This led to great discussion in our camp about the town. On the one hand it was hardly advisable to leave it as it was, on the other to try to storm it without a breach would cost much blood and the outcome would still be uncertain; and it would take a great deal of effort, time and expense to bring up the guns and equipment from Münster or Hamm. While everybody, from the general to the lowest private, was deliberating on this, it seemed to me it would be a good idea to use the opportunity to get myself out of prison. So I racked my brains to think up a way of fooling the enemy into thinking we had the guns, which was all we lacked. One immediately occurred to me, so I sent word to my lieutenant-colonel that I had a plan for taking the place without trouble or expense, if I would be pardoned and set at liberty.
Some of the experienced campaigners laughed at this and said, ‘A hanged man will even clutch at the noose. This young lad thinks he can talk his way out of it.’ But the lieutenant-colonel and others who knew me took my proposal seriously. He went to see the general himself and told him all he could about me. Since the general had already heard of the Huntsman, he had me temporarily freed from my fetters and brought to him. When I arrived, the general was at table and the lieutenant-colonel was telling him about my first spell on sentry duty at St. James’s Gate in Soest the previous spring. A violent storm had suddenly broken, with thunder and lightning, sending everyone rushing from the fields and gardens into the city. In the great crush of people on foot and on horseback I had had the presence of mind to call out the guard, because that kind of throng provided an ideal opportunity to take the town. ‘The last of all to come’, he went on, ‘was an old woman who was soaking wet. As she went past the Huntsman she said, “I’ve been feeling this storm in my back for the last fourteen days.” The Huntsman happened to have a stick in his hand, and when he heard her say that he hit her across the back with it and said, “Why didn’t you let it out earlier, you old witch, instead of waiting till I’m on sentry duty?” And when his officer told him to stop, he replied, “It serves the old crow right. She must have heard everyone crying out for rain a month ago. Why didn’t she let them have it sooner? The barley and hops might have done better.”’ Count von der Wahl, although he was in general a rather serious-minded person, laughed out loud at this and I thought to myself, if the lieutenant is telling him that piece of tomfoolery then he’ll have surely not kept quiet about all my other silly pranks. However, I was still shown in.
When the general asked me what I had to say, I replied, ‘Sir, although your Excellency’s warranted ban on duelling and my crime mean that my life is justly forfeit, yet the loyalty I owe my most gracious lord, His Majesty the Holy Roman Emperor, until my dying day, demands that I do anything in my power, however feeble it be, to injure the enemy and further the interests and aid the forces of His Aforesaid Majesty, the Holy Roman Emperor.’ The Count interrupted me and asked, ‘Are you not the man who brought me the negro recently?’
‘Yes, sir’, I replied.
‘In that case’, he said, ‘perhaps your zeal and loyalty do merit a reprieve. What is your plan for getting the enemy out of this place without any significant loss of time or lives?’
‘Since the town cannot resist heavy artillery, my humble opinion is that the enemy would quickly come to terms if they believed we had the guns.’
‘Even a fool could have told me that’, the Count replied, ‘but who is going to persuade them that we do have them?’
‘Their own eyes’, I answered. ‘I have examined their look-out post through my telescope and they can be deceived by fixing some pieces of timber shaped like water-pipes to carts and having them drawn by a strong team of horses. They will believe it is heavy artillery soon enough, especially if your Excellency has some earthworks thrown up, as if you meant to position them there.’
‘But my dear young chap’, said the Count, ‘they’re not children in there. They won’t believe a piece of bluff like that, they’ll want to hear the guns. And if the trick fails’, he said, turning to the officers standing around, ‘we’ll be the laughing stock of the whole world.’
‘Sir’, I replied, ‘I’ll give them guns that will make their ears ring if I can just have a few blunderbusses and a fairly large barrel. The sound will be the only effect, of course, and if, contrary to expectation, all we get from it is mockery, then let it be directed at me and, since I am condemned to die anyway, I will take it to the grave with me.’
The Count was still not keen on the idea, but the lieutenant-colonel talked him round, saying I was blessed with such luck in this kind of thing that he had no doubt this stratagem would be successful too. The general ordered him, since he believed it was feasible, to organise the matter, adding, as a joke, that any honour from it would redound to him alone.
