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Mike Arram

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  1. Mike Arram
    Prince Henry, Willi and Serge were alone on the heathland of the Wenzlerwald, apart from the unobtrusive presence of a royal falconer. It had been given out that the prince intended to take a weekend devoted entirely to sport with only his closest friends. The day was a fair one, a hot sun tempered by a cool breeze and shaded by racing white clouds. ‘Let’s recognise that we three are family now,’ the prince declared, ‘so we’re Henry, Willi and Serge, if you please. Damned if I’ll keep up th
  2. Mike Arram
    Andreas Wittig was impatient to get back to his regiment, but was riveted to his seat next to the window by the glare he was getting from Willi von Strelsau. ‘Can I go now, my lord? Please.’ ‘Sit still, boy. You have no idea how important this is, and I must get it finished and in the post before we head off down to the river. The etcher in Strelsau needs to have it.’ Willi returned to his sketch book, pressing his lips together as he carefully and skilfully completed in ink a half-face li
  3. Mike Arram
    As the triumphant retinue of Prince Henry jogged its way up the Starel valley and reentered Ruritania, all was not quite at ease in the minds of several of its members. As Serge tried to put together the fragments of memory of his life-and-death struggle on the field of Basovizza there were things that did not add up, principally the astonishing prowess of young Andreas Wittig in his defence. Although his memories might well have been disordered by physical pain and his expectation and fear
  4. Mike Arram
    Serge’s arm hurt badly. He used his left hand to pull off his right gauntlet, an agonising exercise. The bullet had penetrated the buff leather sleeve below his elbow and lodged there. He needed a surgeon, but that would have to wait for now. He recovered his sword from the ground and held it awkwardly in his left hand. First he had to deal with the Pasha Mehmed, sitting on the ground amongst the bodies of his guard, Andreas’s blade still at his throat. Serge looked around. The melee had moved w
  5. Mike Arram
    Karl Wollherz excavated the pocket of his blue waistcoat. It was the second day of the great march of the army of the Catholic League. He pulled out and scrutinised a scrap of paper he had borrowed from his master’s document case, on which he had written in his own painful hand the lines of prophecy Wilchin had brought back from his visit to the dark islands in the land of Faërie: There will be a day of greatness and glory for all four of you boys, and it is coming hard upon you. For t
  6. Mike Arram
    Boromeo von Tarlenheim scanned the valley as he listened to Andreas. It seemed the Turkish commander realised that while the Croat companies had been easy meat he now had a tougher target to deal with. The sipahis were summoned back into their companies by the braying of horns. There had to be two whole regiments of them. The fire slackened behind the two boys as Boromeo’s men realised the Turks were withdrawing out of range. ‘Perhaps you and the other young gentleman might get down from th
  7. Mike Arram
    Willi von Strelsau awoke to find Serge smiling quirkily down at him. He stretched and yawned. ‘What is it Phoebus?’ ‘I have a busy day ahead of me, and I just wanted the image of you looking peaceful in my mind before I left. I’m glad you’re staying in Laibach, and not accompanying the army.’ ‘I had no choice really, darling Phoebus. Henry more or less begged me to. It was the only way he could get Rica to stay, knowing I’d be here to amuse her. Otherwise of course I’d have followed yo
  8. Mike Arram
    Wilchin placed his drum in front of Andreas and Karl and took his seat on it, tucking his sticks into a pocket on his white belt. ‘So,’ said Andreas, ‘where’ve yer been and how on earth did yer end up here?’ ‘That’s a bit of a long story,’ came the reply. ‘Oh?’ Karl interjected, ‘and where did yer go with Jonas Niemand?’ Wilchin grinned. ‘That was amazing, and a bit spooky. He said he wanted a real adventure and I was just the boy for it. So next thing I knows, we was swimmi
  9. Mike Arram
