Armand Cabasson - Wolf Hunt

Teyhern believed he was protecting himself. He had planned to leave Vienna and to take up his opulent way of life in Berlin. Unfortunately for him Knerkes had also decided to flee. He thought he would settle in Westphalia or Bavaria. People would assume he had been killed at Wagram.

Knerkes could have left immediately but he had wanted to return home for a last time. He was keen to retrieve some personal belongings as well as the money he had amassed in preparation for his final departure. He had not dared take his gold with him before the battle. Had his horse been killed or wounded, Knerkes would have had to abandon it with its saddlebags full of coins. By the same token, had he been captured, his horse and his fortune would have been seized. A new life would not be possible without money. But these were not the only factors bringing him back here. A young man, bound and gagged in the shed, awaited his attentions. Knerkes had managed to lure him to his house and overcome him just before the battle had started, interrupting him. Now that he was a widower he could use his own home for his crimes. The young man would be very weak by now: he would not be able to put up any resistance ...

Knerkes stopped in front of his house. He felt excitement take hold of him; his face was filmed in sweat. He dismounted, hastily tied his horse to a stake and hurried over to the shed. He opened it and found himself face to face with an adult. Knerkes drew back, bewildered, as Relmyer advanced on him. Relmyer experienced a moment of total triumph. It was much more than just the feeling of confronting the criminal in order to arrest him. He was stepping out of the shadow of the shed, but he felt as though he were coming out of the cellar of the ruined farm. The prisoner, whom he had freed two hours earlier, had fled, but Relmyer imagined that there was still a young boy there and that it was Franz. His dream was coming true. In his confused state, he felt fifteen again. But he had changed into an adult skilled in combat, into an élite soldier who was easily going to floor their kidnapper. At that moment Relmyer relived his past but this time in the winning role.

Knerkes backed towards his horse. He withdrew one of his horse pistols but Relmyer was too quick for him. The point of his sabre plunged into Knerkes’ wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. Relmyer’s attack had been executed to perfection. Knerkes pressed his wound with his good hand to stop the blood flowing. Margont and Lefine suddenly appeared. Margont came through one of the windows of the house while Lefine came from one of the neighbouring woods. They were quite far away. Fearing that if Knerkes noticed anything amiss he would guess that he had been set a trap, Margont, Lefine and Relmyer had hidden themselves at some distance from each other. They had formed a wide circle to ensure that they caught Knerkes in their net. They approached slowly, fearing that haste would frighten Knerkes into some desperate act. The two Frenchmen walked determinedly, pointing their pistols. Relmyer asked Knerkes: ‘What was the point of the mutilated smiles?’

Knerkes did not reply, seeing that his silence would unsettle his opponent.

‘Why, why, why?’ persisted Relmyer.

Knerkes had understood that he would not win a fight with Relmyer, so instinctively he attacked his weak point — his mind.

‘You can’t kill me,’ he announced, his voice brimming with confidence. ‘It’s you who are my prisoner, my little Lukas.’

Relmyer had the impression that something gave way inside him. He found himself in the same situation as before; the past was consuming the present! In spite of his age, of his lieutenant of hussars uniform and his fearsome sabre, Relmyer felt frail and defenceless, just like a weakened boy.

He stared at the drops of blood dripping between Knerkes’ fingers. He reminded himself that he knew more than fifty different attacks that could floor the man in a flash. But Knerkes wore the same masterful expression now as when he'd threatened Franz and him with his weapon.

‘You haven’t changed,’ added Knerkes. ‘Nothing has changed.’

At that, with the stupefying audacity of one who has nothing to lose, he turned his back on Relmyer and untied and mounted his horse. Relmyer was paralysed into inaction. Margont began to run. ‘He’s escaping!’ yelled Lefine.

Just as Knerkes galloped off, Lefine fired, but he missed. The detonation jerked Relmyer out of his torpor. All three of them made for their horses, hidden at some distance to prevent Knerkes’ horse from smelling their presence and starting to whinny. Neither Margont nor Lefine reproached Relmyer. He was in more disarray than ever. But with each step, he took hold of himself. The duellist in him, and the hussar, exhorted him to counterattack. He was the first into the saddle.

Knerkes had gained a head start. His silhouette moved speedily across the plains. He was heading west towards the Danube. He wanted to lead his pursuers into the marshy labyrinth of the river. Relmyer overtook Margont and Lefine. His horse, in harmony with its master, understood that Relmyer wanted above all to catch the fugitive and so it galloped with unusual zeal. Soon the long blue ribbon of the Danube appeared, hidden from time to time by the abundant woods.

Knerkes reached the first trees. Relmyer sheathed his sabre and took hold of one of his horse pistols. Although he was at full gallop, he aimed precisely at Knerkes’ horse. The shot hit the mare’s rump - it was an excellent shot, worthy of the hussar’s reputation. Knerkes forced his animal forward, but now it was having difficulty trotting, its hind legs sagging. Knerkes took hold of his second horse pistol but the wound weakened his hand and he almost dropped it. He transferred it to his left hand. Relmyer fired with his other weapon and wounded Knerkes’ horse again. This time the mare was immobilised. Knerkes just had time to dismount before it collapsed. He began to run through the trees and thickets. His plan had failed; he would not now be able to lose his opponents. He might be able to hide and pick them off one by one, but what were his chances of success? He could think of only one solution. Relmyer stopped his horse and continued his pursuit on foot through the woods, so as not to offer too easy a target. He moved forward cautiously, sabre in hand, scrutinising every possible hiding place. The dense vegetation enveloped him in an oppressive

green veil. The route was easy to follow: he could see drops of blood on the grass. Margont joined him, armed with a pistol and a sword. When the two men next saw Knerkes, he was wading into the Danube. The water was already up to his chest and the current was strong, swelled by the thawing snow. Margont aimed at him. ‘Drop your pistol!’ he commanded.

Knerkes raised his left hand and ostentatiously let his weapon drop; it sank like a stone. He did not need it any more. He smiled and continued to advance into the river. The current began to carry him off

‘He’s getting away from us!’ cried Relmyer. ‘Fire!’

Margont could not bring himself to do it.

‘He’s unarmed, it would be murder,’ he replied. ‘Let’s follow him along the riverbank.’

‘If he knows how to swim, he’ll find his feet on one of the little islands and we’ll lose him for ever! Fire! I don’t care if it’s the correct procedure, fire!’

Margont was still threatening Knerkes, who was getting further and further away. Relmyer flung himself on Margont’s weapon and took it from him. Margont wanted to take it back, but Relmyer stabbed him with his sabre, exactly as he had wounded Knerkes. Margont stared with disbelief at his bloody, painful wrist.

‘Don’t force me to kill you,’ warned Relmyer. ‘It would pain me immensely, but I would do it.’