Peter Hagendorf could only nod, sighing. The fugitive they were following from Kassel south—they had at least verified that they were on his track—was constantly increasing his lead. He had switched horses here one day earlier.
Gianbaptista Zenno, the man they were pursuing, was an astrologer by trade, but now obviously working as spymaster. For whom was not clear, but the direction he was going supported the suspicion that he was on his way to Darmstadt. That would suggest the landgravine's assumption that he was working for Georg II, former landgrave of Hesse-Darmstadt and the fiercest opponent of the house of Hesse-Kassel, was valid.
"Well," Peter said, "what shall we do now?"
"Contact the landgravine," Clott answered. "Inform her about what is happening and ask for new instructions."
Having met Friedrich Hauschild in Kassel, Peter hadn't held the Hessian Hunters in high esteem. However, he'd revised his opinion quickly after he had left Kassel in the company of what amounted to a platoon of them.
For once their green attire, which had looked pretentious when Hauschild wore it on police duty, was extremely reasonable as they advanced through the thick forest of the lower county of Hesse. Even with the fading canopy of leaves, now that autumn was about to turn into winter, the color let them blend into their surroundings very well. The large-meshed camouflage nets now sitting rolled up behind their saddles could add another level of stealth.
And their equipment basically left him drooling. Their leader had a hand-held "CB" radio, which didn't have a long range, but they were followed by another detachment with a larger one. So Clott's reconnaissance unit could move quickly without being seen or losing contact with their colonel back in Kassel.
This troop, founded by the late landgrave in the year 1631, was vastly different from all Peter had come to know during his time as a mercenary and later in Grantville's mounted constabulary. Most of the members were experienced hunters or foresters from Hesse, their weapons of choice rifled guns and large knives. They couldn't stand against a company of infantry or cavalry in an open battle, but they could severely hurt an army's support trail from ambush. Not the most honorable kind of warfare, but Peter had seen enough comrades die at Breitenfeld fighting a futile honorable battle. At that time, he had been on the wrong side when the Swedes' cannon balls had mown down the soldiers to his left and right. Half a year later he had seen what one sharpshooter could do in Rain am Lech, when Julie Sims had single-handedly killed half the skirmisher unit Peter had served in.
The USE Army couldn't outfit all their infantry with that kind of rifle at the moment, and in an open battle, gunsmoke quickly made shooting over a long distance impossible, but the Hessian Hunters wouldn't be deployed in battles. Reconnaissance was their main duty, fighting against bandits, or stopping small enemy units.
While Peter still was still thinking his own thoughts, they had reached tonight’s destination. A small hill next to Rauschenberg gave them a line of sight to the radio unit three miles or so behind them.
Clott didn't have to say more than "Dismount, make camp," and the men worked like a well-maintained car engine.
****
Darmstadt, Former Capital of the Landgraviate of Hesse-Darmstadt
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Georg von Hessen-Darmstadt exclaimed. "Why now, just when my plans are just starting to come together?"
Gianbaptista Zenno read the papers the landgrave had thrown into his lap. Under the seal of strict confidentiality, Georg was invited to attend a meeting in Berlin to "discuss the future of Europe."
Most of the letter was phrased in utter legalese, but the sender certainly suggested the foundation of an interim parliament of concerned citizens of the USE while "the government in Magdeburg is not able to fulfill its constitutional duties due to the temporary loss of its head of state."
Gianbaptista shook his head. Why the government should be paralyzed only because the Swede lay unconscious escaped his understanding. The invitation pointed out how long the issue of an established church within the USE had been under discussion—and was still not decided.
But while he was still trying to see reason, and doubted there was any, the invitation had certainly hit home with Georg's desire for orderly rule. If the Swedish chancellor Oxenstierna—and Gianbaptista was convinced that no other was behind that scheme—wanted to set up the Corpus Evangelicorum in the USE, he'd just pushed at the landgrave's gaping door.
