by J. K. Swift
Leopold could no longer keep the grin from his face. “Can I not hide anything from you?”
“Not a thing,” she said. “Now will you let me know what pleases you so, or shall I tell you my own news?”
Leopold was glad she was here. The news he had received was simply too good to keep to himself any longer.
“I have received word from my brother,” he said.
Catherine’s gloved hand flew to cover her mouth. She spoke through it. “Has he defeated the Bavarian already?”
“Better, my sweet. He is sending me the Sturmritter. He has commanded their captain, Franco Roemer, to gather his knights and ride to our aid as soon as possible.”
“Wonderful!”
Leopold put his hands behind his head and looked at the carved ceiling.
“I did not think it possible with him being at war. But apparently he sent Roemer and his men home for a break to get some rest before a major offensive he is planning. He suggested I use them when I invade the forest regions as a way to provide the men with a little exercise.”
“Your brother is wise. Men like those of the Stormriders are not well suited to leisure. Did you know I met Captain Roemer once?” There was open admiration in her voice.
“I did not know that,” Leopold said. A pang of jealousy shot through him and it took a moment for him to recognize the strange sensation for what it was. “When exactly was that?”
“It was before he had been promoted to Captain. He stayed with us for a half year and was swordmaster to my cousins…” Her voice trailed off and she had a far away look in her eyes.
“And what impression did he make?”
“Oh, a very good one,” she said. “Sir Roemer is a true gentleman,” she quickly added.
“He is a killer. And a very good one. There is no man more capable with a lance in all of Christendom. I hear he once skewered three men with a single charge. Spitted them all like pigs.”
Catherine looked away and laced her fingers together. “Well, he was always a polite, well-mannered nobleman when I saw him,” she said.
“He was the seventh child of a minor noble in Landeck. We would not even know the Roemer name if Franco had not distinguished himself so on the battlefield. Some say his family’s blood is more gypsy than blue.”
“That might explain his eyes,” Catherine said, and then bit her lip when Leopold looked at her.
“You had some news as well?”
Catherine nodded, and her face lit up. “I too received a message today. From my father.”
“Oh?”
Catherine glided over to the door and threw it open. She called out and a man wearing the livery of Savoy stepped through. He kept his eyes straight ahead and his chin up. He exuded the haughtiness Leopold had come to associate with his wife’s duchy.
Today, however, Leopold hardly noticed, for his eyes were drawn to the large strongbox the servant carried. He placed it on Leopold’s desk and lifted the lid. It was filled to overflowing with gold florins.
“My father has agreed to finance your campaign to take back the Gotthard Pass from those treacherous mountain people,” Catherine said, her excitement creeping to a higher level with every word.
Leopold stared at the box. And then at Catherine. She beamed like an angel. He looked back at the gold to make sure he had not imagined any of it. What a miraculous turn of events. First, the Sturmritter were his to command. And now this.
He looked to the ceiling and searched for the right words to express his gratitude.
“You are wrong my dear,” he finally said. “Your father has agreed to finance our campaign. Yours and mine.”
The way her face glowed told Leopold he had found them.
Chapter 20
Midsummer came and went, and the Altdorf fortress was completely dismantled. Thomas moved his army’s base to Schwyz in early fall, since the network of forts and palisade walls had been completed and permanently manned with lookouts for some time. He set up his tent and command center behind the walls of the largest one, which guarded the main road leading south from Austrian lands.
The Confederate army numbered some eleven hundred men, but Noll’s resources told them Leopold had assembled over eight thousand. It was what Thomas had expected, but when Noll heard the news, he insisted on making the rounds personally to Zurich, Berne, and Lucerne to find out where the additional men were that they had promised. He had been gone more than a week, and Thomas found himself wishing he had not let him go. The Habsburgs controlled all the main roads now, and travel, even for someone like Noll, was exceptionally dangerous.
One day, while doing an inspection round of the forts, Thomas stopped by Sutter’s inn. He knew the innkeeper himself would not be there, for he was on duty at the main palisade walls. But that did not bother him, for it was Sutter’s daughter, Mera, that Thomas had come hoping to see.
She greeted him outside with a hug and ushered him through the back door into the kitchen. Before he could protest, a plate of cheese and thinly sliced meats appeared in front of him.
“Have you heard from Noll?” She asked.
Thomas shook his head. “Nothing yet. But I am sure he will be along any time now.”
She forced a smile and nodded. “How is my father doing? Have you made a soldier out of him yet?”
“He has become quite the natural leader. The men have taken to calling him ‘the Baron’.”
Mera laughed. “That is the perfect name for him, I can tell you that much.”
Her laughter died off when she noticed Thomas looking distractedly around the room.
“What is it, Thomas?”
He pushed up one of his shirtsleeves and then pulled it down again. “I was wondering… if you had seen, or heard from, Seraina, as of late.”
“Oh, Thomas.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “Not since you asked me last. Three weeks ago she stopped by for a few minutes to drop off some salves and ointments for the men, but I have not seen her since.”
Thomas nodded, and studied the larder shelves.
