1635- the Wars for the Rhine (ARC)

by Anette Pedersen

  “Oh, sorry. I was woolgathering.” Trinket shook her head and opened the door. “I did ask Archbishop Ferdinand, and there’s nothing seriously wrong with having a stained glass window in a secular room. But he didn’t approve. Of course. Any money one could spare should be given to the Church.”

  “Ah! But then glass-makers have nowhere to practice before working on the big windows in churches—and would either starve or be forced to rely on the church’s charity as well.”

  At Charlotte’s words Trinket’s face lit up, and she gave the first completely unguarded smile Charlotte had seen on her face.

  “I’d not thought about it that way.” She impulsively gave Charlotte a hug. “I’m very glad my brother-in-law married you. The rest of the family just makes fun of me.” She gave a sigh. “I know I’m vain and silly, but I really want my pretties so much. But never mind that now. I better go be sensible in the kitchen, and see that the table is set for lunch in the big dining room. Lucie runs the household, when Maxie isn’t here, but they are both moving to Magdeburg, so I’m supposed to take over.”

  After she left, Dame Anna poured the warm water from the big jug into the basin, and handed Charlotte a washing cloth. “Not a complete dim-wit.”

  “No. I take it she was Archbishop Ferdinand’s ward after her parents died.”

  “Yes. And I don’t envy her that. I had a word with Thomas, our old head-groom, while you were greeting the rest of the family. The Archbishop is still supposed to be somewhere near Aachen and showing no signs of returning. Could be just the weather stopping him, but Franz’s former secretary, Otto Tweimal, has been here to talk to the council, and supposedly brought reports back to his new master.”

  “I see. And I think I’ll leave all worries about Archbishop Ferdinand and his doings to Melchior. But let’s hurry to that lunch. I’m starving.”

  “So, come spring I’ll move myself and all the Peters to Magdeburg.” Lucie smiled at Charlotte and offered her the platter with spicy roast duck and honeyed quiches for a second serving. “Maxie—that is Sister Maximiliane—has bought a fairly large house in that town, and invited me to make my home there. I’ll take all the Peters with me, as they’ll have better opportunities for an education there. Father Johannes—he’s a painter and a very good friend of both me and Melchior, who has recently started a production of porcelain—might try the oldest Peters as apprentices, but in any case there should be plenty of opportunities for them there.”

  “That sounds like a very good idea.” Charlotte smiled back and passed the platter on to her husband. Lucie had seemed a little quiet, until she started talking about the children. It obviously wasn’t a problem to her that they were the offspring of her husband and his mistress. “But are they really all named Peter?”

  Everyone around the table laughed. “Oh, no. Two of them are even girls,” Melchior said, refilling the goblet he shared with Charlotte with wine. “It is Father Johannes’ doing. During his stay with the Americans in Grantville, he had read a book about Peter Pan and something called The Wild Boys, and he claimed that the Peters were all wild boys at heart, and therefore started to call them all Peter.”

  “I suspect that he also couldn’t tell them apart, but it really was a most amusing story, and the Peters absolutely loved it.” Lucie glanced around the table to see if anybody wanted more of the meat dishes before nodding to the maid by the door to signal the serving of the next course. The Hatzfeldts set a very nice table for a household in a town that had been under siege for the entire autumn, so Charlotte took the opportunity to change the subject.

  “I am surprised at the speed at which your larder has been restocked.” She smiled first at Lucie then to Hermann on the other side of the table to indicate that she wasn’t talking simply about food. “How far around do you normally trade?”

  “Oh, it’s fairly much all the way up and down the Rhine.” Hermann answered. “We do not get quite the same amount of exotic trade as the ocean ports, and of course any wars or rebellions touching the Rhine will disturb things for a while, but as one road closes, so another gains importance. If the present trouble in Bavaria continues, the trade along the southern route east from the Rhine via Basel is almost certain to increase. Are you familiar with Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar?”

  “Not really. We met briefly a few times after my marriage to Wolfgang, but we’ve never spoken more than a few commonplace greetings.”

