by J. K. Swift
Chapter 30
“Are you Jodock Schnidrig?” Thomas asked, his voice rough from weeks alone on the road.
The question felt ridiculous, for even before the man nodded, Thomas knew the answer. Standing there with his arms crossed over his massive chest, his pose and stature rivaled that of the rocky peak of the Matterhorn towering in the background. His once blonde hair and beard were marble white, like the tops of the jagged crags that surrounded them on all sides. But his chiseled cheekbones and bright eyes made Thomas think that, in his youth, he had probably been even more handsome than Pirmin.
Several black-necked goats milled about the rocky yard of a small farmhouse nearby. Built entirely of stone, it looked as solid as the man who stood across from Thomas now. Even the shingles on its roof were fashioned from large flat stones overlapping one another.
It had taken Thomas over a month to make it to Wallis from Schwyz. The paths had been steep and dangerous, and he never would have managed it with his precious cargo intact if Noll had not procured for him a specially built alp cart that merchants used for traversing goods over the mountain passes. It was a narrow, two-wheeled, open wagon that was barely wide enough to hold the solid pine box that housed Pirmin’s body.
Thomas cleared the dust from his throat. “I brought your son,” he said.
“My boys are in Tasch,” the man said. His eyes flicked to the box in the back of the cart. Thomas could see him begin to panic.
“No, not one of them,” Thomas said quickly. “Pirmin. I have brought Pirmin home.”
“Pirmin?”
The giant’s eyes went suddenly wide and one leg buckled. He reached out to grab the side of the wagon. Thomas stepped forward and offered his arm, but the man held up his hand. He stared at the box for a long time before he spoke.
“You knew him?”
“Since we were boys,” Thomas said.
He reached into the back of the wagon and dragged out Pirmin’s great ax. He stood it on end and leaned it over to the older man. “This was his. I think he would have wanted you to have it.”
Pirmin’s father pulled his eyes away from the casket and looked at Thomas, the ax, then back at Thomas. He shouted out to someone in the house causing Thomas to jump.
“Mattie! Come out here and meet your brother!”
The door crashed open and a young woman half-walked, half-ran out to meet them. The speed with which she appeared, told Thomas she had probably been watching them the whole time. Her hair was the color of honey-dipped wheat, and where everything Thomas had seen so far of this land had been hard and cold, she was the exact opposite. She talked as she walked, the words bubbling out of her in the strong sing-song Wallis dialect.
“Well, I know you Daddy, and I know Mama too. And if this man is my brother, I swear I will milk the goats myself for a week!”
She stopped in front of Thomas and fixed him with a curious smile. Her eyes were the blue of a dawn sky, and her skin had the healthy glow of someone who liked to be outside. Her face was slightly flushed with excitement, which could have been due to the rare events of the day, but Thomas suspected she always looked like this. She was simply beautiful; like only Pirmin’s sister could have been.
“Not him,” her father said.
Did Thomas detect a hint of disgust at the thought?
“The one in the box.”
Keeping one hand on the cart, the old man walked around to its side. He placed his massive hand slowly on top of the pine box and spread his fingers.
“His name was Pirmin. And I sent him away before you were born.”
The girl’s mouth opened as wide as her eyes. She glanced from Thomas to her father, and bit her lip, waiting for either one to speak. After a time, Pirmin’s father looked at Thomas. The old man’s eyes were wet.
“What is your name, friend?”
His tone, the way he looked straight at you when he spoke, the slight drawl to his words; Thomas saw so much of Pirmin in front of him a lump formed in his throat.
“You can call me Thomi.”
“Can you stay with us a while, Thomi? I would like to hear about my boy.”
And Pirmin would like nothing more, Thomas thought.
He nodded, and followed the Schnidrigs inside.
Chapter 31
Without resources, or any real desire to face the Schwyzers in battle again, Leopold spent the next seven years focusing all his energies on helping his brother regain the crown of the Holy Roman Empire. Just when the war seemed to be going their way, Frederich the Handsome suffered a crushing defeat in 1322. Louis the Bavarian took Frederich, and over a thousand nobles from Austria and Salzburg, captive.
The Habsburgs were beaten. But Leopold continued to resist, and by leveraging his political connections with the other German princes, was a constant threat to the fragile Holy Roman Empire which Louis now ruled. After three years of captivity, to Leopold’s surprise, Louis suddenly released Frederich.
The last leaves of fall were on the ground turning black when Leopold met Frederich’s escort at the gates to Habsburg castle. The two brothers embraced and then Leopold stepped back to appraise his brother’s condition.
For a man held prisoner for over three years, he looked exceptionally well. Better, in fact, than Leopold remembered. Frederich had put on some weight and his eyes were bright, but that could be the glistening effect of the tears of joy he was fighting back at being reunited with his younger brother.
“You look good, brother. Louis treated you well enough, I see,” Leopold said.
“Of course he did. Our cousin is a fair man, and we were friends long before our disagreement over the crown.”
Fair man?
Two foiled assassination attempts in the last year alone had Leopold believing otherwise. But he knew there would be no point in telling his brother just yet. Louis had had three years to shape Frederich’s mind to his cause, and Leopold suspected it would take some time to undo the damage.
“No need to talk out here in the cold. Let us get you into the keep in front of a fire, and put some good Habsburg wine into your belly. Then you can tell me all about your time away.”
Leopold took his brother’s elbow to lead him through the gates, but Frederich pulled his arm away.
“What is it?” Leopold asked.
“I cannot go in just yet. We have something to discuss first.”
“Surely that can wait until you have eaten some—”
“No. It cannot.”
