Well, That Sucks!

 The Vulgarian sappers continue to dig forwards. If there's one activity that Mittelheimers can be relied upon to do well, it is swanning around in mud, making crude jokes about their tools. The intent, clearly, is that the second parallel will be pushed closer to the town's defences. One consequence, however, is that the sapper companies are now quite isolated (Below).

Baron Friederich von Zwöllenglantz, the town's governor, decides to exploit this situation and orders a trench raid! Only two companies of troops are ready for this operation: one of musketeers, and one of grenadiers.

The governor splits his force into two, and orders them to assault a pair of the enemy's saps. Making use of darkness, the Bachscuttel troops sneak forwards to a position near the enemy. (Above) They then launch a fierce bayonet attack! The use of the word "fierce" is more a matter of artistic licence, of course. A more diffident advance towards the enemy would be hard to imagine unless they were actually moving away from them, waving, and promising to come back at some later time. Much later. And to be honest, even the term "bayonet charge" probably conjures an image of aggression that is unsuitable for an activity that in the hands of Bachscuttlers looks more like the embarrassed rattling of cutlery. Still, undeniably, there is a move by the raiders that can't entirely be classified as a retreat.

One of the perennial features of Mittelheim warfare is irony. And dirt, of course. And morally questionable acts involving livestock and underwear catalogues. But here, irony is in the ascendant: and it decides that the limp musketeers quickly overrun the defending Vulgarian sappers, driving them back to the first parallel; whereas the grenadiers, of course, being Bachscuttel elite, are driven off in confusion, making noises like glassmakers that have sucked instead of blown. Nevertheless, damage has been done, and the Vulgarians must spend some time regrouping.

General Hertz van Rentall decides on reprisals. Deciding not to commit his own grenadiers, the desertion of some of which has stained their honour almost as badly as their trousers, he instead orders one of the Vulgarian spies into action: Lady Katya Natsov. Lady Katya is one of the female coterie that surrounds the new Voivodina of Vulgaria, Lady Carmilla. These strange ladies, porcelain of skin and long of tooth, refer to themselves as "The Grand Coven", a term that surely implies nothing but harmless fun; although, to others of the Vulgarian aristocracy, who perhaps feel aggrieved at having their power usurped, the ladies are instead referred to as "The Tossferatu". 

There is a strange flapping sound, and out of the darkness on one of the bastions, Lady Katya suddenly appears as if from nowhere!

(Above) 'Donner und blitzen!' cry the Bachscuttel sappers in front of her. 

'Bah!' cries Lady Katya, hauling the front of her corsetry back up to cover herself. 'Dat climb too strrrrrrrenuous for silly clothes'. 

The sappers look agog, realising now that it might not have been the lady's wings that were flapping around.

'I come here help you', continues the Vulgarian, pouting. 

The sappers consider this. On the one hand, failing to turn in this stranger who has appeared so suddenly in the fortress will no doubt result in them being hung, drawn, and one sixteenthed.* On the other, there seems to be the promise of intimacy with what is probably a real woman, with no mention of any pecuniary transactions.

'We're game', reply the sappers together.

'I come here for to stirrrrrr leetle insurrrrrrrection!'

'I think that's worked already' replies one enthusiastically.

'No', replies the other. 'She said an insurrection'.

'You prrrrrromise spread rumours and lowerrrrrr morale of population, and I come back, give you keeeeeeess'.

'Give us geese?' says one. 'Thanks, but I'm trying to give up'.

'No, no - a kiss', says the other.

In a few moments, the deal is done. A success for Lady Katya! The morale of the civilian population will decline, as the sappers agree to spread rumours designed to strike terror into any self-respecting citizen of the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel: tales of mandatory bathing, no doubt, and of the raising of the drinking age to five. 

'I fly avay now' says Lady Katya, flapping her hands, and hopping backwards. 

'Madame!' cry the sappers. 'The parap ...'

'I fly avaaaaaaaaaaaaaayaaaaaaaah!' the Lady's words turn into a cry.

'Right over the parapet', the sappers say sadly to one another.

'Should we help her?' asks one.

'It might attract attention', says the other dubiously.

'Do you think her corset has fallen off again?'

They look at one another and then both run for the battlements.

*Merely quartering someone is regarded in Bachscuttel as namby-pamby liberalism.