  Charlotte appreciated the discretion shown by Hermann by not mentioning Essen, but Bernhard and the upper Rhine was not the direction Charlotte wanted the conversation to take. “I am however more interested in the possibilities along the lower Rhine. According to the letters we have received from Magdeburg, the USE plans to support Essen’s claim-by-conquest to the Düsseldorf area, while my brother is expected to receive the rest of Berg, and join the USE. I would of course have preferred to keep Berg—all of it—for my son and myself, but I have no intention of jeopardizing the prosperity of Jülich by refusing to take advantage of the trading possibilities with Essen as well as the USE—much less create a break with my family.”

  “Ah! Spoken like a true ruler.” Uncle George at the end of the table raised his goblet and nodded smiling at Charlotte. “Have you also sought information about the needs of your realm, and the possibilities available?”

  “Frau Benedicte Eigenhause in Bonn mentioned several possibilities, and Allenberg, my new secretary, knew of a few more. But I’m afraid Jülich needs almost everything.” Charlotte smiled back at the charming old man. “Wolfgang’s campaign against Essen was brief as such goes, but he threw every resource he had into that undertaking.”

  “A sound enough decision in its self.” Herman looked toward Melchior, who nodded in agreement. “A halfhearted attack against someone as strong and resourceful as Essen would be a complete folly. And whatever else your first husband was, he was definitely no fool.” Hermann hesitated. “Though some of his latest decisions looked a bit odd from the outside.”

  “Spoken like a true diplomat, brother,” said Melchior. “But do you know of any particular needs and problems in Jülich, Uncle George?”

  “We have of course been rather isolated by the siege,” George replied, “and later fully occupied by repairing as much of the damage as possible. The number of casualties grew extremely high during the later part of the cannonade, when Hesse knew he had to win before he was stopped. But both young Wilhelm’s mother, Adolpha von Cortenbach, and your foster-brother, Johan Adrian, have written. Jülich has not been under direct attack from either Essen or Hesse, but there have been minor raids and some looting, mainly from Archbishop Ferdinand’s mercenaries. The people left in charge by Duke Wolfgang have proven somewhat wishy-washy, so there hasn’t been much in the way of central coordination, but Johan Adrian and Adolpha have made contact with the surviving members of the old administration to form a kind of emergency council. From what they can tell, the main problems are in the short term: a serious lack of food due to most of the harvest being stolen by raiders, a shortage of weapons for local defense of what’s left, and no money to buy either. In the long term: the loss of all the local men killed by the Essen army could cripple Jülich despite its fertile land, but if Melchior plans to keep even a minor part of his regiments around him, that should solve that problem quite neatly.”

  “Oh, I do. And we’ve got the weapons as well.” Melchior said. “Any signs of activity from the Low Countries?”

  “Patrols watching the border, certainly.” Herman took over. “But Don Fernando has so far stayed mainly on the west bank of the Meuse, De Geer on the east bank of the Rhine, and nobody but Archbishop Ferdinand has shown any interest in the area south of the Aachen-Cologne road.”

  “Most likely everybody has been waiting to see what decrees came out of Magdeburg.” Lucie interrupted her brother. “Jülich’s valuable for its farming potential—and from what Father Johannes told about the likely effect of the industries now growing around Magdeburg, it’s only
likely to become more so in the future—but no sane ruler in this part of the world is likely to want a war with the USE.”

  “No, but that’s not necessarily enough to protect Jülich, unless I follow the rest of the family and join the USE.” Charlotte looked at her husband. “We’ll need someone to look into buying food in bulk for immediate delivery, but preferably delayed payment until after next harvest. And I’d like us to move to Jülich Town as quickly as possible.”

  Melchior nodded. “Allenberg with someone local.”

  “One of my assistants.” Herman interrupted.

  “Yes, and contacting the Abrabanels,” said Lucie.

