Downsizing

The time has come to admit I'm not getting any younger and my storage space isn't getting any bigger. As a consequence I'm thinking of selling off my ImagiNations' Hetzenberg and Dunkeldorf-Pfuhl collection in 25mm. If there's any interest I'll itemize what I have. 

A Very Merry Christmas!

A Very Merry Christmas to One and All, 

from the 

Grand Duchy of Hetzenberg.

A brief pause

My wife has felt unwell for a while, and will require an operation this week to fix the cause. It's nothing 'serious' but she will require tending for a week or two after. 

In all probability the Chronicles will continue anyway - I can work at the computer a few paces away should she need anything - but this is a notice that things may be delayed. 

Best, A J

Objects and motions

It took longer than Paul expected to find the evidence he sought. It consisted of a sheet of aged paper pinned to a battered square of cork, located on the wall next the study door. From other notes pinned there Paul surmised it to be a means by which the late Professor Knappenburger communicated with his servant. He unpinned the note and examined it. The obverse had a note concerning laundry. The reverse... Paul smiled with satisfaction. Amid many a crossing out and blot he made out the following.

My Dear Grafin,

With reference to your inquiry as to the validity of a marriage between your cousin Graf Philip von Hetzenberg and a woman of common birth, to whit, one Mary Amadeus.

I’m pleased to inform you it is entirely permissible under our law for a member of the Grand Ducal family to unite with a commoner in a Morganatic marriage. Laws on the statute books governing Ducal marriages dating back over two hundred years clearly permit such a formal union. Our forebears in their wisdom saw matters of interbreeding and too concentrated a nature of the Ducal relationships to be clearly unfavorable to the bloodline as a whole. Provision was therefore made to allow fresh blood to be introduced to the family line, although the law has not been indulged in for some decades.

I trust this clarifies the matter and eases any concerns you might feel regarding your friend’s situation.

I remain, Grafin, your humble, obedient servant, I. Knappenburger.

There was no mistaking the Professor’s writing. Paul rolled up the note and tapped it against his palm as he considered the situation. The estimable Bartolomeo Gundaker is fallible, it seems. In his haste to perpetrate his commission he overlooked a draft copy of the very letter he sought to corrupt. He smiled. What makes it all the sweeter, the note was on the back of a missive intended for him!

He tucked the note in his innermost pocket and headed out the door. A brief conference with the Chancellor left that worthy satisfied the professor’s affairs would be taken care of.

That evening saw Paul aboard the coach bound for the Grand Duchy of Hetzenberg. He looked out the window as the vehicle rattled along the highway, and thought of the approbation Ursula would heap upon him for his success in helping her friend. It gave him a warm glow about the heart to think of the radiant smile that would cross her beautiful face.

* * * *

The hull of Styx II vibrated gently with the steady flow of water against her hull as the flotilla rode at anchor in the gathering night. Beyond the little stateroom’s windows the Eissenwasser flowed dark, strong and steady to the sea, with no concern for the affairs of mankind embattled about its banks.

Ursula laid upon Horatio, her arms folded loosely on his bare chest, her feet pressing against the cool wood of the aft bulkhead, so small was the cot in which they laid. She felt sated and happy but, as intense and fulfilling as their lovemaking had been, one question still floated near the top of her mind. “You’re sure we’ll reach the vicinity of Randstadt by tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, beautiful.” Horatio stroked Ursula’s cheek and tucked a stray length of damp hair behind her ear. “We're but a league above Kimmelsbrück. The river’s quieter now the snow melt has passed. The wind stands fair, and looks to be coming farther north yet tomorrow.”

“I hope so. I'm worried about Mary A. Paul will try his best, no doubt, but at the moment only I can intercede on her behalf so she can marry Philip.”

“We’ll get there, and we will help her. Don’t worry so!”

“You’re right, my love,” she whispered, kissing him deeply. He returned her kiss then yawned and stretched, awkwardly favoring his wounded arm. Ursula rolled off him and he moved aside enough for her to squeeze in beside him. “Get some sleep, hero,” she admonished. “You had a long day.”

“Just so, my dear.” He put his arm around her and she nestled close, her head upon his shoulder. His voice sounded drowsy. “We’ll get there.”

Ursula listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, felt the rise and fall of his chest slow as his breathing settled into sleep. She looked up through the stern-lights and watched the night deepen to starry indigo, and wondered what Mary Amadeus was doing, and how they would all fare on the morrow. Eventually, she fell asleep.

