NEAR THE POLISH BORDER

SCHWEDT, HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE

Talbot Company had been marching eastward for seven days, stopping at every village they encountered to resupply and recruit more men. The company’s funds were by no means running low, but due to Bjornsson’s austerity orders being enforced, the men were no longer getting the sweet treats and trinkets they were accustomed to in Lingen.

Sophia had been practicing sword and battle drills with Don Alfonso and James Fletcher, and had seen significant progress. She had also been rehearsing her marching drills with Fletcher, and she now knew the basic facing commands in Italian and, surprisingly, English, although she spoke with a heavy accent that Fletcher found adorable.

Gunther and Otto were becoming experts at ferreting out Protestants and persuading them to join the company for adventure and profit and had added a large number of trained and untrained recruits to the company’s muster roll. Unfortunately, a few fights were breaking out amongst the more pious Protestants and the more zealous Catholics, and certain punishments had to be meted out to keep things in order. One such pair that found themselves at odds with each other was chained together at the ankles in order to force them to cooperate with one another. Measures like this proved effective at stopping fights but ultimately led to Catholic and Protestant groups congregating far away from each other in camp.

It had been a mere four-hour march from the last town they had stopped at to Schwedt, a town on the border between the German-speaking lands and Poland. The local militia had surrounded the battered walls of the town, under orders to not let anyone but traders and supply wagons inside. The town had been ransacked, besieged and plundered many times over the duration of the war, and the local burgomaster had had enough of it.

When Talbot Company arrived at the outskirts of Schwedt, they noticed that, strangely, other mercenary companies had congregated here as well. A veritable city of tents with different banners for each of the different free companies had been constructed outside Schwedt’s city walls. Irishmen assembling under the French colors, bands of Portuguese adventurers, and the brightly dressed Swiss mercenaries among others gathered around their camps in a sea of tents that stretched for a mile around the city walls.

Colonel MacRae, being the businessman he was, did not like the fact that his competition was advertising louder than he was, and ordered Talbot Company to erect its tents in the center of the camp, taking some of the space away from a group of French mercenaries called the Blue Falcons.

“I want yon fuckin’ dog’s head to be seen from hither to Krakow!” barked MacRae as he gestured to the Talbot Company banner – a white dog’s head on a red field – as a team of his men raised it high over the tops of the tent city.

Talbot Company’s banner flew proudly over all the other insignias, especially because MacRae ordered that a spear be tied to the flagpole to make it even taller.

“Je vous demande pardon, Monsieur, si je vous interromps.” came a voice from behind MacRae.

“Va-t’en! Qu'est-ce que tu veux?” What the hell do you want, said MacRae, turning around. He saw a man with wavy blonde hair dressed in an all-blue ensemble, wearing a shining steel breastplate decorated with gold-leaf. To accentuate his attire, he wore a white cape with fur trimmings. MacRae thought he looked like an absolute fop.

“My name is Colonel Dominique Sauvage, leader of les faucons bleus.” the mercenary colonel said in French, “I would appreciate it very much if your men would kindly stay within the boundaries of your camp.”

“And why the fuck is that?” MacRae said in a taunting tone, “Are your men afraid of being buggered in the arse like the wee jessies that they are?” he continued in Scots.

“I do not understand.”

“Fuck off!” MacRae bellowed in French, “I am Colonel William fuckin’ MacRae of Talbot Company, and me men go where they will! I am not about to fuckin’ stop them from having their fun for some French woman!”

Colonel Sauvage gave MacRae a flamboyant bow and turned around with a whirl of his cape, walking away while cursing at the Scotsman in French. MacRae heard and understood every word, but only laughed and pointed at the Frenchman as he headed back to camp. Sauvage would not take this insult lightly.

Meanwhile, back at Talbot Company’s camp, the atmosphere was one of merriment and anticipation. They were finally going to be able to enter enemy territory after this last stop for resupply. Soldiers boasted amongst themselves who could kill more enemies, and the rattling of armor was heard as Sophia’s swordsmen practiced their strikes and footwork against Warwick’s irregulars.

The tent city almost seemed like a town fair or a festival, with so much going on. Peddlers from Schwedt were hawking their goods to the mercenaries, and there was a lot of delicious-smelling fare that was tempting the noses of Talbot Company’s more unrestrained men. However, Gunther and his sergeants were keeping an eye on everyone. Bjornsson’s sumptuary laws still stood.

The matter of keeping the coin in the company’s coffers was of so much importance that Gunther decided to place the company’s gold under triple guard. What had normally been the duty of a single man now fell to two swordsmen and their commander, Sophia Fortezza, still known to them as Lieutenant Lodovico Bianchi, although everyone except her knew full well that she was a woman in disguise.

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Sophia sat on a log next to a campfire they had built near the treasure wagon. The two soldiers with her, Vincenzo and Fabiano, were Italians like herself, both of whom hailed from Venice. Sophia felt somewhat at ease with them, finally having a chance to speak to people who shared her language, but on the other hand, she knew that they somehow did not respect her as a commander. She ran her fingers through the rings on her sword as she attempted small talk.

“So, gentlemen, what do you intend on doing with the gold we are getting from our little adventure?” she said with a faint smile.

