To defeat one’s enemy on the battlefield, one must first till the fields and mine the earth. From there, everything else followed. She understood that well. It was not necessarily her people that needed to be the ones tilling and mining; however, it was necessary that she was aware of who did it and the quality of such produce.
Iron, for example, needed to be of the correct purity, accomplishing which varied depending on where it was sourced from, whether from bogs or mined from the Harz. From that iron then came the bombards and their shots. With the correct iron, these could also be made to the correct purity, such they also behaved predictably, that they could be used on the battlefield in a consistent manner.
Wheat, for example, needed to come from a source that could not be interrupted by the enemy. That, if the path could be interrupted, either engagements needed to be arranged far away, leaving the enemy no time to interfere; or that engagements needed to be close, allowing the opportunity to intervene if the enemy attempted to interfere. Of course, such a matter was best avoided, that the easiest way to prevent an enemy from interfering was to know ahead of time who to call a foe and to establish such trade that, if war did come, the paths would naturally be either distant and defensible.
She had much time to consider such matters, marching at a leisurely pace with Marquess Bavaria as her prisoner. He was dressed in thin clothes, seen shivering, his hair matted and hands always in chains, forced to walk at her side as she rode. While they avoided the city of Isarau itself, they did not stray far from its outskirts, many a merchant heading to or from the city audience to the spectacle, and they carried those rumours with them, outpacing her militia as it ambled along.
If such rumours reached soldiers still loyal to him, then it did not reach enough of them to rally an army. A militiaman and a professional soldier looked all the same to a merchant, and her militia marched in high numbers, with the Duke of Bohemia’s vast army also stationed to the east.
This matter was merely a matter of time, it seemed.
A fortnight brought them to near the River Ilz. It was not an insurmountable river; however, the fortress had been built atop a hilltop here precisely to give the defenders ample opportunity to interfere with supplies crossing the main bridges of both the Ilz and the Danube.
The Marquesses of Bavaria and Dukes of Bohemia of old had found it easier to get along with such fortifications between them. While not the only path an attacker may take, it was the most direct and the easiest to march a large army through. That this fortress had brought the Duke’s attack to a stalemate spoke of how effective he perceived it.
Of course, it had not immobilised him, especially with little expectation of a defence to be found beyond it. Already, he met with lesser nobles of the area, setting the foundations for his eventual rulership, no need to sit idly.
So it followed that, when his scouts reported her arrival nearby, he thought it prudent to examine his alleged ally in this endeavour.
She thought much the same, ready to greet him the moment he arrived at her camp. His accompanying forces, while only a small part, were, in her eyes, equivalent to her own, making up what he lacked in number with professionalism.
However, this was not to be a battlefield.
“Your Grace, please, I have little hospitality to offer; however, it is all at Duke’s disposal,” she said, curtseying.
He waved her off. “Do leave the theatrics for tomorrow, My Lady, this simply the rehearsal,” he said, ending in a chuckle. “I must say, I find it auspicious that such matters have been so neatly tied together.”
“It must be as God wills.”
Smile stretched wide, he stared at for a moment before turning away, clapping his hands together. “Let us visit the guest, that he should be clued into his role for the upcoming play.”
As they walked, she said, “That is, I thought to bring along the bombards.”
“Ah, yes, I heard of their success in your little matter,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“If Your Grace wishes it, then they make take a day to prepare.”
A frown touched his brow. “What was it, only a few blasts a day? Such cumbersome things.”
She tittered, coving her mouth. “When it comes to these things, I wished to instil a certain fear in those vermin, that they would spend all day dreading the next volley, knowing there would be no escape but surrender. I do say, it may well serve Your Grace well, that our guest’s troops know intimately the… effectiveness of the bombards. Of course, if Your Grace desires it, we may rain such hell upon them from dawn to dusk.”
“Oh I do like the sound of that,” he said.
“Consider it done. There is some necessary work to prepare the terrain; however, if we set out at first light, we should be in position to begin from around midday. We should have the shots to last a week or so, but can always send for more if the fortress proves difficult.”
He loosely gestured, asking, “Does My Lady think so poorly of her bombards?”
“I think of what may happen that, if it does come to pass, I am prepared to react in a rational manner,” she said, then mimicked his loose gesture. “Not all of us can seize the moment as Duke does.”
“Such flattery, to think my daughter always speaks of My Lady as if all wit and no femininity,” he said.
She let out a sigh. “Without a father to protect me, it has been hard,” she said, almost a whisper.