    Karl Wollherz gave Brunhild her head, since she seemed to know exactly where she was going. The mare took narrow tracks across the heath and through brakes of leafless trees and undergrowth, and eventually, after the best part of an hour, plunged into a broad and deep wooded dell, like a great bowl set in the hills. ‘Where’re we going, Karlo?’ a puzzled Wilchin finally asked in his ear. ‘To see a friend,’ came the reply, ‘someone yer knows too.’ ‘Huh? Not so much as a shack out he
  10. Mike Arram
    ‘That was flattering,’ Serge observed as they departed the ducal castle. ‘He kept us chatting for a good half hour over coffee.’ ‘Quite a charming man, I thought. What a difference from his dark majesty in the Hofburg. Mind you, there was an agenda. We left him a lot better informed on the subject of Prince Henry than he would have been before our tête-à-tête. Where did the young prince get to? I thought he was supposed to be there with us at the audience.’ ‘So did I. Maybe you fright
  11. Mike Arram
    Serge had taken to whistling Christmas carols around the house, despite Jan Lisku’s tired insistence that it was only the first week of Advent. ‘But we’ll soon be heading to Olmusch for the season, you have to be a little excited, Janeczu.’ ‘Maybe, sir. But my mind revolts against the inappropriateness, that’s all. Besides, there’s an awful lot to do before we go.’ ‘Not so much after your hard work. How you talked Gottlieb round, I’ll never know.’ ‘Money had something to do w
  12. Mike Arram
    Willi von Strelsau had many talents, but the one Prince Henry was beginning to find most useful was that of impresario. The city of Strelsau recalled the March review fondly, but rather more for Willi’s Turkish entertainment than for the efficiency and smartness of his regiments, as the prince ruefully acknowledged. That production had thoroughly engaged Willi’s abilities as organiser and stage manager, with some assistance from Serge in organising the charge of the Sipahis. Now Henry wanted Wil
  13. Mike Arram
    At midday on the Saturday before Pentecost in the year 1691 the entire household of the Sign of the Angel spilled on to the street of Engelngasse. Even Gottlieb, freshly bathed and in a reasonably decent suit, walked with the other servants behind Serge, Willi and Jan Lisku. The rear was brought up by Karl and Boromeo flanking the object of attention, a sheepish Andreas Wittig, whose baptism was to happen that day, in advance of his confirmation on Sunday. Andreas was in a fine new suit with a w
  14. Mike Arram
    Karl’s mouth gaped as he stared at his transformed horse. ‘Is she hurting?’ he asked Jonas, very concerned. ‘No, no’ the elf shrugged. ‘She’s a bit confused though. Can’t you tell?’ ‘What?’ ‘You can surely feel her thoughts by now. I certainly can, and you know her way better than I do. Go up, touch her face and look deep in her eyes.’ Karl did as he was told, kissed Brunhild’s nose and looked hard in her dark eyes, wider than usual as they were. He felt on his skin the win
  15. Mike Arram
    Karl patted Brunhild’s face and she nuzzled him back a little harder than usual and snorted, then began chewing on her manger. This was not like her. Then she lifted her tail and peed hard on the straw. ‘Andreas?’ he called over to the next box. ‘How’s Jennet this morning?’ ‘Hang on, I’m just finishing the brushing. She loves that. There. What’s the problem?’ ‘Come over to the door. Hear the stamping in the stable? The stallions are picking up on Brunhild. I think she’s in season
  16. Mike Arram
    Soldiers of the guard slammed the doors of the Presence Chamber, their captain with drawn sword preventing any approach from outside. The West Gallery filled with alarmed courtiers and servants. Within, four men stood watching as Prince Henry coolly tested his blade. ‘Now, my lord Aloysius. Willi’s laid out three swords on the table from which you may select any you prefer. The seconds may take the two you leave. Personally I find the hand guard of the Hungarian sabre cumbersome, but as you
  17. Mike Arram
    Serge and Jan Lisku took a leisurely breakfast together on the Monday morning after his return to the capital. First on their order of business was finances. ‘The position is not unhealthy, sir,’ Jan pronounced after going over the figures, ‘largely because of your grandfather’s generosity, also the palace was good enough to pay me your second quarter’s salary on time. I’ve settled accounts with Herr Ashkenazh on Judengasse; we made a small surplus on our first quarter in the city, and will