“I am sure she will be back before you know it though. This is not the first time Seraina has disappeared. She just needs her time alone, on occasion.”
Thomas looked at Mera and could tell by her eyes that she was just trying to be kind. She had no idea when, or if, Seraina would ever be back.
Thomas left Sutter’s inn at dusk. He walked Anid around the farmers’ fields and took the forest path that lead to the west road. As Anid stepped out of the woods onto the wider road, he whinnied and his ears perked up. Ten feet away, sitting on a rotten log with his chin in his hands, was Noll. He looked up and then slowly stood as Thomas approached. His boots and the hem of his cloak were covered in dried mud, and his normally clean-shaven face showed a growth of several days. There were dark circles under his eyes, and sweat stains covered his chest.
“I just came from the inn,” Thomas said.
“I know. I saw your horse there.” Noll’s voice rasped as he spoke. “Any word on Seraina?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Why did you not come in? Mera has been worried about you.”
“I have news, Thomas. Bad news. And it is not something I wish to burden Mera with.”
Thomas slid down out of the saddle. He pulled out his water skin and tossed it to Noll.
“Drink some of that, first. I do not want you dying halfway through.”
Noll tipped the skin to his lips with both hands. When the water flow began to slow down, he squeezed it with one hand, drank some more, and then sprayed his face off with the remainder. He lowered the depleted skin and looked at Thomas.
“They are not coming,” he said.
“Which ones?”
“Zurich, Berne, Lucerne. All of them. None of them. Zurich and Berne I can understand. Leopold has no doubt made the guilds better offers. But Lucerne? They are right across the lake from us. We share the same waters! Yet they believe they can distance themselves from this? Are they mad?”
He shook his head and sat back down on the decaying log.
“There must be someone else,” Thomas said.
Noll shook his head. “Even if there were, Leopold has all the roads and passes blockaded. No one can get through to us now. And it gets worse.”
“How?”
“Have you heard of the Sturmritter?”
“I have,” Thomas said.
“They just rode into Habsburg three days ago.”
Both men went silent. Thomas had been hoping for another thousand men, for that would have nearly doubled their forces. Noll’s news, however, did not come as a complete surprise. Stauffacher and Furst had been in negotiations for months now with the other cities. If they had truly intended to make a stand with Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden, they would have sent men by now.
Thomas reached into his saddlebag and pulled out some cheese Mera had wrapped in a piece of cloth for him. He carried it over and sat down next to Noll.
“The Sturmritter are men, just like the rest of us,” Thomas said, handing the cheese over to Noll.
Noll nodded a ‘thanks’. He unwrapped the cheese, stuffed a good portion of it into his mouth, and mumbled around it. “So where the hell is Leopold anyways? He should have been here last month. Why does he delay?”
Thomas shrugged. “Could be waiting for the final harvest to come in. That is what I would do.”
“Well, most of it is in. The first snows could be here any day.”
“Then I suppose it is time we made our final preparations,” Thomas said. He patted Noll on the shoulder and stood back up. “See you at the wall.”
“What, no offer to give me a ride?”
Thomas shook his head. “You are on your way to Sutter’s. You and I both know that. If Leopold attacks before you get back, I promise to not let Matthias kill him before you show up.”
“You are one mad ferryman, you know that?”
“I have had no ferry for a very long time, thanks in no small part to you. So why do you insist on calling me that?”
Noll grinned. “Because it makes you angry. And the angrier you get the better chance I think we have,” Noll said.
Chapter 21
Leopold had to admit Bernard was skilled at much more than just the use of a quill. Sculpting also seemed to be no small part of his repertoire.
Leopold’s war council gathered around the wide table built especially for the detailed clay landscape that Leopold’s chief scribe had built. Bernard had been out of sorts ever since the manuscript under his care had been lost when Leopold and Gissler were ambushed by Thomas Schwyzer, so when his lord told him he needed a very detailed map of the areas from Zug to Schwyz, Bernard had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the project. The result was a precise model of the two towns, complete with little wooden houses and stables. The surrounding countryside was also recreated from sculptor’s clay, painted in life-like colors and complete with forests, mountains, and rivers.
It was so realistic, Leopold had trouble keeping his captains focused on the battle plans. The Habsburg Fool delighted in touching lakes and trees and then would hold up his finger for the dozen or so men in the room to inspect. And beside him, Landenberg also seemed to be infatuated with the model. He kept trying to peer inside the small windows of the buildings of Zug.
“Landenberg? Did you hear what I said?”
The Vogt straightened up. “Yes, of course, my lord. We overnight in Zug and then assemble at dawn.”
Captain Roemer spoke up. “And from there we march straight on to Schwyz?”
Leopold nodded. “Most of us. Count Henri?”
Henri of Hunenberg had been quiet all night, Leopold thought. Perhaps he suspected something like this was coming.
“Yes my lord?”
“I intend to take the fight to them on two fronts. You will take your men over this pass,” Leopold traced a line with his stick over the landscape, “and attack this village in Obwalden. The rest of us will take Schwyz.”
The Count’s eyes clouded over and he crossed his arms. He kept his eyes locked on the model and said nothing.
