I did not see Godke again that night, and I made the decision to follow the road southeast. I had never been to this part of Germany, but I knew that it would eventually take us to Bohemia, and Bohemia was the only place I knew well on this side of Europe. The dawn arrived, bringing with it tired yawns as we lamented our interrupted sleep. I forced Elisabeth to press on, telling her that Godke would be on the road by now.
At nightfall we arrived at Dresden, in Saxony. The city walls were well-manned and one of the guardsmen asked us our business. I told them that we were travelling to Bohemia and he said that we’d reach it tomorrow. At that point I considered travelling through the night, but the risk of Tencendur breaking a leg on some unpaved road and stranding us there for Godke to chase down was too great, so we entered the city.
The city’s streets were packed with soldiers, thousands of them, and I wondered why so many would be gathered in Dresden when I had not caught wind of any coming battle. Many of the troops spoke with an Austrian accent and carried Catholic memorabilia so I guessed that the army was likely Imperial, but that aside I knew little about their military uniforms or regalia.
‘We should find lodgings,’ Elisabeth said.
‘I doubt there are any left with all of these soldiers here,’ I replied. On the other hand, there was so much commotion in Dresden that it was unlikely that Godke would find us, yet I failed to see how we could stay in Dresden. We could camp in an alley but Elisabeth’s undeniable beauty was apparent to all who caught sight of her and the last thing I wanted was for our daring escape from Godke to be cut short by a party of drunken soldiers.
‘Maybe someone will take us in,’ Elisabeth suggested. It was our only hope but it was faint. If the soldiers were led by a man like Mansfeld then they would ravage every house in the city. If the soldiers were led by a man like Wallenstein then they would be billeted in every house in the city. We could only find someone to take us in if the latter circumstance was true and if there were more billets than soldiers, and that seemed an unlikely congruence of fate.
‘We should start at the poor end of town,’ I said, thinking the soldiers billets would be organised by officers, and officers prefer to billet themselves in nicer areas and avoid the worse off districts. Also, we were more likely to be able to afford to pay a poor family for accommodation than a wealthy one.
I led Tencendur through Dresden’s busy cityscape when, near the town square, I saw someone I recognised. I stopped Elisabeth and said to her, ‘that’s Albrecht von Wallenstein.’ He was atop a horse in the well-lit square and appeared to be consulting with numerous officers and clerks. Elisabeth shrugged her shoulders to display a lack of recognition so I said, ‘I’ve met him before. He was some sort of commander or ruler. I think he’s in charge of the soldiers.’ Our meeting was five years ago and my memory was sketchy.
‘Do you think you can ask him to find us a place to stay?’ she asked.
I frowned. We had failed Wallenstein, all those years ago. I had accidentally killed the witch from whom we were supposed to extract a confession, and he had advised us to leave town immediately. I didn’t think that he would recognise me, but he would likely remember if prompted. I was unsure if I wanted to prompt him: if I did then he would recall my failure, but if I did not then he would likely ignore me.
‘Do we have a choice?’ I responded rhetorically, kicking Tencendur into a gentle trot. Elisabeth and I forced our way onto the crowded town square, and at once people took notice of us as the only other mounted men were officers who seemed to remain on horseback for no reason other than to appear prominent. If they had been pedestrians then I would likely not have noticed Wallenstein in the flickering torchlight so I was thankful for their need to display their status and rank.
Wallenstein and the other mounted men took notice of me as I approached. They stopped talking. I decided to remind him that we had met because otherwise I was making a lot of fuss for a stranger. ‘Wallenstein,’ I said, feigning familiarity.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘Karl of Bielefeld,’ I responded. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes so I continued, ‘we met in Prague a few years ago. I was a witch hunter then.’
A pause. ‘I recall,’ Wallenstein said finally. ‘I recall that you failed.’
‘Alas I was but a child and had very little control over the actions of my warband,’ I responded. ‘I have chosen a new path.’
‘Karl, I’m very busy. I have an army of 16,000 men and there are apparently only enough billets in this town for half that number. Though the town census says otherwise,’ he said bitterly, shaking a document as he spoke. One of the men he’d been speaking to looked away awkwardly.
