I set up behind a disrepaired wooden fence a short distance away, attempting to do what I had come to do from inside the city. Though I could just as easily see the people who stopped by the soldiers' posts, it lacked the comfort and the liberative thrill of being outside the city. Humiliation added to my discomfort, in the act of crouching at the edge of someone's property instead of roaming the countryside. As such, when Melchior left the guard post I approached it. Again, I tried to pass through the restricted area with feigned confidence as my key, but they stopped me.

'I've lost enough money today, lad,' Konrad said.

Though I had originally planned to avoid talking about that in the hopes of the soldier forgetting what I'd cost him, he had broached the topic directly so I was forced to answer him. 'I'm sorry about that. I didn't know you guys were breaking orders.'

Konrad smirked sadly, 'Melchior would have Metz become a Republic of fear. Thankfully the aldermen restrict his authority to the town guard.'

I knew little of what he spoke. I knew that the aldermen ruled Metz, but the specifics of the rulership and the town guard evaded my knowledge. 'When can I leave the city again?' I asked, impatiently and impetinently.

'You can't,' Konrad sighed. 'If Melchior sees you disobeying him, you'll be in trouble as you've never known. If I help you, so will I. I have a family to feed, I need my pay.'

'Is there a threat of war?' I asked. I knew little of what was happening of the wider world, and I resolved to pay more attention. Still, it seemed unlikely that France would be attacked due to its renowned strength.

'There is instability,' Konrad replied, 'and Melchior fears that German irredentists and religious dissidents will damage Metz's prosperity.'

I nodded, faking understanding. Obviously I heard his words and knew their meaning, but I had a child's naiveté. I didn't know that Metz could be anything but pleasantly comfortable. I had just never considered it.

I left Konrad, not wanting to risk incurring Melchior's displeasure should he return to the guard post, and went home. It was too late in the day for me to try something else, but I resolved to return to the issue the following day. I walked home, where I was met by Gunnar and Thies. Their relationship had improved as it had been months since Sabina's departure, and I got the sense that such a conflict had arisen between them in the past. The house was humble but capacious, funded with our food from the spoils of Pilsen, Bielefeld, and a dozen places before them.

Eventually night came and I retired early. I wanted to be up soon after dawn, when the town guard would be at their least alert. Despite my best efforts, Hurland was canny to my departure and caught me at the front door shortly after sunrise.

'Where do you plan to go at this hour of the morning?' he asked me.

'Nowhere,' I said suspiciously, unable to come up with a convincing lie in time.

'That's right,' Hurland replied, brandishing a book on French flowers. 'We're going to sit down, and you're not going anywhere until you've read chapter three.'

I sighed, knowing it was useless to fight him even if I had wanted to. Hurland and Godke had impressed upon me the need to learn my letters, and I had never fought with Hurland. He had the best intentions at heart, and his experience enabled him to follow them through.

By the time I got out of the house, dawn had well and truly come and gone. People bustled through the busy streets, and I became aware that I'd lost my advantage. That knowledge did little to quell a reckless boy's desires, so I walked along the city wall until I came across a different exit to the one I usually used. It was smaller, and manned only by two soldiers, neither of whom I recognised.

I attempted to walk through the gate with feigned confidence as my weapon once more. And, as yesterday, it failed. I became aware of this when one of the guards stepped in front of me, impeding my movement.

'Sorry, boy, but orders are no unaccompanied children are to leave the city,' he said. The other soldier was looking away disinterestedly.

'Please just let me go,' I pleaded with him, running out of ideas.

'Sorry,' he repeated, this time shaking his head. I sighed and gave up, watching my feet tread the ground before me as I put distance between myself and that gate. Despite the failure, I couldn't think of another plan so I returned to walking down the length of the wall. Eventually I came to what was once a cattle gate. It had been blocked by loosely piled bricks and a dischordant mishmash of wooden boards, but time had shifted both blockages, creating small gaps. I was not a large boy, not even for my age, and with some work I was able to shift some bricks aside to widen a gap sufficiently to allow my passage. I squirmed through it, fearful that my uncoordinated impacts against the remaining bricks would bring much of the pile tumbling down upon me.

Thankfully this didn't occur, and I stood, free, on the other side of the wall. I wiped some particles from my clothing and took a look around. I knew where I was because to find the cattle gate I'd walked along the wall. I followed it in reverse to find the main entrance to the city, the one I had previously used to exit the town.

I considered briefly that I was putting a lot of effort into doing something illicit, but it did not worry me unduly. There was precious little to do in Metz when Godke and Hurland were too busy to teach me, but its location on the crossroads between France, Germany and the Low Countries made its visitors diverse and interesting. Watching them arrive and leave gave me something to speculate on, though at times I longed for a companion to share my thoughts with.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I soon reached the knoll upon which I had often watched the passers-by. I sat in the tall grass and watched for a few hours. It was almost winter and the number of travellers was decreasing steadily as the days grew colder. A chill went down my extremities and I pledged to bring a cloak with me to the knoll at my next visit.

Eventually I grew hungry and this came to outweigh my thoughts at having to walk back to the cattle gate and squirm through it. Once through the gate, I stopped to dig up some dirt from nearby and pile it in the gap that I'd widened so that it would be less obvious. I had no reason to suspect that Melchior would be retracting his order anytime soon, and so I sought to protect the route of my escape.