"I need to travel to Berlin immediately," Georg said, pacing the room. "I need to lead my troops into Kassel immediately as well. What shall I do?"
Well, those two tasks didn't go together well.
"Can I trust my generals to fulfill their orders?" Georg ranted on. "Can I trust my bureaucrats to correctly phrase my opinions in that convention?"
Gianbaptista cleared his throat. "If Your Grace would allow me to advise …" Georg stopped and stared. Then he nodded in the Italian's direction.
"The stars are favorably disposed towards you and your plans concerning Hesse-Kassel. I can't yet see what will come of this new development in Berlin, but …"
"You're right!" Georg interrupted him. "I can trust that everything goes well in northern Hesse."
That was not at all what Gianbaptista had wanted to say.
"But my personal charisma will be absolutely necessary to steer that USE cart out of the mud it has been led into by those … republicans." He spat out the last word as if it had singed his tongue.
Gianbaptista's mind worked at top speed. He needed to stay clear of the mess an attempted counter-revolution in Berlin might turn into. Nobody, not even an experienced astrologer like him, could foresee how that American "prince," whose birthdate lay in the far future, might react to that, now that he commanded a whole well-armed division of ten thousand devoted warriors who didn't hesitate to kill even their peers on his word.
"So you will travel to Berlin in person, Your Grace? What about sending a confidant to advise the troops in the north of your will?" Andreas Wulff might be a good choice for that. He was a very clever politician, and not inexperienced in warfare either.
Georg stared again. "You're right," he said. "You will do that."
Me!?! On a battlefield? What the …
****
Kassel, Capital of the Province of Hesse-Kassel
"Well," Amalie said smiling, "at least we're on the same track with this one subject. Aren't we?"
Ten men, aged between fifty and seventy, nodded, some of them eager, some of them thoughtful, but none of them had any further objection at the moment.
Christine sat in a corner of the room, following Amalie's staff meeting without interfering. Not yet at least.
"In accordance with this decision, Herr Doktor Deinhard," Amalie continued, addressing the vice chancellor of her council of advisers. "Would you please supervise the creation and distribution of these questionnaires to all Ämter? Inform me of the state of affairs in—let's say—one week from now."
Deinhard nodded, and made some notes on a sheet of paper.
Christine was full of awe about her niece-in-law's management skills. When Johann Ernst talked that way to his government, it came from decades of ruling experience. Amalie was a young woman thrown into the deep end, and she was managing to keep her head above the water very well.
"The next matter, gentlemen," Amalie continued, "I want to bring to your attention is some disturbing news we have collected over the last week. Some of you might have heard parts of it, but I want you all to have first-hand information now, and afterward tell us about your conclusions."
She turned to Christine. "Would you please … ?"
"Of course." Christine rose and approached the large meeting table Amalie's council had gathered around. She laid down some sheets of paper, and in that moment really wanted to have reading glasses like Johann did to play with. It was always difficult to find a good way to start.
"One week ago," she then said without introduction, "I was visited during my sleep by a man who carried a
plague-infested rat in a sealed bag, and obviously wanted to …"
If those men were affronted by the extreme number of females—two to be exact—attending and even presiding over a meeting, which was male in nature, they hid it well. Christine had heard that several of them had vented their displeasures of serving a female regent. On the other hand, Wilhelm had selected them in his last will, with the outspoken intention to support his widow. He had never considered anyone else in her place. So they might be suspicious, but they were at least cooperative.
"… and eventually, we secured a number of radio messages addressed to Zenno, which were signed 'GLGHD'. I leave the conclusion to you who the sender was."
Christine's last statement was received with silence. The men looked at each other; obviously none of them wanted to speak the accusation out loud.
Finally, Melchior von Lehrbach, president of the chamber, cleared his throat and rose. He had by now outlived two landgraves; his time with Wilhelm's father Moritz especially hadn't been easy for him. Christine still remembered how her brother had always resorted to giving commands instead of discussing the grave situation he had maneuvered the landgraviate into.
