from the city.
"Right," Morris growled, his smile fading. "Let's do it again-and we'll hope, this time, it turns out better in the long run."
He turned away from the window and faced the two rabbis. "Will you agree?"
Spira and Gans looked at each other. Spira nodded. Gans shrugged. "Do we have a choice? Not that I can see. And I am sure all the other rabbis will agree."
"You will be in command, yes, Don Morris?" asked Spira. He gave Billek and Red a somewhat apologetic glance. "Our people will follow you. Not… others."
"See?" Red demanded, smiling wider than ever. "Like I said, you're the boss."
"Make sure you are on a horse," Billek added. "Biggest horse you can find. And wear something suitable."
2
Morris had been prepared for a brawl with Dunash. He was sure the young militant would try to insist that he and his men should remain with the other Jews on the east bank, rather than fighting with the Brethren as they were supposed to do.
But, to his surprise, Red Sybolt scuttled the problem before it could even emerge.
"We may as well keep me and Dunash and the katyusha on this side anyway, Morris. Those rockets are about as accurate as spitting in the wind. If we fire them at the bridge from the Mala Strana, we're as likely to kill our own people over here as Holk's people on the bridge."