Marshal von Moltke shouted at his attendants with all his strength, "My horse! Bring me my horse!"
A moment later, he panted as he climbed into the saddle, gripping the reins tightly and heading for William III's tent.
But he was too old to let the horse break into a run. Otherwise, he could fall from the saddle at any moment.
He anxiously waved to an officer beside him. "General Schmettau, hurry and protect His Majesty's withdrawal!"
"Yes, Marshal!"
It took Marshal von Moltke a full ten minutes to reach the lavish tent William III had been using, only to find Major General Schmettau standing nearby in a daze.
He frowned, urged his horse forward, and called out, "What are you doing? Where is His Majesty?"
Schmettau turned around and shook his head. "His Majesty... isn't here."
Moltke froze, then shouted at the guards, "Go find His Majesty at once!"
"No need." Schmettau raised a hand to stop the guards, then pointed at several Royal Guards nearby. "His Majesty has already left."
"Left?" Moltke looked at the Royal Guards in surprise. "Where has His Majesty gone?"
One of them lowered his head. "His Majesty... heard that the defensive line had been breached, so he returned to Naumburg. We were ordered to pack up his furniture here..."
Moltke's eyes filled with shock, but he soon nodded with a bitter smile. "Very good. His Majesty's safety is the most important thing. This is good."
He turned to the Orderly Officer. "Immediately summon the Hussar battalion to hold off the enemy cavalry..."
Then he sighed again. It seemed that directing the battle for most of the day had drained all his strength. He slowly sat down on the carpet in front of the tent. "Send word to Naumburg. Have them dispatch men to