  “Good.” Melchior leaned forward to look at Wolf at the other end of the table. “You take the Old Boys into Jülich the day after tomorrow. Simon would have left messages with either Adolpha or Johan Adrian in Jülich Town. Find out where they’ve gone, leave a garrison, and move on. If no trouble reported, head for the Meuse. Don Fernando is far more likely to start an aggression than De Geer.”

  “I really think it would be better to send Lorentz or Dannwitz. My reputation isn’t suited for calming people down.” Wolf said and reached to pour more wine for Madelaine and himself. “On the other hand, I’m not at all sure it’s safe to ignore Archbishop Ferdinand, and alarming him would have no drawback that I can see. So why don’t I move the Old Boys to Düren, and tell Dannwitz to take his regiment north into Jülich?”

  “Nice try, Cos, but you’re not going anywhere near Irish Butler, if I can prevent it.” Melchior hesitated. “You do however have a point about alarming people. I’ll take the Old Boys myself, and you’ll be personally in charge of Charlotte’s safety, both here in Cologne and during the move once I’ve made sure it’s safe.”

  Wolf’s response was a word not previously known to Charlotte.

  Chapter 37

  Between Aachen and Cologne,

  February 15, 1635

  “Shit!” Simon tried to throw himself off the horse as it slipped on a patch of ice beneath the snow, but his stiff snow-covered legs refused to respond, and both he and the horse hit the ground hard. Struggling to keep his wits about him despite the fog that came from having been tired and cold for too long, Simon took stock of his situation. No one was shooting at him or waving around edged objects—which was always good. His horse was heaving for breath but not screaming, so it might be foundered or lame, but probably wouldn’t have to be killed—which was really good, since cavalry horses were expensive. His face, toes and hands were all hurting, but they had been doing so for hours, and it wasn’t until they stopped hurting that frostbites became a real danger. So if nothing was broken, he could probably walk to some kind of shelter. The bad news was that while his small compass could keep him going in the right direction, he’d lost the road after crossing the Rur river, and had no idea how far he was from Cologne.

  Simon twisted himself around to reach the saddle and free the foot still caught in the stirrup. At his touch the horse scrambled to its feet, and Simon slowly stood up. Nope, nothing broken, and while the horse held its head so low it was almost touching the ground, it did seem to be resting evenly on all four legs. Normally he would have found shelter—or rather had stayed where he was three days ago when the snowstorm came racing in from the northwest—but the news Simon was bringing just couldn’t wait. A large Habsburg army had crossed the Meuse at Maastricht and was moving eastward. Don Fernando had obviously heard that Jülich was not yet a part of the USE, and decided to try expanding his border all the way to the Rhine. The storm would have hit Rosy before he could have reached Cologne, and Simon had no way of knowing if the General even knew about the attack on Geilenkirchen. The troops at Geilenkirchen had probably been an advance force aimed at securing the road to Jülich Town, but all movements would be stalled by the storm, so if only he could reach the General, there was still time to beat them back.

  Fumbling to get the compass out from its pocket in his coat Simon would have dropped it in the snow if it hadn’t been attached with a thin chain. West. That was probably still his best direction. Sooner or later he would hit the Rhine—though hopefully not literally. Picking up the reins Simon started walking.

  Cologne, Hatzfeldt House

  February 16, 1635

  “They’ve left.” Wolf slammed open the door to the muniment room.

  “Really! Wolf, you are the rudest, most inconsiderate . . .” Lucie grabbed her blotter and tried to soak up the ink she had just spilled.

  “Mind your manner, Cos, and help Lucie clean up the spill.” Melchior reached across the big oak table to remove the most important of the papers he’d been studying with Charlotte, Lucie and Allenberg.

  “I’ll do that!” The tiny Peter on duty as Lucie’s page quickly pulled a lamb-skin off a chair, threw it on the table, climbed on top of it and started scrubbing by stamping his feet.

  Lucie looked at Charlotte and grinned. “At least it wasn’t one of the cats.”

  “Cats work as an ink blotter?” The Peter stopped stamping, and looked questioning at Lucie.

