1635- the Wars for the Rhine (ARC)

by Anette Pedersen

  Simon swallowed and mumbled something he didn’t know for sure if was a “yes, sir” or an oath.

  South bank of the Danube between Vichtenstein and Passau, two days later

  “And just how are you enjoying your first command?”

  At the sound of Wolf’s voice Simon looked up at the grinning man, and wondered how much trouble he would get from giving the answer that first came to his mind. No, he was much too angry to give an honest answer, so instead he jumped to his feet, gave his most elegant bow and stood straight shouting: “Sir! Yes, Sir! Everything as you ordered, Sir!”

  Wolf’s jaw literally dropped for a moment, then he laughed out loud and clapped Simon on the shoulder. “As bad as that, boy?”

  The two men looked down the hill at the camp being organized on the meadow around the rickety barn. The general’s dispatch had given an estimate of the Hessian cavalry as two or three thousand, and Wolf had brought less than fifteen hundred, but there was just no way to get all the regiments to Bonn in time, and no one expected Wolf to try meeting the Hessians in open battle anyway. The men on the meadow represented the absolute maximum strike force the regiments could field in the least number of bodies. They were all veterans proven and trusted by their officers, all expert riders on well trained horses, and all equipped with the best weapons to be had in the HRE. All—that is—except for half of Simon’s little group of six persons now gathering around a campfire slightly removed from the rest.

  Pettenburg’s Specialists—as they were called in the files—had been handpicked by Wolf, and only Marsch, Lenz and Niederthal were to do the work General von Hatzfeldt would normally have assigned them to. They were—like Simon—couriers and scouts supposed to ride very fast horses behind and through enemy lines carrying messages and gathering information about troop movements. Occasionally that also meant fighting—and usually against rather bad odds—so they were also better than average with both sabre and pistols. Of course slender, red-haired Marsch, who was the son of a very well-to-do locksmith, could also open any lock except the American ones, burly, swarthy Lenz, whose father owned a mine, was very good at setting off small precise explosions, and non-descript Niederthal, who never spoke of his background, had a padded crate filled with bottles and packets of American chemicals. Still, they were all three fine fighting men, and Simon would have been proud of being made their leader.

  Ferret-like Schaden, on the other hand, usually worked at curing the sick horses in Lorentz’s regiment, and while he was really good at using any kind of knife, he was also well known for being unable to hit a barn with a musket at ten paces, and likely to do more damage to himself than his opponent with a sword. What he could do better than anyone else, was to sneak close to an enemy camp and silently remove any guards or other inconvenient persons. Not a skill often called for in the normal order of things, but being able to get that close to the enemy camps also meant getting really detailed information about their number, equipment and fighting moral.

  Allenberg was a relative newcomer to the regiments, and normally the head quartermaster of Melchior von Hatzfeldt’s old regiment. He had joined shortly before the last campaign, and had made no secret of his lack of fighting ability and experience, but he was—in addition to being able to squeeze all kinds of information out of papers and ledgers for the general—also quietly known to be able to produce a most amazing range of papers and permissions. The general presumably didn’t know about Allenberg’s little nebengeschäft, but the Wolf had absolutely no objection to getting over a difficult ground as lightly as possible, and Simon’s talk with Allenberg had resulted in the finest set of forged papers Simon had ever seen. Simon rather liked the calm and solid looking forger, but Allenberg didn’t socialize much, and usually went back to quarters after buying his round at any tavern.

  Allenberg’s assistant, “Rosy” Ross, on the other hand was usually the life and soul of any party. He was a fair and rather fragile looking Scot, who had all kind of outrageous stories about his background, but in Simon’s opinion the one about running away from his strict parson father to become an actor, sounded the most likely. Whether he had ever been the foremost player of female roles at the royal theater in London was a different matter, but he could in fact get away with impersonating a woman long enough to gather all kinds of information in a market, and had an almost uncanny ability to gain friends quickly in any tavern. What he could do in a fight no one had ever seen, but judging from the minimal training the general insisted on, it really wouldn’t be much.

  “The road north from Passau is no easier than the one you rode from Nurnberg to Regensburg.” Wolf turned to look westward squinting his eyes against the setting sun. “That leaves us with Deggendorf, Ingolstadt, Donauwörth, or Ulm. I want you to enter Passau tomorrow, while the rest of us cross the Inn, and see what information you can gather.”

  “Very well, sir. I’ll take Niederthal and Rosy with me. We’ll leave Rosy on his own, and go inquire about permission to set up a recruitment table at the Christmas Fair.” Simon stated calmly.

  “Recruiting at Christmas is rare.” Wolf remarked “What’ll be the excuse for not waiting until the hiring fair in spring?”

  “Unsettled times. Farmers seeing the harvest cannot last until spring. ” Simon shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”

  “While looking young, earnest and just a little naïve.” Wolf laughed and slapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Carry on, boy, carry on.”