* * * *

Several leagues away Mary Amadeus laid in her camp cot, staring up at the canvas above her head. A camp fire nearby cast shadows there that seemed to morph into strange and terrible things. She could hear the sentry on guard outside the fly of her tent, placed there by the general. “I have no recourse but to inquire into this matter, my dear,” he’d said with evident reluctance. “I cannot believe you and Philip would be so foolish as to correspond in this way, but I am bound by duty to treat the matter with the utmost seriousness.”

And so she had been confined her to quarters pending the outcome. She thought of the siege and the plan she’d made which would end it all before many more lives were spent. And now due to someone’s malice here I am, in peril of my life and utterly useless. I wish Philip were here, and Ursula and Horatio! She turned over, punched the pillow into some form of comfort and tried to sleep, but her thoughts whirled on deep into the night.

A spot of bother

Siege operations about Randstadt had reached the third parallel and the batteries had been positioned amid blasts of musketry from the defenses. Mary Amadeus worked as hard as any to site the guns, and she felt pride in the fact they had become operational again within an hour.

The summons to General Rauppen-Schlepper’s pavilion reached her as she came off the line. Repeated salvos from the artillery had rendered her somewhat deaf, and the aide had to repeat himself twice before she understood. She made her way to the pavilion, sited in the headquarters area a safe distance beyond cannon range. Sweeping the tricorn from her head, she checked her hair still stayed neatly in its ponytail then nodded to the aide. He opened the tent fly and she followed him inside.

The General sat at his desk reading a dispatch. Mary saluted as he looked up. “Lieutenant Amadeus reporting, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” Rauppen-Schlepper’s time-worn features remained set in a neutral expression, and she wondered why he didn’t greet her with his normal affability. He reached for his pipe and made a show of inspecting it, knocking out the dottle and refilling it with his favorite blend from a tooled leather pouch. The aide stepped forward with a taper. Rauppen-Schlepper took it and lit the pipe. He nodded to the aide. “Leave us, Wilhelm, but stay within call.” The aide saluted and departed, leaving Mary and the General alone.

“Is something wrong, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m afraid there is.” He opened a drawer and extracted two packets of papers, tied with a blue ribbon. He dropped one on the desk in front of her. “Do you recognize the writing?”

She stooped to examine them and blinked. “It looks like my hand, sir.”

“It looks like yours?”

“Yes, but what..?” She sought for words. “I’ve not written to anyone to this extent. I can’t afford the stationary on my salary. To whom are they addressed?”

“Young Philip, heir to the throne.” He dropped the second packet before her. “These are his replies.”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t know anything about these. Philip and I have never exchanged letters beyond official reports to do with the battery.”

Rauppen-Schlepper pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked weary. “They came into my possession through some anonymous agency. That in itself is bad enough but the content...” He tapped the letters with a stubby finger. “The contents, my dear lieutenant, are explosive!”

“May I read them, sir?”

“Please do.”

Mary picked up the packet, untied the ribbon and read the first letter. Her heart began to pound and her face burned with embarrassment. “They... they’re nothing I would’ve penned, sir!”

“I should hope not!”

“This... this is explicit!” She gestured helplessly to the letters. “I don’t know anything like a tiny fraction of the things herein described.”

Rauppen-Schlepper’s face grew grim. “It gets worse, Lieutenant. The last two letters speak of the possibility of elopement.”

“Elopement!”

“Yes.” His bushy eyebrows came together and he stared at her. “You know full well Professor Knappenburger’s correspondence states our law forbids Morganatic marriages to the future head of state. Such correspondence as lies before you is treason. Graf Philip will not be punished beyond the family’s censure, but for a commoner such as you... The sentence, should you be found guilty, is death.”

Men of Letters

The capital of Saxe-Bearstein was not unknown to Paul Ehrgeiziger, but it had been several years since he’d visited the city. However it didn’t take long to locate the university, and the college porter guided him to the Great Hall.

Paul had chosen his moment well, for the midday meal at High Table had finished some little time before. The faculty were in the process of dispersing about their afternoon schedule, and the porter approached the Chancellor with a bow. “Baron Ehrgeiziger to see you sir.” 

The Chancellor, a full-fleshed man with a sumptuous full-bottomed wig squinted at the porter then Paul through a pince-nez. Paul and he exchanged bows. “Welcome to our university, dear baron,” the Chancellor said. He looked rather vague. “Forgive me, but I was not aware you were due to call upon me..?”

