by Eric Flint
Then the soldiers came running and delivered the ordered goods.
* * *
Half an hour later the gate opened again.
“Wanna see her?” Denyse asked.
Peter stormed into the box.
Anna was sitting on a saddle blanket with a big grin on her face, Marie was huddled to her, smiling and caressing a small bundle in her arms. When she saw Peter she rose and approached him.
“What’s her name, Dad?” she asked when she handed him the bundle.
Peter looked into the tiny red face of his daughter.
Before he could speak he had to clear his throat. And again.
“We wanted to call her Barbara. But I think I’ve got a better name for her.” He paused and looked into his wife’s eyes.
“I think we should call her Hoffnung.”
Author’s Notes:
When the law enforcement authorities in Hannover arrested Jasper (or Jaspar, the north German spelling of Caspar) Hanebuth—born in 1608 in Groß-Buchholz near Hannover, son of a rich farmer, Swedish mercenary, and a horse trader by profession—and questioned him on November 30, 1652, to be charged for stealing horses in Medefeld, they got no testimony from him. As it was custom they contacted the law faculty at the university and the professionals there agreed that a “peinliche Befragung” was appropriate, since several witnesses swore they recognized him.
On December 16 they started. First they showed him the tools of torture and questioned him again, but he still swore he had bought the concerned animals from some unknown men.
The torturer then dressed him in “Spanish boots” and he soon started to whine and cry for mercy. The judges who took his confession were rather astonished when he not only admitted having stolen the horses in question, but also started to confess one murder after the other. Finally they had a list of nineteen murders and ten horse thefts, which most likely was only the tip of the iceberg.
One of his victims was his long-standing “Räuberbraut” (robber’s bride) Marie whom he had captured in 1632 near Ingolstadt and who afterwards fell in love with him and took part in several of his crimes. He shot her because he suspected her to be pregnant from one of his buddies.
His passion of singing hymns while killing is also documented in the court papers. “Greif an das Werk mit Freuden, wozu mich Gott bescheiden in meinem Amt und Stand” seemed to be his favorite.
Since he had committed these murders during the Thirty Years’ War, the judges in Hannover were not able to verify his confessions. But nevertheless after long hither and tither when he revoked his confession and then confessed again he was executed by the wheel on February 4, 1653.
It was a very common mode of execution at that time. The delinquent was first hit with heavy clubs or even with a wagon wheel. After his bones were broken they either delivered a coup de grace by gently removing his head with a sword or (for bad crimes) bound his now flexible body to a wheel and let him simply die.
The last execution in that style occurred in Prussia in 1841.
The court papers of Jasper Hanebuth’s trial still exist in Hannover; the town has even named a street after him—no comment.
* * *
Mass murderers appeared after the Thirty Years’ War, hence my notice of PTSD. Melchior Hedloff, called Schütze-Melcher from Breslau, was also questioned in the year 1653, and confessed two hundred and fifty-one murders—what a memory.
* * *
All events in this story up to the battle at Rain am Lech are historical. As well as shooting Gustav Adolph’s white horse near Ingolstadt, which is still on display there.
Peter Hagendorf’s diary was found by chance in the manuscript storage of the Prussian State Library in Berlin in the year 1993.
He had taken notes during the nineteen years of his mercenary life, which took him over fifteen thousand miles through Germany on foot, then bought a stack of paper in 1649 and wrote down all his memories.
The author was unknown at first, but Professor Jan Peters from Potsdam University could find the birth certificate of his later daughter Margaretha in the archive of the town Pappenheim, where his name was given.
A document from Mühlhausen, where Peter managed the supply of wounded soldiers in December, 1641, gave another proof.
Jan Peters’ book containing the complete transcript of the diary together with a “translation” into proofread German has the title “Ein Söldnerleben im Dreißigjährigen Krieg.” (A Mercenary’s Life in the Thirty Years’ War). It was republished in 2012. The citations up to the Battle of the Alte Veste (excluding Julie Sims’ role in the Battle at the Lech) are taken from this book.
