The Hungarians brought artillery with them. Bombards and cannon, and a monstrous piece of ordnance called the Varga-mortar, so large it had to be drawn by a team of eighty horses. “Let the garrison at Hainburg see my little toy,” growled Matthias, King of Hungary, “and they will foul their drawers in terror. The castle will be ours within days.” He led his ten thousand mercenaries on to the castle. There they found the Imperial troops of Matthias’ enemy, Emperor Frederick of Austria, dug in behind a formidable series of ditches and improvised barricades. Matthias’ officers clamoured to attack the Austrians. The king, who was no fool, took one look at the enemy fortifications and snarled them into silence. “The whoreson Frederick wants us to break our teeth on his defences,” he said, “I’ll not give him the satisfaction.” None dared to contradict the formidable, heavy-browed monarch, and he despatched orders for his army to make camp on the plains south and west of the castle.