  18. Mike Arram
    Stefansfest dawned bright and clear, and as he met Jan Lisku in the chapel for morning mass Serge did not need the guarded look on his valet’s face to tell him he had a difficult day ahead of him. After kissing his mother and grabbing a venison pasty in the parlour he headed to the library, which was fast becoming his refuge in the house. It had been unshuttered and cleaned since his arrival, and its stoves and hearth were now to be routinely lit. He had persuaded his uncle that the books w
  19. Mike Arram
    To Serge, the great hall seemed fuller and noisier than usual that Wednesday night for dinner, though there were only three extra places. But there was more and louder conversation, particularly between his father and Colonel Dudley, with an Austrian major travelling with the latter making his contributions in a parade ground voice. Lieutenant Barkozy was more interested in talking with the boys at table, and seemed to have a way with them. Boromeo was more animated than Serge had ever seen him
  20. Mike Arram
    Karl stared at the boy perched on the altar. He seemed to be a boy, but to Karl’s mind there was something not so much wrong about him, as just too right. He was perfect and even to Karl’s young mind that sort of perfection and that level of beauty could not be accepted as natural. Then there was the matter of his casual nudity in midwinter and of course his possession of what seemed to be horns. Karl trawled his memory and what bubbled up were details from the stories his mother had told him. E
  21. Mike Arram
    There was a knock on the door of Serge’s study in Engelngasse, which he liked to call his ‘cabinet’ – a room all scholars, or would-be scholars, should work in, as he believed. His grandfather’s cabinet in the great house of Olmusch was an annexe to his library, where Roman busts, illustrated medieval bibles, a feathered headdress from the Americas and a narwhal’s horn were exhibited amongst many other curiosities. From there the Baron conducted his correspondence with the scholars and statesmen
  22. Mike Arram
    Prince Henry decided to make an event of the removal of his court to the Marmorpalast. ‘It’s a signal,’ Willi commented. ‘A new centre of power emerges in the kingdom and the young heir is declaring that the future is his. Well, that perhaps is a bit over-dramatic, but then what do you expect from me? Y’know Phoebus, I’ve started writing my memoirs.’ ‘Willi, you’re not seventeen yet.’ ‘But my life is so full of tragedy, great events and spectacle, I could be up to volume three by now
  23. Mike Arram
    Young Karl brought the post bag down from the Altstadt Raathaus office at midday. The packet addressed in his grandfather’s hand, though welcome, still seemed something like an accusation to Serge. He had been in Strelsau less than a month and already he was soliciting extra funds. Never mind that none of this was to do with any extravagance on his part. Debt, as Jan Lisku was fond of observing, began with circumstances, deepened with miscalculation and was a first step on the road to perdition
  24. Mike Arram
    ‘So you’ve been given leave from the Hofburg, master?’ Jan Lisku was surprised to find Serge amongst his books in their rooms at the Red Rose when he returned from his business about the city. ‘Just for a few days, Sancho. My father being in town was the excuse to ask, but there were other reasons. Where’s Karl?’ ‘He has to have Sunday off, sir, not that the little heathen will use the day of rest for what the Lord intended. So I imagine he’s hanging round the Platz and showing off to h
  25. Mike Arram
    The boy, Karl Wollherz, bit his lip and looked up to the ceiling as if he were a schoolchild who had been asked to give a recitation. Then he began. ‘Wilhelm von Strelsau. Well my lord, he has other names. He’s spoken of as Black Wilhelm or the Bastard of Strelsau, and many do speak of him, not so much perhaps for his doings as because of the manner of his birth.’ ‘Go on, Karl. Anything you can tell us will be of value.’ ‘His mother, sir, was the daughter of the old king, the first ro
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