Count Piper thought as he had never thought before on the eve of any of the many battles at which he had been present, of the men sleeping now for the last time, of the distant homes they would never see again, of the Swedish blood that would water this arid soil to-morrow, and the Swedish bones that would crumble into the dust of this lost country.
Already the camp was full of movement; the beautiful horses of the Kalmucks and Cossacks could be seen moving among the tents, and here and there the moonlight fell on the steel of cuirass or the bosses of leather trappings, as the Swedish officers rode from one point to another fulfilling General Rehnsköld’s orders.
Count Piper was preparing to go to his own tent for an hour’s rest, if indeed his body could repose when his heart was so heavy, but a sudden exclamation from the King startled him into turning.
Karl was sitting up, his right hand flung out and grasping his sword.
His face showed ghastly in the mingled lamp and moonlight, his wet hair looked dark on his forehead, and his eyes were staring and congested from fever.
“I thought I was being broken on the wheel,” he muttered in a low tone.
He tried to move, and the pulsing anguish the effort brought him made him remember his crushed limb.
“Faugh!” he exclaimed, in a tone of angry disgust. The sword dropped from his hand on to the earthen floor; he started, then peered at the silent figure by the door.
“Is that the dawn, Piper?” he asked, in a quiet, natural voice.
“Send one to bid Neumann come and dress my wound. I would sooner be abroad than abed to-night.”
“There will be time enough to rest when we are in Poltava,” replied the King; there was a note of wildness in his voice foreign to his character; he seemed aware of this himself for he added fiercely: “Curse this fever--I have Peter’s devils on me to-night. Fetch Neumann.”
Thus, without a word or handshake parted King and minister on the eve of the Poltava fight.
For the second time the horses drawing the King’s litter were killed--only three were left of the four-and-twenty guards who accompanied him. Other soldiers hurried up, and began fastening fresh horses to the litter.
“Make haste,” commanded Karl, “make haste.” It was the thick of the battle; the beginning of the second attack which had begun at nine in the morning.