Godke was dead and I was alive, though exhausted.

Godke was dead, Jaromil was dead, but I was alive, and Elisabeth was alive. I had bested both of my enemies, fulfilled both of my oaths, and I no longer had to live in fear. Elisabeth would leave, but I could leave too, and I could go back to Fleur.

I had also played a major part in the conflict still raging around me, but it was not yet decided. The Catholic soldiers were faltering as the Protestants pushed them back from the bridge and began to surround them. The fort’s palisade was splintering under the weight of the Danish artillery and nearly all of the my cavalry had been dismounted and was fighting on foot. Johann was an exception. I could see him steering Tencendur towards the corner of the bridge, trying to cut the Danes off from escaping into the open land near where Godke and I had fought so that they couldn’t encircle our army or interrupt my duel.

I smiled at this realisation and, taking a deep breath to ready myself, delved back into the battle. I charged to Johann’s side and together we forged a great wedge into the side of the advancing Danes. Our progress improved the spirits of the Catholics and attracted the attention of the Protestants, and I soon found myself beset by Danes eager to prove themselves by curing their army of the thorn in its side.

Two came at me from my right and I turned to face them, resetting my footing as I’d learnt from Johann. As one moved forward to strike at me I stepped back from his blow, causing it to fall short. The other Dane stepped forward, and I struck him down before he could find the room to swing his sword in the mass of bodies that was the Danish side of the battle. They were streaming across the bridge en masse and without much in the way of organisation, and often impeding those who were doing the fighting. The second Dane saw that Johann was occupied with his own opponent and went to strike Tencendur in the belly, but I was able to reclaim his attention with a shout and an aggressive feint. He didn’t attempt to parry and instead threw his own strike at my ankle, but I blocked it. I pushed his sword away from his body and struck him in the arm. Joyeuse bounced off of his bracer, but he reeled with the blow, and I struck him again between his helmet and shoulder armour. He collapsed to the ground and I stepped forward to face my next opponent.

Johann and I, accompanied by a few of my loyal horsemen, were being slowly separated from the rest of our army. We had formed an exclave inside the Protestant lines, our backs protected by the Elbe and our flank protected from an overlapping manoeuvre by the bridge, and the Catholics needed to annihilate us in order to press their numerical advantage against Aldringen’s forces. I could see that Aldringen himself had joined the battle, and that was to his merit. Our army’s one compositional advantage was the size of its artillery detachment, and it must have been tempting to stay with them and watch the battle from the relatively safe distance of the cannon deployment zone.

My mind was not free to wander on such thoughts, however, as another Protestant came at me. He was a Saxon, judging by the colour of his attire. Joyeuse felt heavy in my hands as my muscles strained from the exertions of battle, but the motivation of survival and of victory empowered me as I separated the man’s left foot from his ankle. I bellowed in glorious exultation and Johann threw me a smirk, tainted by the grimness of the situation. My indulgence was momentary and I was soon thrust back into the next sword fight. Fatigue slowed me and my Danish opponent managed to graze the back of my right wrist, but I felt no pain so I stabbed the man directly through his eye with Joyeuse’s tip. Blood dripped liberally from my wound but I looked for my next opponent nonetheless.

This time, I found none. For the first time, the Protestant lines were thinning rather than thickening, and the Catholic army was growing rather than shrinking. I spared a glance towards Dessau and I could see thousands of men streaming onto the battlefield from the southwest. Wallenstein’s men. They had arrived in a timely fashion, and we had succeeded in holding the bridge. Catholic soldiers reached our exclave and I joined them in the fight across the bridge into Rosslau. The fighting became less intense as the Danes’ will to put their lives on the line against a force now twice their size evaporated and Johann and I were met by Aldringen as we crossed the Dessau Bridge and entered Rosslau. Artillerymen were abandoning the posts and fleeing and Wallenstein’s cavalry chased them down. Johann joined them on Tencendur, as those of us on foot despatched the remaining Protestant soldiers with ease. The Danes were in full retreat now, and I realised the battle had been won. All it had taken was for Wallenstein’s massive force to arrive to swing the tide of the battle, and after I dispatched a Dane with a pistol shot to the gut I spared a moment to look for Mansfeld among the fleeing Danes. I could not see him through the haze of gunpower smoke and the anarchy of victory, and I wondered if he’d manage to escape.

Such matters occupied my mind only for an instant, however. I had not joined the battle for Mansfeld or for Wallenstein. I had joined the battle for Godke and for my father, and now the debt was settled I felt a heavy weight over my heart. I heard Hurland in my head once more. An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had in pursuit. There was no great lifting of a burden, there was only sadness, tempered by the righteousness of my vengeance.