The diary is the source for several master theses in Germany; the one which thoroughly explains the text is available as a download in German.
The diary is also the source for one episode of the TV-mini-series “Der Dreißigjährige Krieg” by Bavarian Television and a third of an episode (14:00-30:00) of “Wir Europäer.”
OTL Peter Hagendorf was not ordered to Nuremberg. He stayed within Bavaria, marching from town to town, and waiting for something to happen.
Anna Stadlerin from Traunstein, Upper Bavaria, bore four children, and died in 1633 together with the last of them in Munich.
In 1635, Peter married Anna Buchlerin: they had six children; only two of them lived until their adulthood.
After the end of the Thirty Years’ War Peter settled in Memmingen, and could apparently not manage to get back into his prior civilian life (he perhaps had been a miller before) but stayed mercenary, soldier and watchman. And it seems he had developed alcoholism, since he wrote down several bad accidents at that time wounding him.
* * *
As for the naming of the units: The Germans called a unit from several combined companies a “Gewalthaufen” (force heap). Then the French term “bataille” (battle) came into use, later changed to “bataillon” (battalion) and in the late seventeenth century institutionalized as a defined part of a regiment.
But in the Thirty Years’ War the companies were combined by temporary orders, the French term being “ordonnance” (German Ordonnanz, English ordinance). Several different ordinances were used, the best-known being the Spanish Ordinance, also called Catholic or Burgundy Ordinance on the HRE side and the Dutch or Swedish Ordinance on the other.
Within the Spanish Ordinance the troops were grouped as “Gevierthaufen” (pike square, also see illustration of the battle at Breitenfeld), these had the Spanish name “tercio,” which is used within the 1632 series.
Gold Fever
Herbert Sakalaucks
Outside Odense, Denmark, March 1636
Gold! Gold! Gold
Gold Fields Discovered in Newfoundland!
Free land for prospectors.
Guaranteed by the Crown.
Limitless wealth for simple work.
Ships sail monthly from Copenhagen
Special rates for families.
Hudson Bay Company
“See here Marta! It says that there are fields of gold for the taking. We won’t have to spend our lives working day and night to put food on the table. A new land, free land, and no landlords.” Lars was beaming, a faraway look in his eyes.
Marta gently took the flyer from her husband’s grasp. She’d seen this look before; when they’d left Stockholm to work the fishing boat, right after they were married. Later in Gdansk, when the bill collectors were hounding them and Lars had chosen to flee rather than face prison. Again and again, the dream of fast wealth or an easy job had driven Lars to look to the next town. She studied the flyer. It was printed on fine paper and the print was much sharper than normally appeared on flyers. It did say that the king was guaranteeing it, so it must be true. Better to bow to the inevitable now than delay and put up with Lars’ whining and still have to give in later. Lars had no experience as a miner, but he learned new jobs quickly. She gave a silent snort. He’d had a lot of experience in that area. There was nothing holding them here. They’d rent
ed the farm when the previous tenant died. Now it was nearly as dead as he’d been. They were always a little behind on their rent. Money was tight but they could sell the three cows. The fine print listed the cost for passage and the sale should bring enough to pay the passage for a family of five, if the flyer was true. The ship pictured looked sturdy enough and should provide a safe passage. “If you think we should, I’ll go. I’m sure the children can adjust to the new land. There’s not much here for them.”
Lars swept her off her feet. “No man was ever as blessed with as good a wife as you! I’ll start packing in the morning.”
Marta started to ask why wait until the morning when she noticed the gleam in Lars’ eyes. Ah well, he always seems to be inspired by change. A wife could do much worse, and when he’s good, he’s really good. She fought back a giggle as he led her by her hand to the bedroom.