Their ambling pace came to a stop outside a guarded tent. Before entering, he looked at her with a certain softness. “A father is certainly someone irreplaceable; however, I do have a nephew in desperate need of a good wife.”
“With such an uncle, I would certainly have no fears,” she said lightly, looking away with a shyness.
“It is merely some idle words, nothing worth considering until our matter is resolved,” he said, his expression stiffening as he turned to the tent.
At a wave of her hand, the guards stepped aside, opening the flaps. A gloom pervaded the interior with only a single candle to stave off the shadows. The warden inside stood up at their entrance, saluting, and promptly left at another little wave of hers. Her personal guard, the knight Ludwig, was the only one who joined them, albeit waiting by the tent’s entrance, as the Duke’s personal guard waited outside, not room for all of them.
“A year ago, your grandfather ruled the Bavarian lands, and none even entertained my suggestions,” the Duke said, his voice quiet, walking to a few steps from the prisoner. “Two months ago, your father ruled, and my councillors feared it too great a risk.”
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Another step and he reached out, raising the man’s chin until their eyes met.
“Now look at what the renowned title has become, trapped by a mere countess, to be exchanged for land as if a prized cattle. I must say, some of my advisers suggested to leave your father alive, afraid of what greatness you might achieve—your grandfather’s little darling.”
Pausing there, he laughed, a deep chuckle which he covered with his hand, yet his eyes showed the broad grin he had.
“Good things come to those who wait. Such a shame, then, that such evils be inherited by the son. Alas, that is the very definition of human, is it not? That we are all to be punished for our first ancestors’ sin. Do not curse me for following God’s example, curse your forefathers. They died knowing what accursed debts they have left upon your head.”
She wondered if he had such speeches to last until dusk. As if hearing her thought, he turned to her, smiling, then back to the prisoner.
“You are lucky the Countess is merciful. If left to my own devices, I would have had your wife and children slaughtered as your father once did to me. What spirit for battle would you have, I wonder? I only know that, in the days that followed, I nearly committed that gravest sin, willing to beg for God’s mercy if only to see them again a day sooner. God is surely good, rewarding my struggle and punishing the sinners.”
With that said, he turned to the door and took a step.
“Enjoy your last days with her, that you soon shall have a long life to look forward to under my… care.”
So he began to walk out and she followed, saying, “You know, my mother met his grandfather and quite detested the man.”
Her anecdote accompanied the pair back to the edge of the camp, where last words were said and a goodbye exchanged, the Duke in high spirits as he mounted up. “You are a great woman, My Lady. Your parents would be proud.”
“My thanks to Duke. Your praise means much to me,” she said, smiling.
As a good host, she stayed standing there until the Duke and his men could no longer be seen. No one else joined her in such a place, much work to be done, but for her guard.
“My Lady, what he spoke of….”
She turned to the knight. “Pray tell, Sir Ludwig, do you think a child is born with sin?”
Whatever he had expected her to say, such a topic was not it. “Ah, well,” he mumbled, trying to recall any sermon on the topic.
However, she raised a hand to stop him. “That is a matter for the Church, not for us,” she said.
He heard her answer, relieved he did not have to come up with an answer of his own, only for him to understand a moment later. “Indeed, the matter of sin is not one for us to concern ourselves with.”
They stayed there in silence for a while, gazes on the horizon, settled upon such distant slopes that would soon be a battlefield.
“Let us inform the captain of the plan,” she said.
The captain she spoke of was the one in charge of the bombardier crews. He had been chosen by his predecessor, a common enough method in such meritocracies as a militia. That predecessor was none other than the old mayor’s son-in-law, who had retired some months ago to a position of training, quite the important position as the amount of bombardier crews had almost doubled.
As for the new captain, he had an even temper and some time on the battlefield. He led the crews with greater discipline than before, yet held their respect. While not a native to Augstadt, his youthful days were long over, having spent about as long in the city as he had in what had been his homeland. A man with a family and friends and comrades.
Young men bursting with ambition were useful, she knew, but so too was the older man who had survived such youthful years.
The next day was spent in preparation for the supposed siege, which most still believed to be the case. There was some joyousness to the young men who thought this a chance to gain some prestige back home, bringing back tales of valour for the servers at the pubs, knowing that their role in all this was rather small. The Duke had such a large force, facing a besieged enemy—had the skirmish with the holed-up mercenaries not ended with hardly a casualty?
