A few days passed in Dresden. I wore my cuirass everywhere to show my status, and I sold my leather jerkin and added it to the money we had pooled from selling Elisabeth’s horse. Elisabeth was in the baggage train with the women and servants, and she had begun sewing clothes for the women who brought children with them to wear over the winter. They sold for less than a kreuzer but she was able to sustain herself on that income plus what I gave her from my pay, which was about one kreuzer a week. I often visited her to recreate what had happened on the child’s bed, days previously.

Some of the men in my company were interested to hear about witch hunting. They were all good Catholics and they respected me for my past services, but I hated them for it. I didn’t want to be reminded of the things that I’d done, and I certainly didn’t want to remember that Godke would be searching for a way to kill me and get away with it. Johann was tactful enough not to press me for details on my past and I came to trust him. I let him know that Godke was out there somewhere, looking for me. If I died mysteriously, perhaps he would avenge me and look after Elisabeth.

Sometimes he took me outside the city with a few men and we would practice our swordcraft. Despite my own experience with Joyeuse, at first I found myself heavily bruised from body blows inflicted by our wooden practice swords. Fighting professional soldiers was different to escaping pitchfork-armed farmers and even town guardsmen, and my time with the warband had not prepared me for the trials of a true warrior. Yet I was not disheartened, for this was why I had joined Wallenstein’s Imperial army. I knew from Leipzig that Godke was the better swordsman, and that was to be expected as he’d taught me everything I knew. Johann taught me fresh techniques, soldiers techniques, and at last I began to feel improvements in my style that might just be able to give me the edge over Godke.

‘You’ve improved,’ Johann said to me after several straight days of muscle-burning, sword-shattering training. We were duelling with the wooden practice swords on a field outside Dessau as we had done on several occasions, though the other men had already returned to the city as it was late in the afternoon.

‘You’ve taught me the way of the battlefield,’ I said, but Johann shook his head.

‘I’ve taught you the way of your battlefield,’ he said. He swung at me with his sword and I blocked it, but with Johann’s gargantuan size came immense strength and he overpowered my tired sword arm and smacked me on the shoulder. I winced and he continued. ‘Your battlefield: the space between you and your opponent. The way of the battlefield involves thousands of opponents, tens of thousands.’

I sighed and threw my dented sword on the tall grass, falling beside it in exhaustion. ‘I don’t need to know about artillery ranging or the difference between heavy cavalry and light cavalry to beat Godke in a duel.’

‘You’re a soldier now,’ Johann reminded me. ‘One day this knowledge might be useful.’

Thus Johann imparted upon me his wealth of knowledge and experience regarding pike and shot tactics. He taught me that the army could be divided into four slices: the pikemen, the gunmen, the cavalry and the artillery. The gunmen formed the bulk of the army and they did most of the damage, but they were vulnerable to a cavalry charge or harrassment and so most armies maintained a large number of pikemen to protect their gunmen. The purpose of cavalry was to disrupt their opponents’ gunmen and, if possible, their artillery. The artillery functioned similarly to gunmen, but was difficult to move and longer-ranged so it was usually kept at the rear of the battle, shielded by distance. I listened as intently as my fatigued body would allow, and I’m glad that I did, for history may have taken a very different course if I had not learned from Johann’s teachings.

Eventually word reached Wallenstein that Mansfeld’s army was on the move from the Hanseatic City of Lubeck. He was heading down the eastern bank of the Elbe and we were to relocate to Magdeburg, the army’s headquarters, to secure it against the Protestant threat. That was when I realised that I’d be fighting a man I had first met as a small boy many years ago in Pilsen, a man who had razed the country of East Frisia, and who had taken up the Protestant cause despite his own Catholic faith. Godke still weighed on my mind, but I doubted if he would try anything while I was surrounded by soldiers sworn to protect their fellows. Instead, finally, the prospect of battle weighed on my mind, and as I saddled Tencendur and we hit the road west to Magdeburg I realised that we were going to war.

Travelling to Magdeburg took five full days. Previously, the warband would have covered such a distance in three at most, but an army moves only as quickly as its slowest member. We were carrying artillery and trailing women and servants. I was mounted upon Tencendur and found myself having to constantly slow him down to avoid outpacing the rest of my company. Johann rode beside me and he seemed to find no issue with the speed at which we were travelling.

We passed Leipzig on the road, but Wallenstein took us around the city, probably knowing full well that 16,000 men passing through Leipzig would wreak havoc on the town. The army was joined by more men every day, and when we arrived at Magdeburg we were greeted by hundreds of Westphalian soldiers who sought to join the army. Christmas neared and Wallenstein declared that the army would not move again until the new year, an announcement that was met with popular support.

Despite this, Wallenstein constantly sent out detachments to secure the surrounding area. Several thousand men were sent to nearby Aschersleben and Halberstadt for billeting to ease the burden on Magdeburg. We heard that Mansfeld’s Protestant army had passed through Schwerin in Mecklenburg and the sense of impending battle began to mount. It was probably still months away, but the prospect was accompanied by a feeling of inevitability which replaced the idleness of Dresden.

I was not happy about being back in Magdeburg, but such a manoeuvre was to be expected. The army was patrolling the western side of the Elbe in search of an advantageous position to commence a battle with the Danes, and Magdeburg was home to the army’s headquarters. Johann and I maintained our rigorous schedule designed to improve my swordsmanship, and during the weeks we were at Magdeburg I even managed to best the giant on a few occasions.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Eventually those weeks turned into months, but every day at noon without fail I sought the army’s couriers in hope of a response from Fleur. None arrived, even as Christmas dawned and many a great feast was hosted throughout Magdeburg.

