by Peter Pogany

Created on: March 12, 2011

A forceful gust blew through the arrow slits of the Tunauwick castle on this late November day of 1805. Perched on a rocky crag, accessible only along a narrow, winding road, the formidable neo-gothic fortification had repelled many assaults since the Middle Ages when Germans first settled in Bohemia. Although by the time Napoleon roamed Europe, flankers and towers dotting defensive double walls had lost their strategic significance, they still sheltered the privileged from the mayhem.            

Indeed, none of the harshness of the outside world was palpable in the sitting room of the palatial central building. 

“Clean your skirt of hedonistic dreams my child,” advised Countess Tunauwick to her barely18-year old daughter, Theresa.

“I would rather pull out my tooth than stop dreaming, ma-ma,” flew the pert, self-confident reply.

“I understand that you are happy, liebling, but that is hardly a good reason to giggle at every word Georg utters. You must be a statue of virtue, a reticent maiden whose purity awakens a champion’s desire to rescue her from the convent. Use your education to have a witty conversation. Anyway, the two of you will be a married by Christmas and you will soon find out what life is about.”

Bathed till their skin turned transparently soft, perfumed with the latest fragrance from Milan, mother and daughter wore matching blue Kashmir gowns with blood-red velvet collars. They were ready to receive Theresa’s debonair fiancé, Baron Georg von Rauch, staff officer of the Austrian Cavalry and musical talent extraordinaire.     

At present, Georg was conferring with Count Tunauwick, Theresa’s father, and a few other gentlemen. He gave an upbeat report about the war. Of course, the Austrian side was badly defeated at Ulm last month, but the Grand Army was weakened in the process and the battle allowed for the general staff to identify its fatal vulnerabilities.

“The decisive clash, which is only weeks if not days away, will most likely take place in Austerlitz: Meine Herren, the Usurper is about to be finished off for good,” Georg concluded.  

They raised their glasses and drank to the imminent defeat of Napoleon.

Then the conversation turned to the future. The Holy Roman Empire, which had endured for over eight centuries, would continue its glorious presence in the heart of Europe

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