“I do not know,” Vincenzo said with a bored shrug, “Gambling, drinking, and whoring I guess. What about you Fabiano?”

“Definitely gambling, drinking and whoring. What else is there in life?” he chuckled.

“I…” Sophia hesitated, not knowing if they wanted to hear her opinion, “I have always wanted to have my own sartoria.” she said sheepishly, referring to the luxurious Italian tailors found in Milan and Rome that created the waistcoats and dresses of the great and powerful men and women of the Italian courts.

The two Venetians said nothing but lay back against the wheels of the cart. One closed his eyes and the other one tipped his hat to cover his face.

“Hey, you cannot go to sleep on guard duty.” Sophia said, trying and failing to sound authoritative.

“Fuck off,” said one of the men as he drifted off to sleep.

Sophia sighed, frustrated. Even after all the sword and marching drills, she still could not be an effective leader of men because she had could not bring her men to respect her. She held her sword close to her and contemplated her journey so far. She had met a few new friends and gone through several hardships with them, but was this journey an adventure or just an affirmation that she was destined to fail in all her endeavors?

A gentle hand landed gingerly on her shoulder. Startled, she bolted up and drew her sword to strike. The figure took a step back and raised his arms in surrender. It was someone she had never seen before, dressed in a blue doublet with matching blue breeches, accented with a white cape and well-polished armor.

“Who are you?” she said, cautiously.

“Ah, an Italian,” the man said in her language with a moderate French accent, “Good afternoon, miss. I am here to relieve you.”

“Miss? How did you know?”

Sauvage stopped for a moment. It was painfully obvious to anyone with two eyes that this was a woman. But if she believed in the inconspicuousness of her own terrible disguise then he would humor her.

“I saw it in your eyes, miss. They are not soldier’s eyes; they shine like sapphires – mesmerizing and beautiful.”

Sophia, flattered, felt the rush of blood to her cheeks. It had been a long time since she had received a genuine compliment.

“You mustn’t tell anyone, sir,” she said, averting her eyes. “You must be the first person to notice my secret…” Sophia stopped short. Something was nagging at her about this man. “Pardon me for saying sir, but where is your sash?” she asked, referring to the white sash that all Talbot Company enlisted men wore to distinguish them from other mercenary bands.

The Frenchman furrowed his brow, confused, but quickly understood what she meant.

“My lady, I could say the same of you. Where is yours?”

It was true, Sophia wore no distinguishing sash because she was an officer, and MacRae knew all his commanders by their faces, thus he had decided to forego regimental sashes for them.

However, this was also strange since Talbot Company had such a small number of officers and Sophia thought she knew all of them.

“I am Dominique Sauvage, commander of the light infantry. I am not surprised you have never seen me before. I prefer to keep company with my men rather than with the dry and humorless officers.”

His argument made sense to her, although she never heard anyone ever mention a “light infantry” contingent within Talbot Company. However no one really told her much of anything in the company – but they did tell her about her relief, and he was too early.

“I was told that my relief would arrive at dusk. The sun is still up, sir.” Sophia said, putting up her guard.

Sauvage smiled and took a seat beside her.

“What is a few more hours? I arrived early, and there is nothing better to do in camp, I simply wish to fulfill my duty.” as he spoke, he fingered a large medallion that he wore around his neck.

“What is that?” asked Sophia, eyeing the piece of jewelry. The medallion had a dazzling gold necklace with an impressive looking red stone set in its center. Sophia’s eyes widened. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever laid her eyes on.

“It is beautiful.” she said, the glowing red stone reflecting in her eyes. She licked her lips and grinned at Sauvage, “I will play you for it.” she said, producing a tin of dice from her belt.

Sauvage grinned back, “I accept.”

Sophia had forgotten the predicament that got her landed in Talbot Company in the first place. She was unusually lucky at dice back in Milan, but her hubris had caught up with her, running her into debt. She was now in danger of making that same mistake all over again.

As the dice rolled in Sophia’s little tin, she hardly noticed a pair of soldiers sneak into the cart behind her.

“Three ones, that is a thousand points.” Sophia said, her smile wide with greed.

“I admit, that is pretty impressive,” said Sauvage, looking at his two fives and a one, which gave him a mere hundred points. “Fair is fair. The necklace is yours. May I?” Sauvage asked as he offered to put the necklace around Sophia’s neck.

Sophia grinned and nodded, closing her eyes as the Frenchman clasped the golden necklace around her neck. It looked beautiful on her.

“Now, if you will excuse me, miss, I must take my leave.”

“So soon?” Sophia whined, “Stay awhile, let us talk.”

“No,” Sauvage chuckled, “I really must go. Look behind you.”

Sophia whirled around and discovered two soldiers had mounted the treasure wagon. Before she could draw her sword, the wagon sped off, knocking the two Venetian guards over with the violence of its launch.

Sophia chased after the wagon, but could only helplessly watch as the soldier in the back of the wagon opened the treasure chest and began scattering coin at random. Money hungry mercenaries abandoned their posts and leaped at the ground, scooping up fistfuls of coin and brawling over the spilled cash like greedy vultures.

Sophia knew that she could do no more to salvage the situation. Her negligence had cost Talbot Company all its money.