“And remember. Ensure every one of your soldiers has enough collars and rope to secure at least three captives. If any man comes back with fewer than that, he will forfeit two months of his salarium. Is that understood?”
There was some murmuring at that, as to be expected, but Leopold did not care at this point.
"Good. Then, if there are no questions I propose we adjou—”
The Fool’s hand shot into the air and waved back and forth inches from Leopold’s nose. “My lord Duke! I have a thought!”
Some of the men chuckled, a few rolled their eyes. But Leopold was feeling especially magnanimous at the moment. This night had been a year in the making. Why not end the evening on a ridiculous note for the sake of morale?
“You have something to add?”
The Fool stood upright and decided that was not enough. He hopped up onto a chair and turned a full circle, looking at every man in the room as he did so. There were more than a few smiles as the men tried to guess what the jester was up to.
“You have all given wise council tonight,” the Fool began, his voice deep and solemn. “Very wise council indeed, on how to get into the lands of the mountain people. But my question is…”
He paused and turned a slow circle again on his chair, pointing at each man in turn.
“My question is… how do you intend to get out?”
The room was quiet for more than a few seconds, as men waited expectantly for more. But when it finally became clear that the Fool had nothing further to add, someone began laughing. Others soon joined in, and eventually everyone had at least a smile on his face.
Everyone except Count Henri of Hunenberg, and ironically, the Fool himself.
Leopold dismissed the marshals and lords and they wasted no time in retiring to their appointed rooms within Habsburg Castle. Within minutes, only Leopold and Klaus remained in the council room.
“You disapprove of my plan. I can see that. Admit it. Tell me what is on your mind, Klaus.”
“You split our forces by sending Count Henri to attack from the Brunig Pass.”
He paused, and would have been content to leave it at that, but Leopold waved for him to continue. So Klaus grunted, and pushed on. “He does not command many soldiers. I agree. But the ones he has are good fighting men, and well disciplined. He has got men that even fought against the heathen of Outremer. Next to the Sturmritter, they are our best soldiers. I would rather it be Henri’s men at my back than those riffraff from Kyburg and Toggenburg.”
Why Klaus, what an impassioned speech. For you. The last time I heard you string so many words together, I was seven, and you had just caught me sticking a handful of crushed glass under father’s saddle blanket.
“Good. If even you, a man who has been at my side for my entire life, cannot see what I am up to then chances are no one else does either,” Leopold said.
Klaus squinted and the flesh of his eyelids bunched up, making his eyeballs all but disappear. Leopold could not help thinking how it made him look like a newborn babe. Albeit, a large, hairy one with very little patience for fast-talking princes.
“You are right, of course,” Leopold said. “Henri’s men are excellent. It is Henri himself I find fault with. You see, I simply do not trust that he will do what I tell him. He has a perverse sense of honor and I think it could come to haunt him someday."
“If you keep sending everyone away you do not trust, your army is going to get very small, very fast,” Klaus said.
Leopold chuckled. “Truer words were never spoken. Fortunately, we only need to keep this force together until the day after tomorrow.”
“Yes, my lord. And I for one will not be sad to see it disband.”
“Oh, come now, Klaus. Enjoy it while you can. Did you find a suitable gathering ground south of Zug?”
“Aye, my lord. A farmer’s field, about an hour south of the town.
From there we will be able to form up into ranks and march into Schwyz.”
“Does this farmer know what we intend to use his land for?”
“Damn rights. My lord.”
“Excellent,” Leopold said.
“And I told him to not be hiding any of his cows either, because I counted them when I was there.”
“You need not have done that,” Leopold said.
“The men will be hungry. We may need them all,” Klaus said.
“Yes, yes. I realize that. But what I mean is, we will never be at that farmer’s field.”
A grin spread across Leopold’s thin lips. He waited for Klaus to speak, but the old soldier just stood there, his eyeballs retreating further and further into the back of his head.
“Do you know why we are not going to use that field?” Leopold asked.
“It was a ruse. You wanted a mouthy farmer to tell everyone that we would be there.”
“Precisely.”
“But we will not be there,” Klaus said.
“You are much better at this than you look.”
Leopold walked back to the clay model of the lands surrounding Schwyz. He pointed to the road running south from Zug all the way to the village of Schwyz.
“As far as the farmer knows, and I am sure far more people are aware of it by now, our army will spend the night in Zug. Then, early the next morning we set out for Schwyz. We stop at this cooperative peasant’s farm, break our fast, check equipment, form up into ranks and then charge the Schwyzers’ little mud walls they have erected to protect their precious lands. Correct?”
“That is… or… was the plan, my lord?” Leopold gave Klaus a moment. It was not that he thought him to be a stupid man. Far from it. Leopold had been witness to, and the benefactor of, some very well thought out plans that the old veteran had concocted entirely on his own. But he was a plodder, and like most plodders, did not handle change well.
When Leopold saw the light flicker in Klaus’s eyes, he continued.
“When we leave Zug, we will not go south. We will go east until we reach the far side of Lake Aegeri. Then we turn south, and take the paths below Morgarten.”