The Golden Portifor - 20. Chapter 20

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 here.’

The trees they were passing under were different to others in the Strelsenerwald, at the western edge of which they now were, where the forest of Strelsau became the much larger Wenzlerwald. They towered overhead, taller than any Karl had ever seen before, with thick moss-grown boles. Undergrowth was sparse, and it was easy for the horses to walk down the dim aisled avenues to a distant spot of light they could see through the trunks. Eventually they reached the bottom of the dell and found there a wide and dark pool open to the sky. It was all very quiet. The pool was fed by no stream and around it was set a circle of dozens of tall monoliths, spattered with yellow and green lichen.

Andreas dismounted from Jennet. ‘Looks exactly like his sort of place,’ he remarked.

‘Whose sort of place?’ Wilchin demanded.

‘Remember the Strelsau Elf who saved the Conduit gang two Christmases ago?’ Karl replied. ‘This is a house he has.’

‘Eh? Here? There’s not a hut to be seen. How does yer know all this?’

‘It’ll take a while to explain,’ Karl replied, ‘and we ain’t got that long. Jonas might tell yer if he lets yer in.’

‘If he lets us in,’ Andreas corrected. ‘And how do we do this?’

‘Chilly though it is, there’s only one way I can think of,’ Karl shook his head.

‘Thought so,’ groaned Andreas and the two older boys began stripping. Andreas looked over at Wilchin. ‘What about it?’

‘Are you nuts? I can’t swim. Neither can you two, so far as I know.’

‘Swimming isn’t a skill yer needs in this pool,’ Karl observed.

Looking from one to the other, Wilchin muttered some swear words and stripped his skinny pale body, standing shivering, his arms clasped round his ribs.

Andreas took command. ‘This pool is deep and it goes straight down. Once we’re in, we’re in and there’s no out.’

‘I really dunno about this ...’ Wilchin began.

‘Jonas’ll look after us,’ Andreas said in what was intended to be in a confident manner, but his darting eyes belied it.

‘Wilchin, it’ll be fine, honest,’ Karl declared and added, ‘I got an idea.’ He padded over to several fallen branches. Andreas caught his intention and together they threw four into the pool, where they floated a couple of feet from the bank.

‘When we go in, if anything goes wrong, we can grab these branches and hopefully kick for the side, right?’ Karl said.

‘Now, hold hands,’ Andreas ordered, ‘and we jump together. Three-two ...’

Wilchin was tugged in after his friends and all three sank below the surface into the dim greenness under the water. Things did not go the way they had last time. Karl opened his mouth in the shock of the cold plunge and water flooded in. He panicked and thrashed about. A foot from another flailing boy kicked him in the head. His hair was grabbed and he was pulled upward. His sight began to dim. And as stars flashed in front of his eyes and blackness gathered, another hand grabbed his feet and pulled him down. He opened his eyes and suddenly was breathing freely, though he was still under water. Looking down, Jonas Niemand had come from beneath and had him and Wilchin by their ankles. He looked around wildly for Andreas, and was relieved to see him floating beside them.

‘I’m fine,’ Andreas said, and the sound reached Karl in the same strange way it had last time they were in this odd place.

‘Your friend peed himself,’ giggled Jonas, and a slowly-dispersing, discoloured cloud was indeed hovering in front of Wilchin’s groin.

‘It’s the Elf!’ Wilchin declared, ‘it really is!’

‘Give me your hands, Karl and Conduit Boy!’ Jonas ordered. ‘Andreas, hold on to Karl’s ankle and I’ll pull you all to the bottom. It’s warmer further down. Oh! Will Brunhild and Jennet be alright out there? Thanks though for not bringing them in with you.’

Eventually all four boys alighted on the white sand at the bottom of the pool, which ought to have been dark, so deep it was, but somehow the place possessed its own light. Wilchin surveyed the strange litter scattered around and poked among the debris of skulls, to come up grinning with a handful of gold coins.

‘Is this where you found the money you left us in the kilnhouse, Lord Elf?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Conduit Boy, it was. But you can’t take those away from here.’