South of Baie Verte, Newfoundland
Late September 1636
Marta added a dash of salt and flour to the deer steaks cooking over the open hearth fire. The fieldstone and cast-iron grill made for a tasty flavor for the meat, as long as the weather was dry. Dinners were cold when it rained. The rhythmic sounds of chopping near the stream just served to emphasize the worries that had been building over the past weeks. They had arrived at the gold field in June and had staked out a claim along a stream some miles south of the Company’s land. Calling it a gold field had taken some imagination on the part of someone. When they’d landed in Thomasville, they’d bought supplies at a store that proclaimed that it could give them the secrets to finding gold, along with the tools. When they were done paying for the tools, the owner gave Lars a two minute lesson on how to work streams for gold. That was it. Fields of gold were never mentioned. Still, Lars had been certain this would be a perfect site for them to work. He set up operations, along with their two boys, and had built a rough sluice box the second day there. He’d found some color almost immediately. Housing had followed slowly, as discovering gold had driven out all other concerns. Two canvas tents had served until the trees started to change color. The color had also started to decrease in the sluice at about the same time, but Lars was certain that they were close to a big strike. That was when Marta insisted that Lars finish building a cabin before the cold weather set in. The sound of a tree falling pulled Marta back to her cooking. The steaks were in need of turning so she speared them with a knife and flipped them. Anna was playing with some pine cones by the tent flap, so Marta yelled, “Dinner will be ready soon. Go tell Papa and the boys to come and clean up. The steaks should be ready by the time they get here.” Anna set two more pine cones on her pile and then skipped off to pass on her mother’s message.
Marta studied the meat, trying to gauge just the right time to remove them from the flames. Lars liked his meat well done, but not burnt. The open flames were notoriously fickle, the fat helping to speed up the cooking. Sounds of Anna’s return helped settle the decision. Marta skewered the steaks and piled them on the waiting platter. As Anna approached, Marta shooed her ahead to hold back the door flap. The rough-built table and benches were centered in the large room. Overhead, the canvas roof hung limp against the rafters. “I do hope they can get the cross pieces cut and raised tomorrow. I’m tired of living under a leaky roof. The weather’s held too good for too long. One of these days our luck is going to run out. Snow is not too far off.”
Just then, the door flap flew back and Michel and Augustus raced in. “I won!” Michel crowed. “You get to clean up tonight.”
Augustus gave him a shove. “Not fair! You pushed me.” He turned to his mother, “Tell him it’s not fair.”
Marta surveyed the two, panting boys. “I seem to recall neither one of you cleaned up last night. So tonight you both wash up and scrub the grill too.”
Off to the side, Lars gave a shrug before either boy could appeal. “You heard your mother. Now sit down and behave.”
After the grace was said, Marta asked between bites, “How did it go today?”
Lars paused a moment to swallow first. “We’ve got all but two of the trees cut down along the stream edge. We’ll cut those in the morning and then start splitting them for roof poles. Once we get the roof finished, the boys and I will head for the trading post to get our winter supplies.”
Marta gave him a jaundiced stare. “I hope the gold you’ve found is enough. It could be a very lean winter if you don’t get the price you’re counting on. We definitely haven’t struck it rich like you said we would.”
“I’m sure we’re close to the big one. Once we get these trees cleared, we should be able to sluice out the old stream bed. I’ve got a good feeling about it.” He reached across and jabbed the last steak and started to lift it. Michel stared at it. Auggie was a little more circumspect in his appeal, but both boys were definitely still hungry. Feeling guilty, Lars plopped it back on the platter, cut it in two, and gave each boy a piece. “Growing boys need their food. Make sure you wipe up the juices with your mother’s bread.”
Later, after the children were asleep, and as they were lying there, sweat stained from their exertions, Marta asked softly, “Do you really think you’re close to a strike? If we can’t get at least the minimum supplies we’ve discussed, I’m scared that we could starve if the winter lasts too long.” She’d finally managed to voice the fears that had been haunting her dreams.
Lars turned to face her, “I promise, if we can’t get enough supplies for the gold we have, I know we have enough gold to buy passage back to Thomasville. I can always get a job there in the foundry to keep us fed. Now go to sleep and quit worrying.” He gave her the grin that always managed to bring a smile to her face, even when she was mad at him. She sighed and pulled her nightcap down firmly. He gave her a quick peck on the check and rolled over on his side. In moments he was snoring, the long day’s work exacting its toll. Marta stared up at the canvas roof, praying he was right.