‘I’ll get to the point then,’ I said, and I felt stupid for I was making a request without offering anything in return, but I had to try. ‘You need to find 16,000 billets. Could you find two more for myself and my travelling companion?’
Wallenstein’s officers scoffed at my request, but he waved a hand before the most decorated of their number to silence them. He was a man with wrinkles under his eyes and a balding scalp. ‘Calm yourself, Count Collalto. A little kindness can go a long way.’ He turned to me. ‘Karl, you and your companion may stay in Dresden tonight, but tonight only. But you look weary and I give you this offer. I am building an army. Tomorrow you may join the forces of the Emperor and you will receive the guarantee of accommodation and steady pay.’
I was discomposed by his unexpected offer. I had only wanted to escape into the German countryside where Godke would never find me, but my decision to remind Wallenstein of our previous meeting had elicited a professional proposition.
As a child I had not been particularly fond of Wallenstein because he lacked the charisma and bravado of Mansfeld, but due to his obvious expertise in micromanagement I began to realise that he was a meticulous commander who had talents for both administration and leadership. That day I learnt that he was also perceptive.
‘I…’ I said tentatively. My instinct was to decline his offer but I did not want to be seen as rude, and I certainly didn’t want to embarrass Wallenstein in front of his officers as that would provoke a harsh response.
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‘Tomorrow,’ Wallenstein repeated. He motioned to one of the idle clerks nearby, ‘find these travellers a billet and their horse a stable.’ He turned back to me, ‘I expect you to pay your hosts for their charity.’
‘Of course,’ I said, though my mind flashed to our dwindling cash reserves.
‘Tomorrow,’ he repeated, before turning back to his fellow commanders.
I trotted away, frowning. As we were mounted on the same beast Elisabeth had heard the whole thing, though she had thankfully remained silent during the exchange.
‘Did he just ask you to join his army?’ she asked.
‘I think so,’ I said. ‘I’m obviously not going to.’
‘Maybe you should,’ she said. ‘It’d protect you from Godke.’
‘That’s a stupid idea,’ I said harshly. ‘Let’s just find out where we’re staying before we rush into anything.’
The clerk had spent the time during our brief exchange rummaging through a number of documents, and when he was done he led us through the crowd to a small wooden house several blocks from the town square.
‘This is where you’re staying,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Elisabeth replied. I was scanning the building. It was appeared as a common German house, though the neighbouring buildings were very close to it, probably because a larger plot of land had been divided into smaller portions and sold off before the houses had been constructed.
‘Don’t forget to pay your hosts,’ the clerk said before returning to the town square.
I dismounted and rapped my knuckles three times against the door to the house. An elderly couple answered the door. ‘Are you supposed to be staying with us?’ they asked.
I let Elisabeth handle the conversation. She was much more personable than me. ‘I think so. Is that alright? We’ll pay you for your trouble.’
‘Of course it’s alright,’ the old woman said amicably. ‘I was expecting to have to find room for eight burly soldiers. I’m happy we have a young couple instead.’
‘I’ll go stable Tencendur,’ I said to Elisabeth and she dismounted. I led the dependable horse to the stables and found the stablemaster, a soldier rather than a native of Dresden. I did not pay him as he assumed I was a mercenary in the army. I made sure to empty Tencendur’s saddlebags before departing, and then I returned to the house.
The elderly couple accepted me into their home, where Elisabeth had already ingratiated herself. The couple were grandparents, but their families had left Dresden for western Germany as they were afraid that war was coming to Saxony. Sadly, our hosts had been too old to manage such a trip and were left behind.
They preferred an early retirement so we were soon shown into our room, which was decorated for small children. There were wooden toys and figurines in a cabinet and there were two beds which were much too small for me, though I did not complain. I was grateful to have a bed to sleep in considering the city’s overpopulation.
I wanted to talk to Elisabeth regarding our situation while there was no one to hear us. Godke’s inevitable pursuit weighed heavily on my mind. Despite this, for the previous two nights my sleep had been heavily disturbed and I was asleep before I could get my leather armour off.