‘Oh? They cursed or something?’

‘No,’ Jonas glared at him sternly. ‘They belong to me, and it so happens I don’t take kindly to thieves in my realm.’

Wilchin dropped the coins as if they were red hot. Andreas and Karl perched on the rim of the coffin they had sat on the previous time they visited, while Jonas settled cross-legged on the sand.

Karl led off. ‘Good to see you Jonas. I tried summoning you, but it didn’t work. Why’s that?’

The elf shrugged. ‘If you’d been in danger of your life, it would have, but ...’

‘You’re losing touch with us, aren’t you,’ Karl broke in.

Jonas nodded, a sad expression on his face. ‘It’s happened before. I’m not even sure why. But as children age, they leave my ... I don’t know the word for it. I find it harder to hear them in my head, is all I mean.’

‘But we can still see you!’ Andreas declared.

‘Of course. And as long as you want to see me, you will. But you’re losing that thing boys have and which speaks direct to me: the love of play and that laughter that bubbles up for no reason, which is the most joyful thing in the Universe, believe me.’

‘That’s really sad,’ Karl sighed.

‘It is for me maybe,’ the elf nodded, ‘but you boys gain more than you lose. I’ve seen it so often. And one day ...’.

‘Will they let you grow up too?’

‘So it was foretold.’

‘By Her?’ Karl asked, for in his love for Jonas Niemand the clear sight came upon him suddenly and in force. ‘Is that why you’re a little scared of Her?’

Jonas looked up at him, eyes wide. ‘Karl Wollherz. You’re the strangest boy I’ve yet met. You were special even before you’d drunk from the River of Life, as few humans ever have. No wonder you could see Her clearly in the abbey, for you’ve been given something of the same gift she has.’

‘It’s about Her we wanted to talk, Jonas. Because when I saw Her in the abbey, she gave me a ring, a very precious one as a token, though she didn’t explain why. But now I know it’s one of a pair, and the other the Lord Bastard of Strelsau had from his lost mother.’

Jonas frowned. ‘Is that what you have in that little bag round your neck? Let me see.’

Karl handed it over. The elf extracted the ring and held it up to scrutinise it, then he gave it back to the boy. ‘I can’t read this object,’ he said, ‘but I do know someone who can.’

‘Oh? Who’s that?’ asked Andreas.

‘Karl Wollherz, of course.’

‘Me?’ Karl exclaimed. ‘Why me?’

‘You have powers, Karl. More in fact than that wizard we saw frozen in stone, and as you grow they’re growing too. He needed spells and symbols to work his magic. But you need none of that. It’s inside you and all you need to do is open the door and let it out.’

‘How do I do that, Jonas?’

‘That, I’m afraid, I don’t know. She could tell you, of course, but you’d have to go to the abbey and ask Her, and I have a feeling someone’s been at work there to make it harder the next time you try it. But you need no spells. You just need to believe you have the power. And I’m pleased you have it, because it means that just like the Lady, you and I will stay friends all through your life ... and maybe afterwards too.’ He flashed his quick and merry grin and changed the subject. ‘Now, Conduit Boy, what’s your name?’

‘Er ... Wilchin, my lord Elf.’

‘Want to stay and play with me? I like you. You’re cheeky and fun. We can have a good time. You told Karlo and Ando you wanted to travel. So stay with me for a while, Wilchin of the Conduit, and I can show you things no other humans have ever seen, and take you places you’ve never dreamed of.’

‘Are you taking him out of the world and keeping him, Jonas?’ Andreas asked, a little concerned.

The eldritch boy laughed. ‘For a while, yes, if he agrees. You brought him here, and why shouldn’t Wilchin and I have the same fun you and I had.’

‘Are you taking him to Faërie?’ Karl asked.

‘Probably. For like you two, he may be more than he seems. And it’s in Eden his gifts would be revealed, if he has them. But see how I feel. Anyway it’s time to wish away his bugs, ills and dirt and make him clean and whole. Now hug and kiss me both and goodbye ... but only for now.’

