Chapter 603: Different Battlefields
Polish commander General Tadeusz Kościuszko, noticing the enemy cavalry's movement, immediately instructed his officers to keep four squadrons of their own cavalry ready to reinforce.
The winged hussars were a symbol of Poland, and it was imperative that they won every battle—at least until the decisive showdown with Russia.
Kościuszko had a consistent strategy: he would only deploy the newly formed winged hussars when victory was already within reach. This allowed them to decisively end battles, thereby building their reputation.
Of course, the winged hussars weren't ordinary soldiers. They were elite troops, handpicked from thousands of cavalrymen. Their equipment and salaries were the highest in the Polish army, and their morale was sky-high.
As soon as the Serbian cavalry clashed with the winged hussars, they were utterly routed.
The hussars' commander, Antoni Madaliński, immediately dispatched one squadron to pursue the fleeing Serbian riders. Meanwhile, the remaining troops regrouped, raised their red-handled sabers, and launched an assault on the Serbian infantry.
A Decisive Victory
An hour and a half later, Kościuszko watched the fleeing enemy disappear from view and gave the order to cease the pursuit.
His orders from Prince Poniatowski were to train the army as much as possible through real combat. Kościuszko estimated that his forces had killed or captured nearly a thousand Serbians in this battle. While he could have pursued and annihilated them entirely, doing so would leave fewer opportunities for further engagements.
Suppressing his guilt, he turned to the Austrian commander beside him and said,
"Our reconnaissance of the northern banks of the Sava River is insufficient. A deeper pursuit could lead us into an ambush."
The Austrian commander, already accustomed to Kościuszko's cautious style, praised him profusely and did not press further.
Meanwhile, the winged hussars swaggered back to camp with over 300 Serbian prisoners. Their majestic feathers shimmered in the sunset, drawing envious and admiring stares from the Polish soldiers.
The hussars' battlefield performance aside, their striking appearance alone was enough to inspire awe among all troops.
The iconic wings they carried were made of fine steel rods adorned with ostrich feathers, weighing only 11 pounds. These were custom-made by French fashion companies and cost a hefty 50 francs each—funded through loans arranged by the Lyon Textile Guild. Without this support, cash-strapped Poland wouldn't have been able to afford them.
The benefits of this practical combat training were also becoming evident.
The fresh recruits, who had only undergone basic drills and shooting practice before, showed marked improvement after a few months of real combat. They were no longer panicked by the sight of death around them and were far more disciplined in reloading and firing. Their battlefield effectiveness now equaled that of soldiers who had undergone two and a half years of peacetime training.
Winter Palace, St. Petersburg
When Platon Zubov saw the familiar, aged face of Stanisław II appear at the palace door, his mood soured instantly, as though he'd spent a miserable day trudging through muddy autumn fields.
Even Catherine the Great seemed somewhat surprised. Looking at the bowing Polish king, she asked,
"I thought you'd be busy with constitutional reform for quite some time."
"Oh, you know how it is," the "old flame" replied earnestly, "but my longing for you made it impossible for me to focus on anything else. So, as soon as I signed the paper, I rushed back here."
Catherine glanced at the "young flame" standing beside her and, feeling a bit awkward, waved for him to leave. She then turned back to Stanisław II and said,
"Staszek, perhaps you should take the Polish constitution more seriously. From what I've heard, it's unfair to many honorable nobles."
"Oh, Your Majesty, can we discuss the constitution a bit later?" he asked, signaling a servant at the door to bring in his guitar. With a sense of urgency, he added,
"During my journey back to Warsaw, as I longed for you, I composed a song. I simply must play it for you now. I've named it 'Amours Interdits'."
Catherine's expression softened into a gentle smile as she nodded.
"I'm looking forward to it."
The soft strains of the guitar filled the room, flowing like a gentle caress over Catherine's heart. The melody instantly transported her into a state of blissful nostalgia.
The piece Stanisław II played was none other than the timeless classic "Romance" (also known as "Romance Anónimo"). Its delicate, flowing notes felt like a lover whispering sweet memories of days gone by.
Stanisław II had received the piece from France's Crown Prince, who had told him to save it as a trump card. Today, he played it at the perfect moment.
He understood that the Polish constitution had removed many longstanding abuses and would help the nation recover and even thrive. But such reforms inevitably threatened the interests of the nobility and Russia. Without addressing these "leeches," Poland would remain weak forever.
Though Russia publicly claimed it wouldn't interfere with Poland's legislative process, it had covertly supported pro-Russian factions in Poland to block the constitution's passage.
This was why it had taken over a decade to finalize Poland's constitution.
What the Crown Prince hadn't told him was that historically, just one year after the Sejm ratified the May 3 Constitution, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Poland.
While Poland had softened the constitution's more radical provisions and monitored the Targowica Confederation, the risk of Russian aggression remained high.
When Stanisław II concluded his performance, Catherine spent several minutes savoring the music before applauding lightly.
"You're every bit as talented as the geniuses in Vienna. I'd love to hear it again."
"It's yours, Your Majesty. You can hear it as many times as you wish."
Stanisław II promptly resumed playing.
That evening, after he performed "My Heart Will Go On" and reminisced with Catherine, she seemed deeply content.
As the session drew to a close, Stanisław prepared to leave when Catherine spoke up.
"There's still some time before dinner. Why don't you tell me about this Polish constitution? Didn't you just return from Warsaw?"
The Polish king froze, realizing he couldn't avoid the topic forever. Turning back with a smile, he replied,
"Your Majesty, truly, there isn't much to say. Poland is so poor that my ministers thought they should give the lower classes a bit of hope—just enough to motivate them to work harder and pay more taxes. Of course, this will also benefit the strength of Russia."
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