The Danish retreat became full-scale and not a man was left fighting in formation on either side of the battlefield. Johann offered me Tencendur’s reins, but I told him to keep them. ‘You should be out there,’ I said. ‘Killing Danes.’

He said nothing about my duel, perhaps sensing that some things were better left unsaid, and he rode through Rosslau to rejoin the victorious Catholic forces. I could have run after them but I had no fight left in me. The rain had become torrential and I realised that it was mingling with my tears. I had done my part for Wallenstein and for myself: I had defeated Godke, I had defeated Mansfeld, and I would do no more killing that day.

I walked back to the southern arm of the Dessau Bridge, but stopped when I came across something familiar on the ground. I furrowed my brow and stooped to pick it up. My breath stopped as I realised what it was.

It was a Lucerne hammer. It looked to be Gunnar's. I could not be certain, but it was of a similar size and shape, and had the Three Crowns emblem of Sweden marked into the side of its head. It was possible that there were Swedes in the Danish army as their interests in Germany aligned, and it was possible that a Swedish Lucerne hammer had found its way into the Danish army, but my instincts told me otherwise. Still, I had no proof, and if Gunnar had survived Cologne and made his way into Mansfeld's army he would either be dead or gone by now.

I tried not to let it trouble me as I walked back across the bridge and gathered Godke’s body in my arms. I trudged back towards the fort near which Wallenstein had assembled his command staff. There were gaping holes in the palisade where cannonballs had felled the logs I’d erected to protect the gunmen, but it had done its job. It had proved to be a prickly nest of arquebus fire that had loosed a constant rain of bullets into the Protestants attempting to cross the bridge, to devastating effect. I left Godke’s body outside the fort and wiped the tear stains from my cheeks. The air was half gunpowder fumes and I coughed as I breathed it in but I pushed on until I came to Wallenstein.

‘Karl,’ he said. He was in a cheerful mood and he had a optimistic tone of voice. ‘Congratulations. It was thanks to your warning that I arrived in time.’

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‘You were wise to take a chance on me,’ I said cheekily, and he laughed.

‘That I was,’ he agreed. ‘Aldringen also tells me that it was thanks to you that our gunmen were not massacred by Danish cavalry. I’ll see you promoted to Leutnant for this, like you asked for.’

I shook my head. I did not want to be a Leutnant. I wanted to go home, to Metz. I reached into my pocket and withdrew my coin purse. I counted out three gulden and offered them to Wallenstein. ‘My debt, repaid.’

Wallenstein reached to my hand, and closed it around the coins without taking any. ‘Keep it,’ he said. ‘Your reward for exemplary service and victory in battle.’

I couldn’t help but smile. I was not a materialistic man – and perhaps that was my main difference to Godke – but there was nothing like becoming a rich man in an instant. The money would not last forever, of course, but it was worth food and rent for several years, especially when combined with the money I had already sent back to Metz.

‘Thank you, Lord,’ I said. ‘May I be released from your service?’

Wallenstein smiled back at me. ‘Yes. I release you from my service,’ he said. Then his smile spread to a grin, and I realised that he suspected that I wouldn’t be able to stay away. He said, ‘if you change your mind, do come and find me. There are few men in my army of your initiative and boldness.’

‘Thank you, Lord,’ I said again, and this time I let it end our conversation. I steered Tencendur away from the fort and back to Dessau. I had some farewells to say, and then I intended to go home, to Metz.

I gathered Godke’s body and carried it, on foot, back to Dessau. I found Elisabeth with the rest of the army baggage train. She had not been there long as she’d travelled with Wallenstein, and it was only by virtue of the fact that she’d clung to the forefront of the train that she had entered the city at all. At first she smiled when she saw me, but her look became solemn when she saw that I was carrying a corpse.

‘Godke?’ she asked and I nodded. She breathed a deep sigh, of relief I presumed. Despite my own inner turmoil I did not begrudge her that relief as she had lived just as much in the shadow of Godke as I had those six months.

We collected a shovel and walked silently to a field south of the city. This part of the city was empty as the soldiers were in the north near the bridge and the townsfolk were taking shelter in their homes. I lay Godke’s body in the grass and dug a grave for my mentor.

Elisabeth embraced me. ‘I’m glad you survived.’

‘Me too,’ I said cheekily, though I did not smile. Too much had happened that day, and I was numb. I finished digging the grave and I rolled Godke’s body into it. It was ignominious but I had no strength left in me to carry his weight with care. I covered his body with the dirt I had unearthed and then patted the mound down with the flat of the shovel.