As I walked into the city proper, people were abuzz with the news of a large battle to the east. We'd been in the Republic for over a year at that point, and word had just reached us that the Bohemian Protestant army had been defeated. There had been a big battle of sixty thousand men and the Catholics had won the battle and were restoring Catholicism to the Kingdom of Bohemia. Though I was sad that Mansfeld had been defeated, I was gladdened to learn that Mansfeld had not been present at the battle. My naïve fourteen year old mind felt that if he had been at this White Mountain where the battle was fought, Mansfeld probably would have won it for the Protestants. I also learnt that Pisek had been ravaged during the war, which saddened me as I had been fond of its ancient heritage.

Soon after word reached Metz about the Battle of White Mountain, Godke learned that a witch had been discovered in Prague. Even better, the witch was a burgher, and it was the knowledge of the witch’s wealth that spurred Godke into action.

‘Quickly,’ he commanded us. ‘We must leave immediately, lest some other witch hunter arrive in Prague before us.’

The warband scrambled to get ready in time, and it took more than a day for us to collect our belongings or forward pay our rent and saddle our steeds. I was sad to be saying goodbye to Metz, but no more sad than I had been leaving Pisek behind and so I mounted Grane and left the city.

Godke led us all the way back to Bohemia, to its capital, Prague. The journey was shorter than the previous trek across Bavaria because I had my own horse and Ros’ carriage was less heavily laden by coin and treasure, and we arrived early in the year 1621. I was eager to start hunting witches again. I’d only ever seen the one witch put to death and though I had learnt to fight and ride in the subsequent two years, I had become Godke’s acolyte so that I might learn how to hunt witches.

Prague was probably the largest city I’d ever been in, even larger than Metz. Though the inhabitants spoke the still mostly unfamiliar Bohemian language, there were traces of foreign tongues in every street and tavern, and the cosmopolitan nature of the metropolis intrigued me. The city was comprised of more than residences and businesses, there were also institutions of learning, of lending, of art and of culture. It was shocking to me that we had stayed in Bohemia so long but never once travelled to this overwhelming wonderland of wealth and opportunity.

I attempted to restrain my sense of awe. We were in Prague for business, after all. Once we stabled our horses and ensured that the tavern had enough beds for all of us, it was time to get started.

Godke took me and Hurland to meet the man who had summoned us to Prague. He was not to be found at any royal palace, instead, based on Godke’s sources we headed to the mint. A man with dark brown hair and a triangular beard exceeding Mansfeld’s in length greeted us with a deliberate, restrained smile.

‘Hello and welcome to Prague!’ he said. ‘I am Lord Albrecht von Wallenstein.’

‘Godke.’

‘Hurland.’

‘Karl,’ I responded in turn, and from there Godke took control of the conversation.

‘Lord Wallenstein… I believe it was you who called for the services of a witch hunter?’

‘Yes,’ Wallenstein responded. While he talked with Godke, I looked around the room. There were several wooden desks around the room and on most of them were dozens of books and stacks of unbound paper. Numbers seemed to dominate the writing on the paper, and I realised that Wallenstein was sorting out his troops’ salaries.

‘Who is the witch?’ Godke asked.

‘He is a burgher who led the revolt that stood against me, the Emperor, the Church, and the Habsburg family. Yet I can find no evidence of his involvement. I plan to execute several dozen revolutionary leaders by summer, and I seek your involvement for this man to die with his fellows.’

This meant that he sought expediency, as summer was mere days away.

‘What signs of witchcraft has the man shown?’ Godke asked, and this elicited a scowl from Wallenstein.

‘Do you want me to do your job for you? I’m simply informing you that I need a legal reason for his execution, and that I will pay you for providing one,’ he said.

Godke sighed but nodded. ‘What is the name of this burgher, Lord?’

‘He is called Martin Fruwein, of Podoli,’ Wallenstein said. ‘He is held in the witch house and awaiting a charge.’

‘We shall give him one,’ Godke said, and though he and Wallenstein continued to negotiate a price, I admit I grew tired of the conversation and heard very little of it until near the end when Wallenstein spoke to me.

‘Witch hunting is no trade for a boy,’ he said. ‘Have you considered soldiering?’

I didn’t respond as I hadn’t been expecting him to speak to me. Eventually Godke covered me, saying, ‘Karl is my acolyte, Lord. Soldier or not, he will be a skilled fighter and servant of God.’

Wallenstein raised an eyebrow but said nothing more on the matter. He continued to speak to Godke about Martin. Presumably, Wallenstein wanted him dead for one political reason or other, probably something to do with the recent Bohemian Revolt. Maybe it was just because he was a Protestant. At the end of the meeting, Godke spoke to me. ‘I trust that you learnt much about the art of negotiation, Karl.’

I, of course, nodded my head.

‘Good, and that’s not the only thing you’re going to learn today,’ Godke said. ‘I want you to extract the confession.’

‘Godke!’ interrupted Hurland. ‘He’s much too young! This is only his second hunt!’

‘We’re slowing down, old man,’ Godke said. ‘We’re not young anymore. We need to start teaching Karl to take over some of our duties, he has a spirit and enthusiasm that we’ve forgotten. And he’s up for it, aren’t you Karl?’

I again nodded eagerly. In truth, I was uncertain, but I trusted that Godke wouldn’t send me in alone.