"We don't need to beat around the bush in that regard," von Lehrbach said in his deep and calm voice. "We all knew halfway through this presentation—and I think I speak for all of us when I thank you, Landgravine Christine, for this concise summary—whose money most likely is behind all these actions. Fortunately, his money is limited, and his power in Magdeburg restricted by the sheer number of delegates not supporting him."
He stroked his full beard. "But methinks we should take the current situation seriously. We should collect food from the Ämter in advance of the results from this questionnaire. If we don't experience an attack in the next weeks, we can return it or keep it as advance payment. The people in the villages will certainly understand it."
He sat down, frowning deeply.
"There is," Christine said, "one point in your very profound statement I need to comment on."
She took another sheet of paper. "Based on a hint from the regent I surveyed a number of current newspapers, and not the political ones, but rather the so-called tabloids."
The common, only partially suppressed, groan among the men on the table didn't come as a surprise.
Christine suppressed a chuckle. "As flat and dull as these news articles might be, they show an irritating trend. All over the provinces of the USE a large number of men from the lower nobility and the wealthy bourgeoisie, most of them known for their sympathy to the so-called hardliner faction among the Crown Loyalists, are reported to having left their respective homes."
The facial expressions around her suddenly changed from ostentatiously shown boredom to genuine interest.
Amalie used the silence to speak now. "The reasons they gave the journalists range from 'visiting my cousin twice removed' to 'inspecting newly purchased property'. Accidently, I know of at least two cases, where these statements are completely unbelievable." She nodded to Christine.
"I contacted," Christine continued, "some very good friends among their wives and heard that they all received a kind of invitation, delivered by a courier, to be kept 'strictly confidential.' "
Christine smiled. "Fortunately, this secrecy normally doesn't include their wives, so I could finally get two rather important pieces of information. For one: the invitation came from the bureau of the emperor, and was signed by a close confidant of the Swedish chancellor."
A surprised murmur made its round among the men.
"The other is the mention of Berlin as the destination of these short-noticed journeys. So, Your Excellency—" she nodded in the direction of von Lehrbach "—it might be that our presumed adversary can get more power in the future."
Now the murmur became louder.
"Your Highness—" von Lehrbach turned to Amalie "—have you asked the Prime Minister about those suspicions?"
"In fact, I did," Amalie said. "Judging from his partly cryptic answer, he seems to know something, but he's not the driving force, but basically, whatever might happen in Berlin or elsewhere, it is not our most pressing problem. We really need to prepare for a possible invasion. And at the moment, we don't have any troops to stop it in time."
"This, Your Highness," interjected Nicolaus Sixtinus, privy war councilor, "is perhaps not completely true."
****
A Forest near Eifa on the Northern Slope of the Vogelsberg
"You were right, Sergeant," Clott said appreciatively, lowering his binoculars. "They are using the Short Hessians."
The road below them was a part of the old trading route called the Via Regia from Frankfurt to Leipzig. In Hessen there were several parallel routes, two of them called the Long and Short Hessians. This one here was the shortest connection between Frankfurt and Eisenach, but also the most troublesome, containing a lot of sharp curves and slopes. Most merchants nowadays tried to reach the State of Thuringia-Franconia with its superior roads as quickly as possible, and used the southern road along the river Kinzig.
So the assumed invading army trying to stay undetected would use another, less populated road.
Peter, with his years of experience as a mercenary, ascribed to himself a better nose for strategy than to the hunters, who normally thought tactically only. And his nose had been correct.
There, down in the valley below them, several hundred foot soldiers made their way east, accompanied by what amounted to a small cavalry company. This wasn't the shortest route to Kassel, but it led through the part of the Province of Hesse-Kassel, which had belonged to Hesse-Darmstadt, and was completely inhabited by Lutherans. The Darmstadt troops could depend on the people to feed and shelter them.
"Uh-huh. What do you think?" Peter asked. "Three companies of infantry, one cavalry, no artillery?"