The boys did so, then they hugged Wilchin. Andreas whispered in the boy’s ear. ‘You’re so lucky, Wilchin. Trust Jonas. He’ll take good care of you. We’ll see you in a while. Can’t wait to hear where you’ll have been with him.’

***

On Monday morning, Serge and Willi gathered with the rest of the officers of the Bedchamber behind Graf Almaric to await the appearance of the Crown Prince. Anton von Gerlitz had the basin for the prince’s offering, and a bespectacled court physician in a white wig was ready at his elbow. There was a tap from within the Chamber and Graf Almaric rapped his staff on the floor. Two menials opened the doors wide and the household entered in state, menial pages bearing linen and the day’s clothing, which that morning was decidedly military.

When the prince emerged into the Presence Chamber he was in the blue, red and gold uniform of a lieutenant general of the Ruritanian army, the star and chain of the Red Rose adding further distinction. Awaiting him were over a dozen generals and field officers, amongst whom Serge was interested to observe Major General Robert Dudley also in blue, red and gold, though without an order.

Hats were doffed and all bowed. The prince looked around happily. ‘Gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘today we begin the planning of our campaign to scour the Turks from the coastlands of the Adriatic Sea and drive them back to the gates of Ragusa. We must be in Laibach for Sunday 16th March and be ready for our army’s grand muster set for three days afterwards. Now gentlemen, we have a mere five weeks to make good our preparations for the campaign, and today we have to set out the arrangements for our enterprise. I do not mean our objectives and strategy, as that needs to be done more privately between the general officers in the days to come. I mean that we must draw up our standing orders for the Army of the League and sketch out an order of battle. Now sirs, to the first head of business. I ask Major the Freiherr von Tarlenheim-Olmusch to assume today the office of my military secretary and principal adjutant.’ The prince inclined his head to Serge, who bowed low at the distinction being offered him.

Prince Henry continued. ‘Good. My dear sir, now be pleased to occupy the table placed there, and commence keeping the minutes of this council of war. I believe I asked the appropriate materials to be readied for you.’

Other than Serge, the gentlemen and grooms of the Bedchamber and Backstairs withdrew from the Presence Chamber. The prince took his seat on the canopied throne and gave permission to the generals and colonels to sit themselves down on a ring of chairs set ready.

The second head of business was the drawing up of the army’s standing orders, which was commenced at the prince’s dictation, composed, Serge thought to himself, in a somewhat overblown fashion. ‘We Henry, Prince of Ruritania and Duke of Mittenheim, and by God’s grace Vicar General of the Empire in the Marches towards the Turks, Generalissimo of the Army of the Catholic League, do hereby ordain the following articles for the good governance and order of the said Army in its sacred purpose. Imprimis. Upon every day at dawn the Army in its various companies and divisions shall hear Holy Mass and at sunset shall say the office of Compline. Item. In acknowledgement of the holy nature of our cause and in respect towards Jesus Christ Our Lord and Saviour the smoking of tobacco, the use of foul language and whoring in the army shall be promptly punished by flogging.’

It seemed to Serge that the prince had done a quite considerable amount of research on the way such ordinances were set out, but had also gone out of his way to add more than a little egregious piety in view of the crusading purpose of the army. It was quite a long document by the time he concluded with: ‘Given by our hand this feast day of St Joseph in the city of Laibach in the 34th year of the reign of Leopold, by the Grace of God elected Emperor of the Romans, ever august, King of Germany, Hungary and Bohemia, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Burgundy and so forth and so forth, and in the year of Our Lord 1692.’

Serge read the draft back to the prince, and on concluding asked ‘Shall I send it to the court printer, sire? Do you think 1,000 copies will be enough?’

A mumble of assent came from the assembled officers. The prince then called on General Dudley to brief the council on the state of the Ruritanian levy and the manpower the League could hope to command.

