the Spanish, so Emmanuel must rule."
"True," Pianessa replied, "but Emmanuel is too young to deal with the Waldenses."
"Really? How so?"
Pianessa gestured wearily. "Too many wars against the Waldenses have made them wise. If I attack, they will retreat along the trails and caves—their rope bridges and secret lifts. And the mountains provide a strong defense—narrow approaches where men must be bunched together with no good means of retreat. Once it begins, retreating will be ten times more difficult than advancing."
He paused, mumbled, "I once saw an entire battalion caught on the Castelluzo after dark. I was with them, but I secured myself to a crag with my belt, remained awake, and weathered the night. But almost a thousand men perished in falls before sunrise . In truth, the mountain has killed more men in this valley than all the wars combined."
"Do I sense fear, my dear?"
With a grunt, Pianessa continued, "It’s not like the old days, Elizabeth, when the Vaudois only threw rocks and stones or shot arrows at us from trees. Now they have cannon and muskets. And ten good men with cannon can defy a thousand in one of those ravines." He became grim. "In many ways they have the advantage."
"My love, you have never been defeated. How could the Waldenses possibly withstand your siege?"
"Sieges are won by thirst and starvation, my dear, and the Waldenses have plenty of food and water." Pianessa debated. "Yes, if they are in a strong position, this captain of theirs—Gianavel—can hold off ten times his number for months. Even years."
He leaned back into the couch, more pensive. "A hundred years ago, cannons could reduce any wall. But then the Italians, and then the Spaniards, learned how to build angled bastions with walls forty feet thick that can resist ten thousand shots. And the Waldenses have walls of solid stone hundreds of feet thick. They have the mountain itself." He took another sip, stared into the flames. "No ... brute force will not conquer the Waldenses. Especially not with this man to lead them."
There was a long silence as Elizabeth read the marquis' face. Her eyebrows rose slightly. "You know this man?"
Silence lasted for a moment, and Pianessa frowned. "I encountered him three years ago at the Bat tle of Pinerola."
"Emmanuel said you commanded brilliantly in that bat tle."
"For a time, yes. But the Huns finally broke our line. We were too scattered, and they had depth—depth is always preferable to length." He sighed. "They crushed a single section of our line and cut us into two armies. In truth, we might have lost the day if the Waldensian reinforcements had not arrived when they did."
"My cousin also said that you gave the Waldenses credit for turning the tide of battle," Elizabeth said, watching the marquis carefully. It was seldom that the feared monarch shared credit for his victories.
"Yes," Pianessa muttered. "The Huns attacked through the Monte del Cuerpo—twenty thousand dragoons on horseback. All our positions were overrun. I myself was almost killed." Pianessa's brow hardened. "And then a man came over the barricade with only a dagger and sword but I knew from his coat of arms that he was a Vaudois."
For a long time, Pianessa was silent. He sighed, shook his head once. "Never have I seen a man fight as he fought. He killed Huns like dogs, dropping them where they stood, one after the next, and somehow retook our demi -cannon. Then he swung them around to fire into our own position."
His eyes opened wide. "I thought he was either a traitor or a fool until I realized it was our only hope. The battle was lost. We were going to die anyway, if events didn't change. So I joined him, and we fired blast after blast into their rear guard."
"Why would you do that?"
"A basic rule of war, my dear. If your enemy outnumbers you, separate them and fight one piece at a time." He nodded. "Yes, the Vaudois are wise. And even in the chaos of battle he does not forget wisdom. He is a worthy
"True," Pianessa replied, "but Emmanuel is too young to deal with the Waldenses."
"Really? How so?"
Pianessa gestured wearily. "Too many wars against the Waldenses have made them wise. If I attack, they will retreat along the trails and caves—their rope bridges and secret lifts. And the mountains provide a strong defense—narrow approaches where men must be bunched together with no good means of retreat. Once it begins, retreating will be ten times more difficult than advancing."
He paused, mumbled, "I once saw an entire battalion caught on the Castelluzo after dark. I was with them, but I secured myself to a crag with my belt, remained awake, and weathered the night. But almost a thousand men perished in falls before sunrise . In truth, the mountain has killed more men in this valley than all the wars combined."
"Do I sense fear, my dear?"
With a grunt, Pianessa continued, "It’s not like the old days, Elizabeth, when the Vaudois only threw rocks and stones or shot arrows at us from trees. Now they have cannon and muskets. And ten good men with cannon can defy a thousand in one of those ravines." He became grim. "In many ways they have the advantage."
"My love, you have never been defeated. How could the Waldenses possibly withstand your siege?"
"Sieges are won by thirst and starvation, my dear, and the Waldenses have plenty of food and water." Pianessa debated. "Yes, if they are in a strong position, this captain of theirs—Gianavel—can hold off ten times his number for months. Even years."
He leaned back into the couch, more pensive. "A hundred years ago, cannons could reduce any wall. But then the Italians, and then the Spaniards, learned how to build angled bastions with walls forty feet thick that can resist ten thousand shots. And the Waldenses have walls of solid stone hundreds of feet thick. They have the mountain itself." He took another sip, stared into the flames. "No ... brute force will not conquer the Waldenses. Especially not with this man to lead them."
There was a long silence as Elizabeth read the marquis' face. Her eyebrows rose slightly. "You know this man?"
Silence lasted for a moment, and Pianessa frowned. "I encountered him three years ago at the Bat tle of Pinerola."
"Emmanuel said you commanded brilliantly in that bat tle."
"For a time, yes. But the Huns finally broke our line. We were too scattered, and they had depth—depth is always preferable to length." He sighed. "They crushed a single section of our line and cut us into two armies. In truth, we might have lost the day if the Waldensian reinforcements had not arrived when they did."
"My cousin also said that you gave the Waldenses credit for turning the tide of battle," Elizabeth said, watching the marquis carefully. It was seldom that the feared monarch shared credit for his victories.
"Yes," Pianessa muttered. "The Huns attacked through the Monte del Cuerpo—twenty thousand dragoons on horseback. All our positions were overrun. I myself was almost killed." Pianessa's brow hardened. "And then a man came over the barricade with only a dagger and sword but I knew from his coat of arms that he was a Vaudois."
For a long time, Pianessa was silent. He sighed, shook his head once. "Never have I seen a man fight as he fought. He killed Huns like dogs, dropping them where they stood, one after the next, and somehow retook our demi -cannon. Then he swung them around to fire into our own position."
His eyes opened wide. "I thought he was either a traitor or a fool until I realized it was our only hope. The battle was lost. We were going to die anyway, if events didn't change. So I joined him, and we fired blast after blast into their rear guard."
"Why would you do that?"
"A basic rule of war, my dear. If your enemy outnumbers you, separate them and fight one piece at a time." He nodded. "Yes, the Vaudois are wise. And even in the chaos of battle he does not forget wisdom. He is a worthy
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