"If those are the only ones, which I doubt. I'd rather tell the colonel 'at least four companies.' "
Peter nodded, then froze. "And what is this? Flying artillery?"
Clott put his glasses back to his eyes and looked. His face showed a deep scowl. "I hope not."
In the middle of the convoy, surrounded by cavalry, four large wagons moved, drawn by teams of eight horses each. This number suggested that they were intended to travel fast if needed. Unfortunately, the wagons were covered with canvas.
"They're not high enough," Lieutenant Otto von Nassau chimed in. "If they don't have some mechanism to extend it, they'll kill their horses, when shooting straight ahead."
"You were at Ahrensbök, Lieutenant?" Peter asked.
"Sure that," was the answer. Von Nassau grinned. "Serving in the second division for half a year, then returning back home to fight Lutheran scum."
"Lieutenant!" Clott said reproachfully. "You know that the landgravine doesn't like the use of such terms, don't you?"
"Okay, so what should I call them, Herr Oberförster?" von Nassau retorted snidely.
Peter felt a little bored by this—um—length comparison. Sure, von Nassau was noble, and by military tradition that should make him the leader of that troop. On the other hand, the Hessian Hunters were selected according to their skills and not their birth. Senior Forester Clott didn't hold a noble title, but had been leading this company from the very beginning and had been a close confidant of the late landgrave.
Otto von Nassau was a pain in the ass, but he was a useful one with his experience in the USE Army. He was also the youngest brother, ninth of fourteen siblings, of Wilhelm Ludwig, count of Nassau-Saarbrücken, another Calvinist, and another staunch supporter of the new emperor of the USE. None of the American books mentioned Otto's name, which was a typical reason for feelings of inferiority among all the nobles sharing this fate.
"Herr von Nassau," Clott said, obviously restraining himself. "I can't tell you what to do and say when you're off-duty, and you are of course free to leave at any time, but as long as you are serving in my company, you'll refrain from such behavior. Is that understood?"
> Peter scrutinized von Nassau's face, saw contradicting emotions surface and disappear again, and then the young man seemed to cave in under the older man's authority. "Yes, Captain, it's understood," he said flatly.
"Well, Lieutenant," Peter said pointing down into the valley, "we could bring that experience of yours to good use. Those weird wagons have to spend the night somewhere, and between us two veterans, we should be able to find out what exactly they are."
****
Kassel
"Your Grace." Moritz bowed. "Let me express my most heartfelt sympathy for your husband's much too early departure from our Lord's earth. I held his hand during that time, and want to tell you that his last thoughts were directed at you, dear sister-in-law."
Amalie took a deep breath; she tried to keep the tears in check that were threatening to well up, but miserably failed. "Thank you," she whispered. She'd thought that she'd overcome those emotions unseemly for a regent, but to see Moritz, whose face bore so much similarity to Wilhelm's, and to be reminded of what she'd lost, was simply too much.
Only after more than a minute she could gather herself enough to straighten. "Thank you, Your Grace. Your condolences are most appreciated." But then she couldn't hold it back any longer. "Oh Moritz, thank you very much for bringing my Wilhelm back to me," she sobbed more than she said.
Then she felt a little hand grasp hers. Looking down she saw her son's tear-filled eyes. "Don't cry, Mama," he sobbed, "or I can't stop, too."
"Yes, Wilhelm," she whispered. "Hold my hand, and I'll try." She turned her head around. "Herr von Boyneburg," she addressed her court marshal firmly, "can you please care for the late landgrave's mortal remains. And see that those veterans who brought him back are well fed and otherwise provided for. Maybe we'll need them soon."
She turned back, just in time to see Moritz looking up in astonishment.
"Colonel von Hessen, please follow me. We need to talk."
****
Moritz was shocked, but tried not to let it show. "An invasion?" he asked. "Well, he didn't waste time, but, Your Grace …"
Grantville Gazette, Volume 64 Page 10