“Has Hesse found out anything about Wolfgang’s widow and the baby?”
“Not much. The birth of a boy to Katharina Charlotte von Zweibrücken has been recorded in Bonn, signed and verified. But no one appears to have seen either the child or his mother, and judging from the way Archbishop Ferdinand has been searching all over for her lately, I’d say she didn’t stay there willingly. If in fact she ever was there at all.”
Elisabeth, on the other hand, was showing signs of developing some really capable political acumen. Amalie remembered the young Litsa as being rather shy in social situations, but so far she seemed to be handling her hostess duties just fine and with an obvious interest in the people she was meeting that was rather charming. Her observations the other morning had also been quite interesting, and if those promises came through, then the choice of a husband for her had to be much more carefully made.
“Oh.” Hedwig raised an eyebrow.
“I first thought the archbishop somehow knew that Charlotte had died.” Amalie turned her full attention back to Hedwig. “Charlotte has had several miscarriages, and another one could have killed her. Since only the archbishop’s people were supposed to have been present at the birth, he could then have picked any newborn boy and claimed that it was Wolfgang’s heir. But that doesn’t fit with his behavior.” Amalie kept her face smiling, but let a little of her anger and frustration come out in her voice. “I simply haven’t got enough information.”
“Do you intend to join your husband once you’ve given birth?” Hedwig unfolded her fan and started moving it slowly.
“No.” Amalie unfolded her own fan. The excessive use of candles showed off the gild and mirrors in the most lavish fashion, but it also made the temperature rise fairly quickly. That the campaign to take Cologne was going so badly upset her more than such setbacks usually did. “I rather expect that Hesse is already in control of both Cologne and Bonn, and I plan to stay here to see that we keep them.”
Chapter 25
Bonn, Eigenhause House
October 11, 1634
“Good morning, Charlotte.” Frau Benedicte greeted Charlotte with a smile, but looked a bit surprised to see her in the old, rough dress from her disguise as Lotti. “I believe your husband has gone to his meeting with Hesse.”
“Good morning, Frau Benedicte. And yes, we had a lovely breakfast in the privacy of the big room you have given us.” Charlotte walked to the chair by the window where she used to do the fine needlework and repairs for the Eigenhause households. “General … My husband sends his apology for not taking leave of you in person, but I’m afraid we lost track of the time, so he had to leave in a hurry.” Charlotte felt the color rise in her cheeks and bent down to put little Phillip in the American-style play-pen. Old man Steinfeld had build it for her after a drawing in Simplississimus in return for the gout-remedy she had cooked for him after what she remembered of her aunt’s recipe. The play-pen had been quite a topic of interest for the female visitors to Frau Benedicte’s parlor.
“Good.” Charlotte could hear the smile in Frau Benedicte’s voice. “And not to pry—but you did first meet your new husband while part of my household, however irregular the circumstances—so how was your wedding night?”
Charlotte looked up from fussing over Phillip, and couldn’t help answering the older woman’s grin with one of her own. “Surprisingly fun, actually.” She sat down and took up the stomacher with the ripped embroidery she had begun mending.
“There’s no need for you to keep working, my dear.”
“Perhaps not, but I’m afraid I’ve lost the skill of idling gracefully, and I cannot imagine my new husband having any use for an idle wife anyway.” Charlotte found her needles and the yarn she wanted from the basket beneath the chair. “Once we know how the situation with Hesse turns out, we’ll need to sit down and make plans. But Frau Benedicte …”
Charlotte hesitated. She didn’t really feel comfortable discussing her private life with anyone, but the older woman was the best source she had for information about her new husband, and he really wasn’t quite what she had imagined. “Was my husband very humorous as a child? I mean … Despite his kindness he really seemed quite stern and somber. Only he isn’t. And I was wondering if there had been some kind of big grief to change him, or if it was his life as a soldier?”
“Nobody gets through life without a certain amount of grief, and despite his fighting skills—and the fortune he has earned—I never quite understood why someone as idealistic as Melchior would choose to become a mercenary.”