  Chapter 20

  Bonn, Eigenhaus House

  October 5, 1634

  “The last of the Hessian cannons are being moved into position, Frau Benedicte.” Charlotte leaned her gun against the wooden panels in the hall, and removed her helmet. “All the rain has softened the ground, which is slowing them down, but the Town Guard I spoke to expected they would be ready to start bombarding us from all sides the day after tomorrow.”

  “I know, my dear. Commander Wickradt came by earlier today. But go remove your kyras, and spend a moment greeting your son. Then come join me and Irmgard. We need to make plans.”

  * * *

  When Charlotte entered Frau Benedicte’s private parlor, she found the two sisters looking at maps spread all over the biggest table.

  “Good evening, my dear.” Irmgard came smiling forward to hug Charlotte. “I took a look at your baby earlier. A very healthy boy.”

  “Yes, very.” Charlotte smiled and hugged the friendly midwife back. “I wish I could have nursed him for longer, but my milk dried out after a few weeks. Fortunately Frau Siemens has milk to spare, as her little girl doesn’t seem to need very much, so she can give him a little extra while I’m on the walls. But I went by the infirmary on my way back.” Charlotte sat down in the chair, where she used to sit repairing the Eigenhause linen, leaned back her head and sighed. “I never went to the hospital in Düsseldorf, where the wounded from Wolfgang’s campaign were taken. They sometimes sent a request for this or that—mainly food and linen or money for medicine—but I just passed those on to my chatelaine. I never realized how bad it would be. How children would also be wounded, when cannons were firing at a town. I suppose you both know that the Mittelfeld household was among the first hit? That Karl’s wife was killed immediately, and that two of their children died this afternoon?” She looked at the two older women, who nodded silently to her questions.

  “Yes. There’s only the oldest daughter and the baby left, and Karl isn’t back from Mainz yet,” said Irmgard. “That’ll be some homecoming for my old friend.”

  “Knowing how busy you both are with the infirmary, I presume you didn’t ask me to come here to discuss my little Bobo?”

  “Well, only indirectly,” said Frau Benedicte. “It looks as if neither von Hatzfeldt’s regiments nor any orders from Gustavus Adolphus are going to be here in time to stop Hesse from attacking. We might be able to prevent him from taking the town before help arrives, but those walls weren’t built with modern cannons in mind, so it’s going
to cost a lot of lives.” Frau Benedicte looked straight at Charlotte. “You might be able to prevent that.”

  “How? Giving myself and my baby into his hands would keep only the two of us safe—or relatively so—but Hesse would still want Bonn. Or are you considering trying to trade us for a promise?”

  “Not quite.” Frau Benedicte answered seriously. “Hesse definitely want both Bonn and Cologne, but not—we believe—at the cost of severely angering Gustavus Adolphus. And that is what would happen if Hesse killed or seriously endangered the favorite niece of Gustavus Adolphus’s favorite sister. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes. Probably. And I know I owe you for your help and protection.” Charlotte rose from her chair and started wandering back and forth across the floor.

  “My dear,” said Irmgard. “We know that publishing your whereabouts would place the two of you in a vulnerable position, but if Hesse knew you were on the walls, and also that Gustavus Adolphus knew that Hesse knew, this might buy us the time we need. Once the siege is lifted, I promise you we’ll do anything in our power to get you and your baby safely back to your family. We’ll not agree to any deal involving turning you over to Hesse.”

  Charlotte stopped her pacing and nodded. “I’ve been thinking too. A bad fight. A long siege. Such increases the risk of a massacre. Everybody knows that after Magdeburg. No leader, no matter how strict can be certain to keep his men under discipline during a sack. I’ve been trying to come up with a way to use my presence to protect the town, without placing myself and little Bobo in more danger than absolutely necessary. So: what do you both know about General von Hatzfeldt? I mean: as a person. His military life must be well known to everyone in this town by now.”

  “We haven’t seen that much of him for the last twenty years,” said Frau Benedicte with a frown. “But before that he was a very nice boy and young man. Studious like all of old Sebastian’s children, and very idealistic. I cannot imagine what made him abandon his plans to enter the Order of St. John, and instead take up a life as a mercenary. I know he has done very well for himself financially, and Commander Wickradt has told us that in addition to being ennobled, von Hatzfeldt has also been given plenipotentiary powers from Vienna to act on behalf of the HRE with regard to the entire Cologne area.”

  “What General von Hatzfeldt was like twenty years ago doesn’t help,” said Charlotte curtly. “Wolfgang wasn’t a bad husband until the external pressure and threats mounted to more than he could take.”

  The two older women looked at each other, then at Charlotte. “Husband?” asked Frau Benedicte. “Are you considering marrying Melchior von Hatzfeldt?”

  “Yes,” said Charlotte harshly. “And not just for the siege. Sooner or later I’ll have to let people know where I am. My brother, Friedrich, will do his best to protect me and little Bobo, but Friedrich is still very young, and the rest of the family—including both Gustavus Adolphus and Aunt Katharina—are going to want me to remarry. And to their benefit, not necessarily to mine. The only way I can see for me to retain some control of both Bobo and my own life, is if I am already married when they find me. I want a husband powerful enough to protect me and Bobo, but of a rank too low for him to aspire to Bobo’s heritage. A birth lower than mine would also make it difficult for him to get away with treating me the way Wolfgang did, but a commoner is not a possibility. That would make my relatives demand the marriage be annulled. General and Imperial Count Melchior von Hatzfeldt seem to fit my requirement fairly well.