‘Your Royal Highness,’ he commenced, consulting a notebook. ‘The response of His Majesty to the Emperor’s call has been most generous. The Ruritanian contingent he has committed will be 25 battalions, 50 companies of horse and 38 guns and mortars, a total of 18,000 men. This is a most considerable force which will be capable of much, I think. It is currently concentrating on an armed camp at Ostberg and will be ready to depart for Carniola within the week, and indeed it must if it is to reach Laibach for the muster. I will have more to say concerning how this is to be accomplished, but we have Prince Eugene’s solemn assurance that the Empire will cooperate to the fullest in provisioning the march with all necessities for horse and man.’

‘Very good, Dudley. And now the rest, if you please.’

Serge noticed the general’s jaw tighten. ‘Sire, the call of the pope and emperor has not stirred up the Catholic princes as we might have hoped. Glottenburg’s response has been handsome. The duchy will contribute 12 companies of horse and three battalions, with a very welcome 16 guns. Duke Willem Stanislas has fulfilled his pledge and more besides in view of your sister’s impending marriage to the Prince of Glottenburg. As for the rest, your good father’s friend and comrade, the King of Poland, has spared a brigade from his army in Moldavia, while the Venetian Republic, which has a dog in the fight, sire, has made pledges of several battalions of Croat mercenaries. But other than these all we have are vague pieties from the Catholic princes of Germany and Italy. What it is you may draw from the Imperial garrisons in the person of Vicar General of the Empire is not yet clear from Vienna. Perhaps yourself and your father may have more idea than I of what it is the emperor will permit you to draw from his forces in Hungary.’

The prince nodded and commented drily, ‘I do believe my father is at this very moment giving the Count Waldburg a very uncomfortable time on the subject. We hope to have some commitment before the end of the day.’ He paused and pondered before adding, ‘Gentlemen, I realise that this is not the level of force we had hoped for, but it is my father’s view that it is sufficient to accomplish something lasting against the Turk which will reflect honour on Ruritanian arms and the house of Elphberg and, more important, safeguard and further our faith under God. We shall convene the council again tomorrow at the same time, when we must discuss the objectives of the campaign and how they are to be achieved.’ He rose and all bowed.

***

Serge sat musing in his workroom at Engelngasse as he waited for his domestic staff to assemble. They shuffled in and stood against the wall, looking decidedly uneasy.

‘Now dear friends,’ he commenced with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘You’ll be aware that our prince is soon to leave to take command of a campaign against the Turk, and that I am to go with him. We are to depart next week. I will leave Master Jan to take care of the house and my interests in the city with Mistress Margrit and Cecile. So much I can determine. As for the rest I may have my wishes, but it is for others to decide what they will do. Master Jan and Gottlieb know that I have had to make new purchases for the campaign. My father tells me that no officer should go on campaign with less than three mounts, so a new black has been bought from Strelfurt to join Erebus and Acheron and will arrive tomorrow. Our dealer is also providing our establishment with two more mares.

‘Now the question is whether our groom, page and stablemaster will join me on the road to Laibach. You three may refuse the request, and if you do be assured you may carry on at Engelngasse in my employ with no prejudice to yourself.’ He looked at the three youths in question with a raised eyebrow.

Andreas exchanged glances with Karl before responding enthusiastically. ‘You can count on me and Karlo, my lord. There’s really nothing we’d like better than to follow you to those foreign lands.’

Serge beamed. ‘I’m so pleased, boys. While on campaign, your salaries will be doubled. Now what about you, Master Gottlieb?’

The older youth looked across at a very troubled Margrit, before coughing and replying ‘Well my lord, my respects and all but I’ll have to think about this one.’

Serge nodded. ‘I understand, Gottlieb. Take your time, but let me know before this weekend, if you will. I will otherwise have to take on an extra servant for the duration of the campaign. If you do decide to come I will also need a day or two’s notice to purchase the necessaries for you in clothing and equipment. Now Andreas and Karl, take yourselves off to Herr Meisel. He should have large packages ready for you both: two full sets each of the regimentals of the Prinzengarde, new cloaks and hats and all you need for going to war ... apart from pistols, of course.’

***

As they bowed to the backs of Prince Henry and the Lady Ulrica disappearing into their bedchamber, Willi grabbed Serge’s arm and hissed into his ear. ‘Up to my chamber now, Phoebus.’