Frau Benedicte shrugged. “I know of nothing specific to have changed him.” She leaned back in her chair. “All Sebastian von Hatzfeldt’s children enjoyed having fun. Sure, they also had deep interests in religion and philosophy, but things like music, art and beauty also played very large parts in their life. Sebastian didn’t have the means to anything like a court-life, but he had close ties to the Archbishop of Mainz and wherever he travelled on the archbishop’s behalf, he nearly always took along a gaggle of kids. Not just his own children and wards, but also any youngster he had just taken into his household. His third wife Margaretha definitely didn’t approve, which reminds me: you better watch out for her when the two of you meet. Your rank might save you from any open actions, but she’s a greedy, selfish back-biter, and you absolutely cannot trust her.” Frau Benedicte grinned. “And no, I don’t like her.”
“What about the rest of the family. Are they close?”
“I think so. Melchior’s cousin, Dame Anna, lives here in Bonn, and since she is a close friend of Irmgard, I also see her from time to time. Her brother, Wolf, is Melchior’s second-in-command, and like nearly all the Wildenburger-Hatzfeldts he is quite wild and something of a rascal. You’ll probably like Anna, though, and also Melchior’s siblings. Now, let’s see what I remember. Heinrich, the oldest, was a very musical boy, who is now a canon in Mainz. He has recently become involved in some very interesting trading ventures—all Sebastian’s children have a strong sense of the practical—and I think it might be worth it for you to discuss them with him. You’ll need money to repair the war damage to your lands.”
Charlotte nodded.
“Then came Melchior, and then Franz. Franz I remember as a quite ambitions little boy, very kind to those younger than himself, but also always trying to compete with the older boys. He was very fond of color and beauty, and always spending his pocket-money on pretty trinkets rather than sweets at the fairs.”
“Was Melchior fond of sweets?”
“Yes, and honeyed figs was his favorite, but you better not serve those for him. He got stung in the mouth by a wasp, while eating one at a Michael’s Mass fair. He had a very bad time of it, and I don’t remember seeing him eating one after that. Why are you smiling like that, my dear?”
Charlotte looked down but couldn’t keep her mouth from smiling. “Melchior had somehow found a small box of candied fruits and chestnuts from France that he gave to me last night. We shared the entire box. Eh … Do you have any idea where I could find another?”
“Certainly, and I get one for you before tonight. But back to the Hatzfeldts. Hermann is the youngest brother still alive, but I seem to remember a fifth brother, who died quite young. I don’t remember his name, but I think he died in an accident. Hermann followed Melchior into the armies, but his talents were not for strategy and fighting, but rather for organizing and negotiations, so he always ended up as a quartermaster, or otherwise in charge of supply. He married a young heiress of the Dalberg family this summer—I don’t remember her name but everybody calls her Trinket, and she is supposed to be more than usually fond of finery and opulence. Hermann is supposed to take charge of the family’s investments and estates, and is already getting a good name as a competent man when it comes to business.” Frau Benedicte hesitated. “He could be of a lot of help to you, but I know many of his major deals and investments involve Essen, so you might prefer not to.”
“I didn’t par
ticularly like DeGeer the few times I met him, and I would much prefer Essen to withdraw from Düsseldorf, but Wolfgang’s attack on them was to the best of my knowledge without provocation.” Charlotte shrugged. “I certainly don’t intend to let any deals with Essen get in the way of a cordial relationship with my husband’s family.” She stopped and looked towards the window. “It’s odd, really, but Melchior already feels so much more like my husband than Wolfgang ever did. I DO want him with me, whether I go back to Jülich or not. Do you think I ought to go to the wall?”
“No, my dear. Not until we are certain that Hesse is informed that you’ll be there. And not to the hospital either; you need to be where a message from Melchior is sure to find you.”
“Melchior said that they were hiding the entire town beneath my skirts.”
“Did he seem to mind?”
“No, he said …” Charlotte stopped and grinned. “Never mind, but it didn’t seem to hurt his dignity a bit.”