Those that knew were the bombardiers, kept apart from the rest, engaged in maintenance on the cannons and readying the gunpowder. Even when night fell, an early thing this time of year, their food was brought under the supervision of the captains, that no mention would be let slip.
Finally, the day of reckoning dawned.
To keep this matter close even now, the bombardiers left before first light had even spilled over the distant hills. It was not a great distance to where the fortress stood, the horses pulling the ten cannons to position by mid-morning.
This fortification was rather different to before, a thing of shorter walls that, from above, resembled a six-pointed star, thick walls slanted, some earth piled up either side of them. The walls were also made from clay bricks, not piled stone. Inside the walls was no great tower or structure, but simple barracks and kitchens and armouries, no longer something which lords built to live peacefully. There were other subtleties in its design that made a simple assault costly—if not impossible—such as protrusions from the wall where arrows could be fired from, giving an attacker no refuge at the walls.
In truth, the captain had no clue how effective their bombards would be against such a thing. If he had to guess, though, his bones told him any siege would still take months, no shorter with the bombards firing. So it was a relief they weren’t here for that.
However, the Duke’s troops did not exactly reassure him. While they had also made camp a little away, they came out in force today, milling around this flatter terrain where the fortress’s crossbows could not reach. A large number. Still, his nerve held. It was also a small mercy that, while the troops may have been curious, none came to interfere with the preparations.
Rather than a long line across for firing at the fortress, they were arranged one wide and ten deep. Such an occasion merited a certain ceremony and so they set up for that.
Close to midday, a horse-rider from her camp arrived to announce her imminent arrival with the prisoner. Thus began the play. The Duke’s troops gradually fell into position, their captains in good spirits as they awaited the arrival of the Duke himself and the other men of good standing.
When she entered the scene atop her horse, prisoner walking at her side with a leash tied to his manacles as if a pet, she saw before her about five-thousand men. There were more elsewhere, of course. Some had been stationed around the other sides of the fortress, to hold the bridges, and some still at the camp, guarding supplies and there were those in charge of cooking and such.
Five-thousand men still made quite a sight to behold.
With his voice booming, as if to be loud enough for those in the fortress to hear, he shouted, “Men, I bring before you today our enemy. He was said to be a great leader of men, capable of strategy, a master of tactics, and with an understanding of tricks and ruses. Look at him!”
She walked the horse to the front of her bombardiers where she then dismounted. Rather than in her riding habit, she wore her uniform today as if to emphasise the difference between herself and her prisoner. Taking a moment once on the ground, she affixed her rapier, completing her look. However, she did not rest her hand on it as she instead continued to hold the prisoner’s leash.
Tugging him along, she walked in front of the Duke’s troops while her militia took up formations from where she’d come, set apart from the Duke’s troops by the line of bombardiers in the middle.
“Look at their hero,” the Duke shouted, gesturing at the prisoner with one hand and the fortress the other.
She stepped closer.
“Does he not strike terror into your soul?”
Another step.
“Shall we beg him for mercy?”
His troops laughed, especially those at the front, sons and grandsons of his sworn lords who appreciated such entertainment out here where there was little to do. Besides, they had heard Lord Isarau’s praises plenty enough.
“Look at him,” the Duke said, turning to the prisoner with a manic grin.
It was that moment that she stopped walking. The prisoner raised his head, no sign of fear nor shame there, and it infuriated the Duke, igniting a fire in his veins that he thought had long died down. It bid him to strike down this cur, already his foot taking a step and hand in the air.
Then there was a rapier in his chest, the prisoner’s manacles clattering to the floor. Chaos rose up, few knowing what had happened, most simply knowing something had.
“Fire!”
Before the confusion even had a chance to settle, there was a great disturbance from the militia fleeing back whence they came, especially the bombardiers who ran as if chased by the devil himself.
The reason why soon became clear.
Even with her ears covered by woollen wads, the disjointed booms deafened her, yet not to the point she could not hear the screams that persisted afterwards—and what screams they were, the cast-iron balls tearing through flesh and bone as if butter.
Perhaps as many as a thousand already lay dead or injured.
After running a handful of steps, Ludwig half-grabbed her, hoisting her onto her horse, and she set off. Glancing back, she caught sight of a flood of men pouring out from the fortress as if they had been waiting for that very signal. A smile touched her lips. However, this was not her nor her militia’s fight.
As for the Marquess of Bavaria, well, his fate was for God to decide. That said, she hoped he would triumph—those bombards would be an annoyance to replace otherwise.