When Willi had closed the door of his sanctuary behind him he sat himself down at his desk instead of bouncing on to the bed as was his usual practice.

‘I take it this isn’t about a sudden urgent need for a fuck?’ Serge queried.

Willi rolled his eyes. ‘No ... well maybe later. It’s happened again.’

‘What has?’

‘I asked permission to accompany cousin Henry on his great crusade, and my uncle said yes without so much as the slightest reservation.’

‘He might be hoping you’ll run away with one of those Turkish pashas you have disturbing erotic fantasies about. The ones you can’t stop giggling over to me.’

‘Ooh yes! Me enslaved and naked in chains in the open air at the slave market in Constantinople without even my periwig, being taken advantage of by all those muscular dark men, one after another, with everybody watching. I’ve drawn some pictures, you really must see them. Oh shit. I’ve gone hard as a rock. Strip off Phoebus, I really need it bad. It’s your fault.’

Clothes flew everywhere and it was an hour or so before Willi returned to the subject, as they were giggling over his rather explicit if neatly drawn art.

‘Nobody’s is that big,’ Serge commented.

‘It so happens there’s a Greek vase in one of the Hofburg galleries showing one just that size doing the business. I remember staring up at it stunned when I was six years old. So, Phoebus, if the Ancient Greeks believed that they could grow that long, then surely it must be true.’

‘Tut sir. You’re being sarcastic. If it’s the vase I saw, I believe the member in question was a satyr’s. You can’t expect human ones to rival the semi-divine.’

‘I can dream. Somebody’s might.’

‘Then you’d better get yourself taken prisoner by the Turks and extend your acquaintance with male anatomy.’

‘Tsk. At least I’ll now have the chance. And isn’t that odd.’

‘What?’

‘That Old Cronos is letting me go play with Zeus in Carniola without so much as a caveat. Just like he let me go with you to Glottenburg over Christmas. But he set Cerberus between me and Tarlenheim.’

‘Maybe he thought you’d cause serious damage to respect for the House of Elphberg in Ober Husbrau.’

Willi sat up frowning. ‘There’s more to it. And once we’re back ...’

‘And half the janissary legions of the Grand Signior have had their way with you in Constantinople ...’

‘Yes, after that, I’m going to get to the bottom of it, I swear.’

***

The second meeting of Prince Henry’s military council took place in a Presence Chamber hung with maps. General Dudley, as the officer present with the most knowledge of the Empire’s dispositions and military organisation in Hungary, presented his understanding of the current situation. Serge found him rather impressive.

‘So, your royal highness and gentlemen,’ he concluded, ‘we have pledged to march down the coasts of Croatia and Dalmatia. But it is difficult terrain with hazardous and exposed coastal routes, and at the southern end of the road we are taking is the Republic of Ragusa. My sources in his imperial majesty’s council of war tell me that the emperor hopes the Catholic League will seize Dubrovnik itself. Though the republic is in theory a joint protectorate of the Empire and the Grand Signior, it is offering aid and support to Mehmed Pasha, the youngest son of that Mustafa Pasha who recaptured Belgrade for the Signior. The Empire cannot attack the republic to punish it for its treachery, sire, even if it had the troops. But the League can.’

Prince Henry was leaning forward on his throne at this point. ‘What is known of this Mehmed Pasha, general?’

‘Sire, he is a youth not much more than your own age, but other than that very little apart from the fact that he is a commander of some enterprise. He has established himself with a considerable force on the Empire’s flank at Antivari, and has assembled a mercenary fleet whose activities in the Adriatic are beginning to alarm the Venetians. He raided as far north as Istria last autumn.’

‘Which no doubt explains the Venetian military support for the League.’

‘Indeed, sire.’

The prince pondered a while then thanked Dudley, adding ‘We need to consider carefully, gentlemen, the difficulties an assault down the coasts of Croatia and Dalmatia will entail. I will be taking your advice under consideration over the next few days.’