Leopold was afraid of this. Three years was a long time.
“Very well,” Leopold said. “What would you have me know?”
“My release was conditional.”
“On what?”
“I gave Louis my word.”
Leopold felt his throat constrict. Louis knew Frederich’s weakness too well.
“Go on.”
“I promised to speak with you, and convince you that Louis is the best suited ruler for the Empire at this time.”
“You are the rightful heir,” Leopold said. He tried to keep his voice low, soothing. But his throat burned with the taste of bile.
Frederich shrugged. “That no longer matters. We must consider what is best for the entire Holy Roman Empire. The German princes have been divided for too long, and as a result, everyone has suffered. Not just our family.”
Leopold put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Come inside. We can talk more after you have rested.”
Frederich shrugged his touch away. “No. I swore I would not set foot in Habsburg until you recognized Louis as the legitimate ruler. I know this is difficult for you, brother, but it really is best. For the Empire as a whole.”
Leopold could take no more. “Listen to yourself! These are not your words. Your mind has been poisoned and turned against itself. Think of what you say.”
“It is your own mind that swims in poison. Ever since Morgarten.” Frederich shook his head and looked at Leopold with sadness in his eyes. “That
battle did something to you, Leo. It turned you into a distrusting soul, jealous and petty. Here is a chance for you to let go of all that. To be a true Prince of the Empire once again.”
Leopold felt his fist connect square on with the bridge of Frederich’s nose. The cartilage gave way with a grinding pop and Frederich fell to the ground.
“Never!” Leopold’s clenched hand trembled at his side.
Some of Frederich’s escort drew their swords and held them pointed at Leopold, stopping him from advancing on his brother. Leopold’s guards at the gate came pouring through, with weapons drawn, and pulled their lord behind them.
Frederich sat up on the ground. Blood streamed from his broken nose and his eyes were wet with tears of pain and disappointment. He looked at his brother.
“NEVER!” Leopold shouted again from behind his men.
Frederich pushed himself to his feet. He mounted up and turned his horse away from the gates of Habsburg.
***
True to his word, Frederich returned to Louis and confessed he had failed to win over his brother’s obstinacy. He demanded to be put in chains. Legend has it that Louis was so impressed with Frederich’s sense of honor, that he decreed they both should rule together. Louis the Bavarian remained the Holy Roman Emperor, but he agreed to give Frederich the title of King of the Romans.
Less than two months after Frederich the Handsome was crowned King of the Romans, his brother, Leopold I of Habsburg, died. He was thirty-five years old.
Frederich was so upset by his brother’s death, that he immediately resigned his regency as King of the Romans and returned to rule over only Austria. Four years later, Frederich the Handsome, was also dead.
Louis the Bavarian continued to rule the Holy Roman Empire until his death seventeen years later.
Author's notes
Swiss Halberdiers and Pikemen
By the end of the fifteenth century, Swiss mercenaries were the most feared and respected fighting units in Europe. They were ruthless, loyal to their employer, disciplined, and because of their exceptional mobility, revolutionized the use of the halberd and pike on the battlefield. Their ability to change up their formations quickly, turned the pike, which was traditionally used defensively to repel cavalry, into a fearsome offensive weapon effective against infantry as well. They were also known for not retreating from a battle. Of course, their practice of hanging the first man to run from his unit may have something to do with this. For over two hundred years, there was scarcely a battle fought in Europe where one side or the other did not enlist the aid of Swiss mercenaries. Even the Pope employed Swiss guards, and still does to this day.
Unlike other soldiers of fortune at the time, Swiss mercenary units were raised and trained by each canton (state or province). The canton arranged the contracts and received a cut from each assignment. The mercenaries themselves had strict rules they had to follow. These included: Swiss do not fight Swiss, at harvest time we go back home to work the fields, and “no money, no Swiss”.
White Book of Sarnen
It is in the White Book of Sarnen that we first see any mention of William Tell. So named because of its expensive white parchment, it was compiled more than one hundred and fifty years after the Battle of Morgarten (1315). Most historians now believe William Tell was a fictional character created much later than the tumultuous times in which he was supposed to exist.
Helvetia
The official name for Switzerland is Confederatio Helvetica (the Helvetic Confederation), which is why its country code today is CH. Helvetia is the female personification of Switzerland. A peaceful, yet protective figure, she is usually depicted wearing a wreath in her hair and carrying a shield and sword. Her image currently appears on everything from Swiss Franc coins to postage stamps. In other words, the Helvetii are still going strong to this day. As for the Druids of the Helvetii, only one of their order could tell you of their fate.
About the author
J. K. Swift lives in a log house well off the beaten path in central B.C., Canada. He has worked as a school teacher, jailhouse guard, Japanese translator, log peeler, accountant, martial arts instructor, massage therapist, technical editor, and has called a few Bingo games. He gets his story ideas while traveling in Europe, feeding his chickens, and cutting wood. He is currently working on a prequel series to The Forest Knights which follows Thomas, Pirmin, and the other Schwyzers as they grow up in the Holy Land.
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Thank you very much for reading my work. Reviews and personal recommendations from readers like you are the most important way for an author to attract more readers, so I truly am grateful to anyone who takes the time to rate my work. If you could take a moment to rate my story and/or leave a review where you purchased it, I would greatly appreciate it. It doesn’t need to be long—a sentence or two about why you liked it or disliked it would be great. Feel free to contact me through my website and blog with any questions or comments. Thanks very much!
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J. K. Swift’s website and blog: http://jkswift.com/
The Forest Knights website: http://theforestknights.com/
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