So three large logs were found, each hauled by twenty-four horses though two would have been sufficient and brought up in sight of the enemy towards evening. In the meantime I had also got hold of three blunderbusses and a large barrel from a castle and set them up the way I wanted them. Once it was dark they were taken up to our sham artillery. I gave the blunderbusses a double charge and fired them through the barrel, which had had the bottom knocked out, as if we were firing three trial shots. It made such a thunderous noise that anyone would have sworn blind they were great siege guns or demi-culverins.
The general had to laugh at our fake salvo and once more offered the enemy terms, with the proviso that if they did not accept them that evening they would suffer for it the next day. At that hostages were exchanged, terms agreed and one of the town gates handed over to us that same night. All this turned out very well for me. Not only did the general pardon me for having broken his ban on duelling but he ordered the lieutenant-colonel, in my presence, to give me the first ensign’s post to fall vacant. This, however, did not suit the lieutenant-colonel, for he had too many cousins and in-laws waiting for a post for me to be given precedence over them.
Nothing else of note happened to me on that expedition. When I got back to Soest I discovered that the Hessians from Lippstadt had captured the servant I had left behind with my baggage in my quarters together with a horse which he had taken out to graze. From him the enemy learnt more about the way I went about things and came to respect me even more, for until then they had accepted the general rumour that I had magic powers. He told them that he had been one of the ‘devils’ that had given the Huntsman of Werl such a fright at the sheep-farm. When the said Huntsman heard this he felt so humiliated that he made himself scarce again, leaving Lippstadt to join the Dutch. For me, however, the capture of my servant turned out to be a great piece of good fortune, as will become apparent from later instalments of my story.
Now I began to tone down my behaviour, since I had such great hopes of soon being made ensign. I associated more and more with the officers and with the young noblemen who were hoping to achieve what I imagined would soon be mine. That made them my worst enemies, though to my face they behaved as if they were my best friends; the lieutenant-colonel was no longer so well-disposed towards me either because he had been ordered to promote me over the heads of his relatives. My captain, an old miser, also bore me a grudge because I had much finer horses, clothes and arms than he and no longer treated him to free drink as liberally as before. He would have been happier to see my head chopped off than an ensign’s post promised me, since he had hoped to inherit my splendid horses.
The lieutenant hated me for a careless word I had let slip recently. It happened during the last expedition when we were both sent to act as look-out in a particularly exposed position. When it was my turn to keep watch, which had to be done lying down, even though it was pitch dark, the lieutenant crawled up to me on his belly, like a snake, and said, ‘Look-out, can you see anything?’ to which I replied, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘What? What?’ he said.
‘I can see that you’re afraid’, I said.
From then on I was completely out of favour with him and I was always the first to be sent wherever the danger was greatest. He kept looking for any opportunity to give me a good thrashing before I was made ensign, because until then I could not resist. The sergeants were no less hostile to me either because I was preferred to them. Even the love and friendship of the ordinary soldiers was beginning to waver, since it looked as if I despised them because, as I said, I had started associating more with my betters, who liked me none the better for it.
The worst thing about all this was that no one told me how everybody was against me and I was not aware of it myself because those who would rather have seen me dead were most friendly to my face. In my blindness I felt secure and grew more and more arrogant. And even when I did know that some people were annoyed – for example nobles and officers of rank when I cut a more splendid figure than them – that still didn’t stop me. After I had been made lance-corporal I thought nothing of wearing a doublet that cost sixty thalers, fine red breeches and white satin sleeves, trimmed all over with gold and silver, which was what the highest officers wore at the time, so that I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was a young fool with my spendthrift ways. Had I behaved differently, had I used the money I threw away on this finery to grease the right palms, I would not only have soon become ensign, I would not have made so many enemies. And as if that were not enough, I decked out my best horse – the one Tearaway had taken from the Hessian captain – with such a saddle, bridle and other accoutrements that when I mounted it you would have thought me a noble knight, another St. George even.