***

Serge said his farewells to Jan Lisku in his workroom at Engelngasse. He was in his uniform as major of the Prinzengarde. ‘And so finally, dear Janeczu, this sealed document is my last will and testament.’

‘Oh sir.’ The man looked saddened.

‘Better done now than scribbled on a scrap of paper the night before battle, as I hear often happens. There’s not much for me to leave other than personal effects and my limited amount of mobile assets. But still, best be tidy.

‘As for Gottlieb, I leave you to manage the man as best you may. I know you think I should discharge him as an unnecessary expense in my absence, but it would not be right to do so in my opinion. Just find ways to keep him busy. He does have some gifts in joinery I observe and his brother is willing to help for a consideration, so I’d suggest you have them demolish the present stable in my absence, and replace it with a larger and more suitable building.’

Jan chuckled. ‘And turn the barn into a proper children’s refuge, my lord?’

Serge laughed in turn, then took on a serious air. ‘This is farewell then, my oldest friend. Let me give you the Nachelnik’s blessing.’

He took Jan’s face between his hands, said the words and kissed him on the forehead. Then the young men hugged hard. ‘So! Off then. Margrit must have finished stuffing those two boys with Shrovetide cake.’ Shouldering his saddlebags, Serge clumped and jingled down the stairs and out into the yard. There Andreas and Karl, now sturdy youths in the white and blue uniform of the Prinzengarde, were astride Jennet and Brunhild, leading the two new mares as packhorses. Serge mounted Erebus. Acheron and Serge’s third black stallion, whom he had named Orcus, were at the Arsenal in the care of a military servant Lorenz Barkozy had been kind enough to loan from his half-company.

‘He’s also taking care of Ensign Boromeo and Onyx,’ the captain confided, ‘but there’s more chance the man will be paid regularly by yourself, my lord, and he would welcome the work.’

Serge looked around his home and felt some wrench at leaving, but it seemed that a military career had finally sucked him in, as it had most of the rest of his family. With Margrit and Cecile waving handkerchiefs, the riders clattered under the arch and out on to Engelngasse, a journey of some 280 miles ahead of them to Laibach, through Upper Austria, Styria, and Carinthia. It was the 19th day of February, Shrove Tuesday, and General Dudley’s careful schedule, which he and Serge had drafted and published to the quartermasters and provost marshals of the army, had the head of the Ruritanian column arriving at Laibach on the third Friday of Lent, the 14th day of March. One of Serge’s saddlebags carried a leather case stuffed with annotated maps and quartermasters’ report forms. Whether their allies in the Catholic League would be as organised and prompt was an as yet unanswerable question.

Instead of turning down Domstrasse to the Neustadt that morning, Serge led his small cavalcade up to the abbey of St Waclaw and took the lane that led down its west side. As they were passing the Veronkenkirche they were hailed by Father Waxmann, who seemed to have had some intelligence they would be passing by.

‘My lord!’ he called. Serge reined in and politely removed his hat, as did Andreas and Karl behind him. The father continued. ‘I just want to wish you good fortune in the cause in which you have enlisted, and to take a proper farewell of your two boys.’

‘By all means, father,’ Serge replied. ‘If you will dismount, Andreas and Karl, I believe Father Waxmann wishes to give you a blessing.’

The two slid off their mounts and stood in front of the father, heads bowed. He placed a hand on each of their heads and prayed briefly, then commended them to the care of God and with tears in his eyes insisted that they must come back safely. He also gave them medals of St Fenice, which he said had been blessed by the cardinal archbishop of Strelsau.

‘And my blessing to you too, my lord,’ he said, looking up at Serge. ‘These are the strangest of days.’

‘How so, father?’

‘Had you not heard, sir? They say a vision of St Fenice was seen in the Fenizenkirche on the Graben two days ago, and that she worked a miracle in the Platz in broad daylight, chastising felonious members of the Franciscan convent of the Reformatory. The church has been full since, what with the troops going off to war as well. The good lady saint’s image is in a forest of lit tapers in my Veronkenkirche.’