“I see. Well, the Hatzfeldt brothers also have a little sister, Lucie. She suffered a carriage accident some time after her marriage to one of Melchior’s colleagues, and now walks with a cane. I believe she has spent most of the past decade or so bringing up her husband’s illegitimate children, and has brought them with her to Cologne. Her mother died of a fever a few weeks after Lucie’s birth, and I remember her brothers—and especially Melchior—being very protective of their little sister. I know of nothing to her demerit, and making her your friend could be a good idea if you want to keep a connection to your husband’s family.”
“I do. But doesn’t Lucie have any children of her own? The accident must have been many years ago.”
“No. Irmgard once mentioned in passing that Lucie had been pregnant at the accident, and some inner organs had been removed. That is a very dangerous operation. And I believe that the person involved later got into quite a lot of trouble with the church in Cologne. Not burned, but …”
“I see. There was an old midwife in Jülich, but Wolfgang sent her away, and insisted I should be attended only by an Italian doctor. I wish I’d had Irmgard.”
“The boundaries between midwife, wise woman, and witch sometimes get a little blurred in men’s minds.”
“Didn’t Lucie’s husband mind that she couldn’t give him an heir? Wolfgang would have been furious.”
“I don’t know, my dear. I don’t really know the family that well. Aside from Irmgard’s friendship with Dame Anna, the only reason I know more that common gossip is the deals my own father had with two of your first husband’s Amtmen: Johann Wilhelm of the Weisweiler-Hatzfeldt line and Hermann of the Schönstein-Hatzfeldt line. They both died before you came north, but you might have at least heard of their heirs. Melchior’s stepmother is actually one of them from her first marriage, and she has managed to completely tyrannize her children and stash them away, so that she can rule everything. Fortunately for you most of the estates in Jülich went to old Sebastian’s ward, Johan Adrian von Werther-Hatzfeldt, and to Johann Wilhelm von Weisweiler-Hatzfeldt, whose widow Adolpha von Cortenbach now runs them for her minor sons.”
“I think I’ve met Adolpha, and I’m sure Wolfgang had a quarrel of some kind with a young man named Johan Adrian von Hatzfeldt, who was a major landowner. Do you know his relationship to Melchior?”
“Their last common ancestor must be at least three generations back, but they grew up like brothers, so I’m pretty sure you can count on Adrian’s support.”
Charlotte leaned back in the chair, and smiled at her hostess. “Melchior said my bridal gift would have to wait, but it seems he has already given me a network of useful connections. You know this marriage really may have some quite unexpected side-benefits. ”
Bonn, the west wall
Climbing down a rope-ladder was not an elegant undertaking under any circumstances, and that the rain was pouring down again didn’t make it easier. Still, this was the time agreed upon for a face-to-face meeting under truce between Melchior and Duke Wilhelm of Hessen-Kassel. Melchior had postponed the meeting for as long as he could, using two of the wounded Hessians in the toll-tower as messengers, but two days ago Hesse had started the cannonade for real, and as he targeted not just the walls but also the town behind them, the death-toll was rapidly increasing.
In the tent on top of the river cliff Hesse remained seated, and no chair was offered to Melchior. “Bonn will surrender now, or I will reduce it to rubble. Go get the gates open, there is no way you can win.” The duke looked irritated and in Melchior’s opinion also a lot more worried than he wanted anyone to see.
“No. A tribute is acceptable. In fact, you are welcome to the entire content of the archbishop’s palace. I don’t like the man either. But the gates of Bonn remains closed as long as you have any significant force near the town, and you cannot afford the time it’ll take you to take the town by force.” Melchior smiled. “Now stop trying to bully me, offer me a chair, and let us talk. I do think we can reach an agreement.”
Hesse gazed for a while into Melchior’s eyes, sighed and waved at one of his men to bring in a chair. “General von Hatzfeldt, if you are expecting anything from that little wet-behind-the-ears Friedrich von Zweibrücken, forget it. No one in Magdeburg will be willing to listen to a boy.”
Melchior shrugged. “I don’t know how high in the USE your campaign here is known and supported, but it is in the best interest of the USE to have Cologne join willingly. Also, as an American, Prime Minister Stearns will be especially in favor of that solution. And by now he already know the situation, and will be discussing it with Gustavus Adolphus. If you want to get anything from Cologne, even some trade agreements or a tribute, you cannot afford to spend any time and force here at Bonn.”