Evergreen ornaments decorated the banquet tables and the evening saw much dancing and singing. I did not participate, and, as Jacob always had, I sought the solace of my own solitude. That Christmas was a time of solemn reflection for me, and while most men revelled I instead found myself at the Confessional inside the local Catholic church. The Archbishop and the higher ranking priests were all absent from the church as was to be expected on such an important occasion, but upon entering the confessional I was pleased to find that there was nonetheless a man of God on the other side of the lattice. I knelt and the priest closed the door to my compartment.

‘What burdens you?’ he asked through the veil. His voice was a whisper, and I responded in kind.

‘I have done terrible things,’ I told the man. I was not overly emotional, but obviously something had possessed me to confess on Christmas night of all nights. I know now that it was a symbolic gesture: I was reaffirming my faith, and using my time with the Catholic army as evidence to prove to myself and to God that I could be a righteous man.

‘Such as?’

I sighed. I didn’t want to mention witch hunting because that was supported by the Papacy and I wanted to confess my sins, not be applauded for them. ‘Murder. Torture. Theft.’

‘Sins most dire.’

‘Yes, father,’ I said.

‘Do you wish to confess?’

‘Yes, father,’ I said again, and so I confessed. I listed all of my sins, both mortal and venial. I included that I lived in sin with Elisabeth. I did not include my intention to duel Godke.

The confession was a lengthy ritual. Eventually, the priest promised that I was absolved of the possibility of eternal damnation, but not of temporal punishment. For that, I needed to atone. He made me swear that I would no longer live in sin, and asked me for a donation to the church. As I left the small stone building I dropped two kreuzers into the donation bowl in order to be properly absolved of my sins and seek God’s support in my crusade against Godke. Then I went to Elisabeth and told her that I would no longer lie with her in sin. It was difficult as she was saddened by the news and one look at her sleek face was almost enough to drive me to insanity, but I had reaffirmed my faith and confessed my sins and I was not eager to begin committing them again so soon. I promised her that I would not abandon her until Godke was dealt with and she accepted what I said. I had no doubt that she would be able to find someone else to take to bed if that was what she wanted.

Some months after Christmas, in April, I was given an opportunity. I found myself at the army’s messenger’s office, and I asked the courier if he had received word from Metz as I always did.

‘No,’ he replied, ‘but I have word of Wallenstein’s replacement from Vienna.’

‘Of what?’ I said, confused. ‘Replacement by whom?’

‘Count Collalto has been appointed as the leader of the Emperor’s army,’ the courier responded. I frowned. It was a common rumour among the men that Wallenstein had been deposed, but I could not believe that it would happen now. The Danes edged ever closer to our position and it was said that there was, at most weeks until we would fight them.

‘Give me the note,’ I offered, hatching a plan. ‘I’ll take it to the company staff.’

‘It is my sworn duty to deliver the note in person,’ he said.

I sighed. ‘I’ll take you to them,’ I said instead, and the courier accepted my offer. Suddenly I was shaking like an Italian house and sweating like a Spanish sailor. My plan was a dark one, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through with it. I had tossed Elisabeth aside in order to live a life without sin, but now, mere months later, I thought to commit one.

I took him the messenger through the city centre, but after we entered a street with fewer people around I led him into an empty alley shaded by a tall building. It was gritty and unclean but it was not a dead end and the courier did not question me.

Then I stopped suddenly. ‘Wait a second,’ I said, turning to the courier. I hoped he hadn’t noticed the droplets of sweat falling from my brow or the rapid blinking of my eyelids.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I forgot something,’ I drew Joyeuse and plunged it through his unarmoured gut. ‘This.’

His eyes widened in exclamation as the life ebbed from him. He went to scream but I left my sword in him and put one hand behind his back and one over his mouth to silence him. I lowered him to the ground; he struggled for a few seconds but eventually succumbed to my blade.

I had little choice, the man had to die. Or at least that’s what I told myself in the seconds I had to act. Wallenstein was too important to be deposed, and if by saving his command I had to kill one man, then perhaps I would have saved thousands by preserving his subsequent victories. God would surely forgive me, though I had to restrain tears. I was not saddened by the man’s death – I had seen too much for that – but by my failure to live in line with my reaffirmed faith. I had committed the most cardinal sin, but I had done it for my fellow man and not for myself. I knew that I could live with it.

Not that I wasn’t going to benefit from this. Wallenstein valued his command, and I wasn’t going to let him keep it for free. He’d have me stay in his precious army forever if he could get his way, and I wanted to keep my options open. I’d killed a man to preserve his command, and for that I was saddened, but I had no shame in using it to rid myself of his wage slavery.

I dragged the courier’s body behind an empty barrel that would conceal him from the view of the busier road which led into the alley. I had to be quick because Magdeburg was a crowded city and I did not want to be discovered, but I made sure to search him properly. I emptied his coin purse and found forty kreuzers inside, which I pocketed. I scoured his satchel and found only the one letter, addressed to Count Collalto. I tore it in half and pocketed it. The man carried a good sword but I did not deprive his corpse of it. I pulled my own sword from his body and wiped it clean across his blouse before sheathing it. Another tear rolled down my cheek.

I was dejected for an innocent man had died, and that was why I had abandoned my previous trade and my previous family. I had confessed to murder and then I had committed one. Yet I was also optimistic for an opportunity had been presented and I’d taken it. I had been a man of reaction ever since that day in Bielefeld eight years earlier, and the only decision I’d ever made as a man was to betray my family. It had nearly gotten me and Elisabeth killed.

I was eager for the chance to be put in charge again and to get some confidence. I was doing God’s work, for I felt strongly that Wallenstein was the man to lead the army and further the Catholic cause. The death of the messenger was a necessary burden that I would just have to bear. Just like Jacob had borne his burden, right up until it killed him.