Nothing annoyed me more than the fact that I wasn’t a nobleman and so could not dress my servant and groom in my livery. I thought to myself, everything has to start somewhere, if you can get a coat of arms, that will mean you already have your own livery, and when you become ensign, you have to have a seal, even if you’re not Lord So-and-so. It was not long before I acted on this idea and had an earl marshal devise a coat of arms for me. It had three red masks on a white field; the crest was the bust of a young jester in calfskin costume with two hare’s ears and little bells hanging down at the front. I thought this best suited my name, Simplicius. I also wanted to have the fool to remind me, in my future greatness, of what I had been in Hanau, to stop me becoming too haughty, for I already had no small opinion of myself. Thus I became the first of my name, family and escutcheon, and if anyone had tried to make fun of me because of it, he would certainly have found me offering him the choice of swords or pistols.
Although at the time I wasn’t yet interested in women, I used to accompany the nobles when they went visiting young ladies, of whom there were many in the town, in order to let myself be seen and to show off my fine hair, clothes and plumes. I have to say that as far as my looks were concerned I was preferred to all others, but at the same time I overheard the spoilt minxes compare me to a handsome, well carved wooden statue, completely lacking in spirit and sparkle, for my outward appearance was the only thing they liked about me. Apart from playing the lute, there was nothing I could do or say to please them, since I still knew nothing about love-making. However, when those who were at ease in the company of young ladies also started making fun of my wooden manner and gaucheness, just to curry favour with them and show off their own fluency, I simply said I was happy at the moment to get my pleasure out of a gleaming sword or a good musket. The ladies backed me up, which annoyed the others so much that they secretly swore to kill me, though there was not one of them had the guts to challenge me, or to give me cause to challenge him. A slap would have been enough, or a mild insult, especially since I gave them all a provocative stare. From this the ladies guessed I must be a pretty resolute young man and said out loud that my good looks and sense of honour were more persuasive than all the compliments Cupid ever devised, which only made the others angrier than ever.
I had two fine horses that were my pride and joy; every day when I had nothing else to do I exercised them in the riding-school or through the town and fields. It wasn’t that the horses had anything to learn, I just wanted people to see that these beautiful beasts belonged to me. When I went cantering down a street or, rather, the horse pranced down it with me on its back, the simple folk would watch me and say to each other, ‘Look, that’s the Huntsman. What a fine horse! What a magnificent plume!’ or, ‘Lord, look at the man!’ and I would prick up my ears and wallow in it, as if the Queen of Sheba had compared me to Solomon in all his glory. But, fool that I was, I didn’t hear what sensible people thought or my enemies said of me. The latter doubtless hoped I would break my neck because they could not match me; others certainly thought that if everyone got their due I would not be riding round in such splendour. In a word, the wisest doubtless considered me a young show-off whose ostentation would not last long, since it was based on a poor foundation, being supported by uncertain booty alone. And to tell the truth, I must admit that this assessment was not far wrong, even though at the time I couldn’t see it. All I knew was that I could make things hot for any man who had to deal with me, so that even though I was little more than a child I could still pass as a good soldier. But what made me such a great personage was the fact that nowadays the least stable-boy can shoot the greatest hero in the world dead. Had gunpowder not been invented my main food would have been humble pie.
It was my custom on these outings to ride over every path and track, every ditch, marsh, thicket, hill and stream in order to familiarise myself with them and fix them in my memory so that if it ever came to a skirmish with the enemy I could exploit any advantage a place might offer for attack or defence. With this in mind I was once riding along an old wall not far from the town where there had formerly been a house. As soon as I saw it I thought it would be an ideal spot to lie in ambush, or to retreat to, especially if we dragoons were outnumbered and pursued by cavalry. I rode into the courtyard, the walls of which were in a fairly ruinous state, to see whether one could take refuge there on horseback if necessary and how it could be defended on foot. I rode round, inspecting everything closely, but when I was about to ride past the cellar, the walls of which were still sound, I could not get my horse, which was usually never afraid of anything, to go where I wanted, despite all my coaxing and cajoling. I spurred him till I began to feel sorry for him, but it was still no use. I dismounted and led him by the bridle down the ruined steps, which was what he was shying at, to have a look at the place for future reference. He still kept backing as much as he could, but with much coaxing and stroking I eventually managed to get him down. As I patted him I realised he was sweating with fear and his eyes were fixed on one corner of the cellar where he absolutely refused to go, yet where I could not see the slightest thing to make the most skittish animal take fright.