“There is no way even the fastest courier could have reached Magdeburg, much less brought back an answer before I closed the roads.”
“No, but you are forgetting the American way of getting news moving fast by radio. I had a reply from Mainz this morning. The requests from both Bonn and Cologne for inclusion in the USE are known and being discussed in Magdeburg. I do not know if your Emperor has already sent orders for you to stop your campaign, but I am quite certain he will do so once he gets the latest news even now traveling for Mainz.”
Melchior smiled again. “You may congratulate me, Duke Wilhelm. Yesterday, your emperor’s young relative, Countess Palatine Charlotte von Zweibrücken, widow of Jülich-Berg, became my wife, and she will insist on fighting beside me on the walls of Bonn in the American fashion.” Melchior hesitated and frowned a little. “I do not quite approve of this, but she insisted that it should be a part of our marriage agreement. And Gustavus Adolphus will also know that you were told of this today.”
Hesse gave no answer, so Melchior continued, “Now. The archbishop took his strongbox with him, and whoever takes charge of the town’s administration is going to need the archives, but the palace contains ...”
Chapter 26
Bavaria, south of Ingolstadt
October 15, 1634
“So, what do you think of our latest recruit?” Rosy was barely visible in the moonlight as he passed the bread and bottles he was carrying on to Simon and Lenz, and squatted down beneath the big fir sheltering most of Pettenburg’s specialists.
“I think the Wolf might have bitten off more than he can chew, but she sure looks good in trousers.” Lenz popped the seal on the bottle, and looked towards the colonel’s part of the camp from where a very loud and definitely female voice could be heard despite the order for a silent as well as dark camp. Madeleine had proven an excellent rider, but she definitely didn’t like being denied a hot bath at the end of a day’s hard riding. The previous evenings Wolf—or rather Simon—had managed to find farmhouses, where his “Mylady” could have her bath, and Madeleine had actually been extremely good at keep track of his excuses for why she wasn’t at the local manor house or at least in the finest inn. Tonight, however, they were passing very close to where the Bavarian army
lead by Duke Maximilian was gathered across from Ingolstadt, and to escape a confrontation Wolf had ordered the regiments to continue well past sunset and only make a brief cold camp to rest the horses before continuing. Simon totally approved, and none of the men did more than grumble, but Madeleine made her displeasure very loudly heard, and Simon had sought refuge with his men instead of staying with the other officers.
“Where’s Allenberg?” Simon took a swallow of the wine to wash down the rough bread before passing the bottle on to Schaden.
“He came back from the stream when I passed, but didn’t want to join us. He’s probably going to doss down on his own somewhere near the colonels—he usually did that on the Pisek campaign.” Rosy was cutting slices of the sausage he had brought and passing them around.
“Thenk he’s looken for promotion or just a lil’ extra business w’ his papers?” Simon had never managed to identify Niederthal’s odd twangy accent, but in a mercenary army you just didn’t inquire into people’s background unless they started volunteering information, and Niederthal had said less about his than anybody else.
“I think he’s one of those nuuks.” Schaden’s broad Swabian accent could be difficult to understand, but this time it was his words that nearly made Simon choke on the wine he had been about to swallow.
“Please don’t waste the wine, honored leader. It’s the last of the good bottles from Passau.” Rosy leaned over to slap Simon on the back. “Why do you think that, Schaden?”
“Ever seen his pecker?”
“No, but he could just be shy. Or perhaps have a small one.” Rosy’s white even teeth flashed in a grin.
“He also never gets a beard-shadow, even when everybody else looks shaggy.” Lenz said. “There lived an Italian castrate singer in our street, when I was a child. My uncle was his barber and wig-maker, and he told me that he never had to shave the castrate.”
“That’s not enough reason to say something like that about a man.” Simon had regained his breath, and decided to insert a little reason into the discussion before it really went wild. “My own beard is so sparse that I’ve given up growing a mustachio, and Rosy can pass for a woman all day, if he shaves closely in the morning.”
1635- the Wars for the Rhine (ARC) Page 19