  “Benedicte told me you had met him on the walls,” said Irmgard. “How do you feel about him?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Charlotte stopped pacing and sat down, wrapping her arms around her body. “I don’t know.” She frowned. “He seemed intelligent. And kind. And didn’t seem to mind me talking back to him.”

  “No,” said Frau Benedicte firmly. “I’m sure he knows how to keep his soldiers in line, but none of old Sebastian’s children would ever try to suppress another person’s mind. The entire family is rather extreme in that regard.” She smiled at Charlotte. “It would not have done for you as a first marriage, but as a widow with lands of her own, there would certainly be benefits for you in such a marriage. I suppose the solution had not occurred to me because his ennoblement is so new; I’m simply not used to think about Melchior von Hatzfeldt as an Imperial Count.”

  “Yes, yes, Dicte. We can all see the practical benefits, but there is more to life than that, and Charlotte doesn’t need a second bad marriage.” Irmgard was still frowning. “Charlotte, if you disregard all the practical considerations, would you still at least consider marrying him?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlotte sat silent for a while, still huddled and looking down on the floor. “He’s quite handsome.” She looked up. “I wanted to talk with him again after that first conversation, but while he has come by on all my watches, Commander Wickradt has always been with him. We’ve only been able to exchange the most commonplace remarks. Asking my name, and how Bobo was doing? Things like that.” She smiled a little. “Few of the other women in the militias are still on wall duty, and he definitely wanted me to stay away too. But he didn’t order me away, and he could have.”

  “I see.” Now Irmgard was smiling too. “Sounds like the two of you have at least some natural interest in each other.”

  “So you both think it would be a good idea?” Charlotte looked at the two sisters.

  “For Bonn? Yes. For you?” Frau Benedicte gave a wry smile. “If you are asking whether you’ll be happy, then that’s impossible to know. But you are no fool, Lotti, and heaven knows you no longer trust easily. If you think beyond the present difficulties, and imagine taking control of Wolfgang’s legacy, then would you rather do so on your own, or would you prefer to have Melchior von Hatzfeldt at your side?

  Charlotte sat for a while, then she slowly unfolded from her cramped position, and smiled at the two sisters with a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you think you could come up with a gown that would look good as a background for my gun?”

  Chapter 21

  Bonn, Eigenhaus House

  October 6, 1634

  Melchior took his hat off, slapped it against his leg and put it back on while looking at the stout half-timbered house. “Is there anything in Bonn that the Eigenhaus family is not involved in?”

  Wickradt chuckled. “Probably not. But having just one place to go when needing something does have its benefits.”

  “Are you sure this is where the Jülich-Berg heir and his mother are staying? If we don't find some way to get Hesse to stop the cannons, I'll have to surrender, or the town will be nothing but rubble in a few weeks. Those new cannons are devastating, and Hesse shows far less regard for casualties than I'd expected.”

  “No, but I’m sure this is where we should start if we wants to find them.” Wickradt knocked on the door.

  “Good evening, Lotti.” Melchior smiled at the young woman from the militias. Without her helmet he could see that her blond hair had dark roots, as if she was lightening her hair with chamomile or chemicals in the manner of certain Viennese court ladies. Few hausfraus would permit such behavior in their servant, but Lotti’s language showed that despite her sunburned skin, her birth and upbringing had to be far above the servant’s class. That she had given her name only as Lotti and made no mention of a family name was a bit odd, but with all the shady deals and betrayals following in the wake of the war, many previously honorable names were now a matter of shame. The mystery of Lotti’s name was probably nothing more than a young woman’s disapproval of her family’s actions. Her passionate outburst about being a pawn in other people’s games at their first meeting had certainly indicated something of that nature.

  Melchior shook his head at his own thoughts as they were guided through the house. He really liked the passionate young woman, and admired her determination to fight for herself and her child. Most of the other women had been withdrawn from the walls once Hesse had encircled the town, and his sni
pers proved that the walls were well within the range of his new American riffles.

  Lotti showed them into a pleasant room with five chairs arranged in front of a fireplace. Two of the chairs were occupied by their hostess, Frau Benedicte, and her sister, Irmgard, whom Melchior vaguely recognized as the woman in charge of the hospital set up in one of the Stift's buildings. Turning from greeting their hostess and finding Lotti sitting in the fifth chair made Melchior raise his eyebrows.

  “Please sit down General von Hatzfeldt.” Lotti looked both tense and amused. “And you too, Commander Wickradt. I have something to say of importance to the defense of Bonn.”

  Melchior gave a brief bow, and sat down in the chair beside her.

  “Actually it’s more in the nature of a proposal,” Lotti continued. “Will you marry me, General?”