The two boys exchanged sharp glances and mounted up again. All three riders trotted on down the hill where below them was laid out the great star of the Arsenal fort and barracks, with a tented camp in the fields beyond where the remaining regiments of the army of the Catholic League were assembled ready to march to meet the Glottenburgers at the grand muster at Ostberg.

***

Serge encountered Willi as he was striding across the vast parade ground of the Arsenal, heading for the commandant’s lodgings, above which the banner of the Crown Prince was now flapping. He was not at all surprised to discover that Willi had not got into the military mood, and was in his usual road gear: a leather coat over a colourful sprigged waistcoat, a fine lace fall at his neck and an incongruous broad-brimmed straw hat on his bewigged head.

‘My dear! You do look good in your regimentals. You know, I’m at a loss. Old Almaric tells me that the ritual of lever and coucher is suspended while Zeus is in the field. It’s been the routine of my life for so long now. I’d be collecting a salary for no work at all, if they’d ever paid me any. What am I to do with myself?’

‘Follow me, Willi dear. I feel sure your cousin would like nothing better than to have you at his elbow. You so disconcert all those generals and colonels of his.’

The pair entered the long limestone building through its pedimented porch, where four large Mittenheimer grenadiers were on guard. Within, the entrance hall was full of suitors soliciting audiences with the prince or one of the general officers. Serge was recognised by the Prinzengarde officers keeping the doors of the prince’s chambers and admitted. He and Willi found a scene in progress on the other side. Prince Henry and the Lady Ulrica were in hot argument.

She spun on Willi. ‘You tell the damned man, Wilhelm. If he thinks I’m staying behind in Strelsau he has another thing coming. If you can ride alongside your beloved Phoebus, what’s to stop me riding with Henry! Eh?’

Willi was only momentarily disconcerted. ‘Well frankly, Rica, you’d be a damned sight better in a fight than I would, for sure. So I entirely agree with you if this argument is about accompanying the army of the League into Carniola.’

Prince Henry was still smouldering. ‘What say you, Serge?’

‘Er ... look at it like this, sire. There’s little danger involved in the march to Laibach, and frankly Rica left behind in the Marmorpalast would be exposed to intrigue in the Hofburg against her. So I would say that there is every reason why you should take her with the army, other than the fact that we would all miss her if she stayed behind.’

‘There!’ the lady cried triumphantly. ‘The voice of Reason as ever.’

‘Though of course,’ Serge continued, ‘different questions would arise if Rica decided she would ride with you after the beginning of the campaign, in view of your standing orders already being placarded in the army.’

‘Hah!’ the prince responded. ‘Reason cuts both ways it seems. Well said, Phoebus. Very well Ulrica, you’ll join us on the road south, but only as far south as Laibach, you understand.’

She made a low curtsey and left smiling.

The prince shook his head. ‘I foresee more problems ahead, gentlemen, and I don’t mean military ones.’

***

Karl and Andreas led the horses to the stable block belonging to the Prinzengarde. Since none of the mares were in heat they were assigned stalls at the far end of the block. Karl ambled off with Erebus to see if he could find Onyx, Acheron and Orcus, while Andreas took off his coat and waistcoat and got busy removing the mares’ harness and brushing them down. Brunhild swung round and nuzzled him affectionately. He kissed her nose. There were times when he could almost read her the way Karl did, and she seemed very excited at being among so many other horses. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the stable scents.

Karl returned having said hello to his other equine friends, and helped Andreas settle and water the four and cover them with blankets. Following that, they wandered out into the fort to see the sights. Out of the cavalry barracks they found several companies of the Mittenheimer Musketeer Guard drilling on the parade ground, and settled on a bank to watch. A dozen drummer boys in green laced coats, some younger than they were, were beating the ‘rubba-dub-dub’ of the quick march at the head of the column. At the conclusion of the exercise the boys were dismissed as the companies marched off the ground. One of them headed in their direction. As he got closer, he took off his laced hat and the straw hair and toothy grin underneath it were immediately familiar, though the gaps in the teeth that had once been there were now gone.

‘Wilchin!’ cried Andreas.