Elisabeth and I stood back from the grave and, despite my dirty and bloody appearance, she put her arm across my back to comfort me. Neither of us said anything for several minutes, though the setting was far from quiet as the sound of artillery firing at the bridge was loud enough to interrupt conversation.

Eventually I closed my eyes, as if praying to God, and said, ‘may he find the peace that we both sought.’

Elisabeth said nothing in response or in addition, but she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small metal crucifix. She placed it on Godke’s grave and wiped some dirt over it to conceal it from robbers. She looked at me, and I took a deep breath and led her back to the city.

‘What are you going to do now?’ she asked.

‘I’m no longer a soldier,’ I said, though I referred only to my current state of employment and not my sense of identity. Those long six months in Wallenstein’s pay had made me realise that I should indeed have been a warrior of God all along, and not a perpetrator of the perversion of His word. ‘I’m going back to Metz.’

‘You have a lady there, don’t you?’ she asked. I had never mentioned Fleur but Elisabeth was perceptive and I nodded. I briefly considered trying to find Gunnar, but the small chance that he'd survived both Cologne and then Dessau, and that I'd manage to find him, was easily countered by the certainty of Fleur's warm embrace. ‘I have no one,’ she said.

I took a handful of kreuzers out of my coin purse and flicked them to her. ‘Find someone. This should help.’

‘Thank you,’ she said to me, pocketing the silver coins. Money could buy anything, if you had enough of it, and I’d just given her the key to starting a new life. ‘I can finally stop making children’s trousers.’

‘You’re free,’ I told her. ‘You can go anywhere.’

Elisabeth smiled again and looked me in the eye. We’d been together for six months and now the time had come to part ways. I knew her well enough to know that she was saddened by our separation, even if her expression didn’t make it plain. We kissed one last time, and I saw her Devil’s mark, and then I mounted Tencendur and rode north, towards Rosslau.

The battle had died down and though more than half of Mansfeld’s army had survived it was scattered in disarray, fleeing for Zerst. Magdeburg and Aschersleben were safe, and as I rode through the corpse-piled streets of Rosslau I passed several of my cuirassiers who shouted my name as they were aware that my early order to charge had prevented Godke’s cavalry from slicing through our unprotected arquebusiers, and potentially saved the battle. I waved back to them but did not speak to them. I was looking for Johann.

I eventually found him leading a group of Danish prisoners through the town. They had been disarmed and were silent as they trudged past their abandoned artillery. Johann called them to a halt as he saw my approach.

‘You’re leaving,’ he guessed.

‘Thank you for everything,’ I said. I had intended to leave it there, but I was emotional. It had been a long day. ‘For teaching me to fight, for letting me fight Godke on my own, for covering me at the windmill, and for being there when I was lost.’

‘You gave us glory,’ Johann said. ‘I’d follow your lead anywhere.’

I smiled, unused to such compliments. ‘I’d feel safe anywhere with you by my side.’ We embraced, our heavy cuirasses clunking against each other as we slapped each other heavily on the back. ‘If you’re ever in Lorraine…’

‘If you’re ever near the Emperor’s army,’ Johann replied and I nodded. Johann and I were both soldiers at heart, but he’d accepted that and would never quit soldiering, not until it killed him or he grew old and fat on the riches of victory. There was a moment of comfortable silence and I vowed speechlessly that this would not be the last time that I would see Johann.

‘Farewell,’ I said, mounting Tencendur.

‘Farewell, Karl,’ he replied, and I kicked my heels and put Tencendur into a gallop. We were going west.

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The ride back to Metz took me almost a week. I stayed in taverns and inns and rode whenever there was light. I had never travelled such a vast distance on my own before but I was grateful for the quiet of solitude. At twenty I felt old and worn out from my experiences, but my life was really just beginning. I was free of Godke, free from the burden of my past families, and I had coin to spare.

As I neared Metz I passed through the fields of Lorraine and I stooped from Tencendur’s saddle to pick some flowers. They smelled fresh and full of life and I came to a halt at the door of my old house, tying Tencendur’s reins to a nearby street lamp. I’d stable him later, but for now there was something far more important to attend to.

I threw open the front door to reveal Fleur, my beautiful French jewel. She was clad in an angelic white dress and was crafting baskets, as was her trade. Her eyes lit up with unrestrained joy at the sight of me and mine at her, and I had no time to give her the flowers before she ran to me and squeezed the air from my lungs. I dropped the flowers and held her just as tightly, lifting her bodily from the ground. She was just as I remembered her, freckles and tomboyish smile and all.

As an irrepressible grin spread across my face I allowed Fleur to pull me deeper into the house. I looked back only to close the door.