The next day the weather was gloomy, and dark clouds threatened to burst upon Dresden. There was dew on the grass and a chill in the air signalled the arrival of winter. Despite these ill omens, I was in good cheer for Elisabeth had crawled into my child-sized bed sometime in the night and was attached to my shoulder, still slumbering deeply.
I smiled and put thoughts of Fleur to the back of my mind. We were no longer an item, and even when we had been we’d both known that it would likely be temporary. Now that my life was constantly in danger considerations of her secure embrace had become a nagging thorn in my concentration, but I reminded myself of the things that had transpired between us and allowed Elisabeth to remain in the bed until she awoke naturally.
‘Good morning,’ I bid her as her eyes fluttered open.
‘Karl…’ she said sleepily. Eventually she yawned and sat up in the bed. She offered no apology or explanation for her nocturnal relocation. I asked for none; it was time to discuss our situation anyway.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ I lied, but I wanted to do my thinking out loud so I continued anyway. ‘The penalty for killing a man in the Emperor’s army is death. If I accepted Wallenstein’s offer I would be protected from Godke.’
‘I said that,’ replied Elisabeth, referring to our conversation the previous night.
‘No you didn’t,’ I teased and she jabbed me in the ribs. ‘We can’t keep running, Godke knows this country better than us and he’ll find us again.’
‘I’m glad he didn’t find us last night.’
‘He probably saw the 16,000 men in the city and realised that we’d be too difficult to find in the crowd. I imagine he’s watching the gates instead,’ I surmised.
‘Which means that if we leave, or if the army leaves, we’re in trouble,’ Elisabeth said.
‘Yes.’ The conversation stopped for a few minutes as I hesitated, but I eventually decided to confide in Elisabeth. ‘I’m not sure I want to commit to joining an army. I’ve only just ridded myself of my commitment to Godke, and I was hopeful that I’d be my own master for some years to come.’ I was thinking about trying my hand at linen weaving, the trade of my father, but I didn’t say that. I’d be content with emptying chamber pots for a living if it’d keep Godke off my back.
‘It’ll only be for a time. Wallenstein won’t keep mercenaries around for longer than he needs to, they’re expensive.’ I frowned as I didn’t know how she could know the cost of a mercenary, so she added, ‘my father was a mercenary in Gradisca.’ She paused. ‘He beat me. I ran away from him, that’s how I ended up in Magdeburg.’
I nodded my acknowledgement. From Hurland’s teachings I knew that Gradisca was a minor conflict near Venice that had occurred when I was a boy. ‘He wouldn’t be hiring mercenaries if there wasn’t going to be a war, or at least a battle,’ I countered. ‘I’ve never fought in a big battle before. I might die without Godke even having to get out of bed.’
‘I think you will excel as a soldier,’ Elisabeth said, leaning towards me. ‘And we could use the coin.’
‘Good point,’ I said, and it was. We had enough money to last only days or weeks at most and I could trust Wallenstein to pay a fair salary. I had, after all, met him in a mint all those years ago in Prague. ‘What about you?’
‘Godke will hunt me too. I’m worth a lot of money to him, and now he doesn’t have to share it with anyone. I might even be worth enough money to allow him to retire,’ she said, and I realised she was right. Previously we had split our fee six ways but Godke was a solo hunter now and Christian Wilhelm’s reward was substantial. There was also an element of pride, and for Godke to retain his he needed to restore his reputation by retrieving Elisabeth.
‘You can’t join the army,’ I said. ‘But you could find a place in the baggage train. You would be protected by the army, and close to me.’
She looked at me sadly. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’ I was going to respond, but her eyes went dark and she turned away. ‘But I don’t want to stay with you. I don’t love you.’
‘Does this mean you want to leave?’ I asked her. I didn’t love her either, but I didn’t feel that I needed to say it.
‘No. I just wanted you to know that this doesn’t mean anything,’ she said, and then she kissed me.
At first I was surprised and kissed back only reflexively, but then I realised my passion for her body and I grasped it with both arms and pulled her towards me. That morning she became my second conquest, though my heart remained distant from her grasp. We had both abandoned our families and during that day’s murky sunrise we sought solace together, in a child’s bed in Dresden. She was a less gentle lover than Fleur, but I was a less gentle man than I had been in previous years and we coupled ardently.