  “I don’t know. And you’ll not try to find out. Nor will any of the other kids. And you must not get Old Thomas to try it for you either.” Lucie lifted the child down, and removed the lamb-skin. The table was a mess. “You acted very quickly to stop the ink. That was fine. Now take the skin down to the laundry room and give it to one of the maids.”

  The child bundled up the skin and ran towards the door, forcing Wolf to step aside.

  “The Peters really have too much energy to be locked up in the house by this snowstorm with no real duties, dear sister.” Melchior started blotting the stained papers with a piece of scrap-paper before passing them on to Allenberg.

  “I know, but they are still just kids, and I don’t want to work them too hard.” Lucie stretched her body carefully to ease her crippled muscles. “This table will need both sanding and scrubbing with bleach.”

  “And just how long do you all plan to ignore me?” Wolf, who had remained by the door, tapping his foot in irritation, walked to the table and dropped gracelessly into a chair.

  “Grow up, Cos.” Lucie’s smile took the worst edge off her words. “You sound like a sulking child, and that is quite unbecoming for a man your age.”

  “Apologize for startling the ladies, and you can tell us what’s wrong.” Melchior leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at his second-in-command. Wolf was always a problem when idle in garrison, and while he was obviously trying to behave himself, he was also chafing under the snowstorm that was keeping them all from moving on with their plans.

  “Ladies, my apology.” Wolf stood up and made a small bow, his temper under control, if only barely so. “Irish Butler and the rest have left the Archbishop and gone east or south. Abrabanel had sent someone from his caravan back to Cologne, and he mentioned seeing the bastards on the road to Trier, when I bought him a drink.”

  “And the Archbishop?”

  “Still holed up somewhere south of Düren, as far as anybody knows. Cos, I really, really want to go after them.”

  “No. Once Simon and his patrol get back and report on the situation in Jülich, I’ll consider giving you furlough. But I’m not going to rob myself of my second in command, when facing an unknown situation. You’re far from useless to me, my Wolf.” Melchior smiled as he added the compliment.

  “Thanks.” Wolf scowled at Melchior. “How useless would I have to become in order for you to let me hunt?”

  “Useless enough for me to hang you, Cos. You are not going.” The steel in Melchior’s voice made it clear that the discussion was over.

  * * *

  Simon staggered into the court of Hatzfeldt House, and was knocked down by somebody rushing out without looking where he was going. It would probably have been smarter just to have remained at the gate tower where he’d left his horse, but Simon was no longer really thinking, and the old habit of reporting only to the general was too strong.

  There were
a lot of people talking, moving him around, and replacing his cloth with warmed blankets, but it wasn’t really until he was sitting in an inglenook, that he started recognizing anybody. He was popped up against Wolf and with the general on the other side feeding him honeyed milk from a mug. That was weird.

  “Report, Simon.” The short order from the general got Simon talking.

  “Don Fernando has crossed the Meuse with a large army, taken Gangelt, and is besieging Sittard. Geilenkirchen was under attack. Cavalry and dragoons. Pr’bly one regiment at Geilenkirchen, at least three at Sittard. Schaden gone north, Rosy to warn you and Adolpha. You haven’t seen him?” His worry for Rosy finally cut through Simon’s foggy mind.

  “No, but the road to Jülich Town has been closed since the storm started. Impassible drifts by Elsdorf. Any details?”

  “No. I turned back as soon as I knew they had a stronghold at Gangelt. Slow going in the snow. Wouldn’t have moved much since then.” As the heat seeped into Simon, he could feel himself relaxing, and the world started spinning in circles.

  “Wolf, take the siege specialists to Düren and lead Dannwitz west to Aachen, then move north and see if you can gain control of the road to Sittard. I’ll take both Lorentz and the Old Boys and get the road cleared to Jülich Town, then aim for Gangelt by way of Aldenhoven and Brunssum. Meet me . . . “ Melchior’s orders were the last Simon heard before passing out.