The next morning dawned cloudy and windy. After rekindling the cook fire, Marta checked the hens for eggs and then started making breakfast. As Lars and the boys wolfed down the meal, she pointed toward the sky, “I think the weather is finally changing. Getting those roof poles done can’t come any too soon.” Lars nodded and then wiped his plate clean. All three males hurried out, to avoid listening to Marta going on about the roof.
As soon as breakfast was over and the dishes cleaned, Marta went to the small stores shed to bring back a canister of flour. A gust of wind nearly bowled her over as she approached the shed. A quick glance back showed that the cabin’s roof canvas was still in place. That would be all we need with weather coming. She needed to concentrate on baking today. The men had finished the last of the bread for breakfast. If the weather was going to turn, she needed to get some loaves made before the rains came. Anna helped her get the bowls and utensils out and add the ingredients as she’d been taught. As Marta was kneading the dough, the steady sounds of chopping axes ceased, but instead of the expected loud tree crash, she heard a shrill scream. She tossed the dough into a bowl. Even an emergency could wait for a second to save the precious food. As she threw the door flap back, she could see Augustus running as hard as he could back from the stream.
As he spotted her, he screamed, “It’s Papa! The tree split and landed on him. Michel and I tried, but we couldn’t get it off him. Please hurry, it looks bad!” He grabbed his mother’s arm and tried to pull her faster. He had blood on his hands.
She shook him off. “Let me get cloths for a dressing. If it’s as bad as you say, we’ll need them.” Sprinting back inside, she grabbed a nightshirt off the bed. When she got back outside, Augustus was frantically bouncing up and down, his fists clenched.
“Hurry, hurry, Michel said he might die!” The tears were rolling down his checks as he ran back.
When they reached the clearing, Marta stopped dead in her tracks. If anything, it was worse than Augustus had described. The tree limb had indeed split, but it appeared that Lars had tried to push off
with his axe as it fell toward him and the axe had struck him as well. The front of his shirt was drenched in blood and the limb had him pinned to the ground. Michel was trying to roll the limb off, but the branches were keeping it in place. Marta looked around, frantic for inspiration. She spotted the previous day’s work pile, with the cleared branches. “Auggie, bring me two large branches. We’ll use them as levers.”
She knelt next to Lars. His eyes were open and he tried to speak. “Just plain stupid luck,” he managed to whisper. “Wind gust struck as the tree started to fall and split it. The boys were right in its path, so I tried to push it aside. The other tree twisted it and it came back on me instead. Looks like the roof might have to wait a day or two.” He coughed from the exertion and blood came to his lips.
Marta fought back the tears. “You hush now! The roof can wait. I love you. Don’t you dare leave me!” She was terrified. He spasmed in her arms and went limp. She realized their dream was gone. “Lars, why did we have to come here? No gold is worth your life.” She broke down and wept uncontrollably.
The boys came up, branches in hand. Michel realized what had happened and dropped his branch to hug his mother. Augustus stared down, trying to wish his father awake. When it finally struck him that his father was dead, Auggie slumped to his knees, crying softly. After what seemed an eternity, Marta gave a shuddering sob and braced herself, “We have to get the tree off him. Help me with these branches, boys.” They needed to do something and this was the best she could come up with. Rolling some stones near the limb, the boys stuck their branches under the limb and pushed down. The limb rose slightly, and Marta was able to drag Lars’ body out from under. Straightening the body, she took Michel and Auggie by their shoulders, “Go see to your sister. Don’t tell her what happened. I’ll be there in a minute.” She used the nightshirt to wipe the blood from Lars’ mouth. Shock was setting in and she needed to be strong for the children. Looking at the body of her husband she asked, “What do I do now? You always were the one with a plan. Now you’ve gone and left us in the wilderness with no house and winter coming.” Even in death, he had a slight smile.