“You must forgive my not making a proper appointment, sir. I had occasion to be in your fine city and took the opportunity to visit you. I had a friend here, Professor Knappenburger.”

The Chancellor looked grave. “A bad business, dear baron, A bad business indeed.”

Paul nodded. “I am indeed aware of my poor friend’s untimely demise. I am also aware that his servant decamped with some of his possessions.”

“Ah, yes. His fellow Pietro seemed trustworthy and few here had anything bad to say of him – up to the time he vanished.” He scowled. “It reflected poorly on the rest of the servants.”

“I’m sure it did, and without foundation for blame. Would you describe this Pietro, and say from whence he came?”

The Chancellor rubbed his chin, dewlaps wobbling. “Of average height, dark, swarthy, somewhat of a gypsyish look.” He touched the left side of his neck. “He had a white puckered scare just visible here. I saw it once when he had his collar undone on a hot day. As for his origin, I believe he claimed to come from Padua.”

“I see.” Paul nodded. Just as I thought! “Well, sir, this man is known to me by reputation. He’s a rapscallion of the first water by the name of Bartolomeo Gundaker. He’s wanted in several states for espionage, theft – and murder.”

The Chancellor looked pale. Paul took him by the elbow and drew him aside, out of earshot of others of the faculty bustling nearby. “Naturally I can trust your discretion. A matter of great weight hangs upon Professor Knappenburger’s last works, dear Chancellor. It concerns a young lady’s fortune and future happiness.”

The Chancellor frowned and nodded. “Do go on.”

“Professor Knappenburger sent a document to this young woman, which we are sure was forged. I detected the hand of the wretched Gundaker in the work.”

The Chancellor’s flaccid features turned red. “Such infamy!”

“Indeed. I seek to rectify the damage inflicted upon the good lady, but to do so requires your assistance.”

“Name it, sir, and if it’s within our powers it shall be done. I wish to remove any stain that may besmirch our good name.” He shuddered. "To think we harbored such a reptile in our bosom!"

“I must view any and all documents remaining from Professor Knappenburger’s papers.”

The Chancellor looked troubled. “I would be happy to oblige, dear baron, but before I can allow you to view these papers I would require some means to verify your identity.”

Paul produced his warrant from the Margravate security bureau, along with a covering letter from Ursula. “I need not point out the young lady’s name must not be spoken of in connection with this matter.”

The Chancellor examined the letter. “Just so. These seem to be in order. If you’ll accompany me, we shall go to the late Professor’s chambers directly. I had them locked and sealed after his death, but it seems he has little in the way of family. It’s proving hard to locate a person who can claim his effects, and frankly, the university could use his chambers...”

“The next stop on my itinerary brings me close to Hetzenberg. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

The Chancellor led the way into the faculty chambers of residence and up a flight of stairs. Once they reached the late professor’s door on the top landing he wheezed to such an extent Paul feared he would expire on the spot. The Chancellor mopped his brow with a lace kerchief and grimaced. “I’m not accustomed to such exertion these days, alas.”

Paul bowed. “Pray take your time, sir.”

Eventually the Chancellor produced a set of keys and tried them in the lock. “I keep them with me at all times. Security, you know. Ah, here we are.”

He let them into the chamber. 

Paul looked around at the comfortable disorder that to his mind went hand-in-glove with academics and sighed inwardly. “I can see this will take some time...”

Liaisons amoureux et curieux

The now-quiet town of Lehmangraz.

“You’re the second invalid I’ve had to tend this month.” Ursula poured two glasses of white wine and handed one to Horatio.

He grinned and shifted his arm in the fresh sling she’d tied. “Who was the other lucky fellow?”

She sipped and eyed him. “Who says it was a man?”

“Oh, just a guess.”

“Well, it’s a lucky one. It was Konrad. He’s on the mend.”

“I’m glad. Nice fellow.”

Ursula snuggled up alongside him on the bed. From here she had a good view out the bay window. As commander of the gunboat flotilla Horatio had a choice room overlooking the naval yard and the river beyond. Parties of sailors, marines and yard workers moved here and there, clearing up the worst damage suffered in the raid. A miasma of wet burnt wood hung over all. She noticed the marines seemed to move with almost manic energy, as if eager to make up in some way for their deficiency in the recent fighting.

Horatio must have guessed her thoughts. “To be fair they couldn’t help it, my love. They were pressed into action half-trained and the enemy took them by surprise to boot. I think they’ll shape up given time and patience.”

“They should have enough of both. The army of Dunkeldorf-Pfühl took a beating, and Randstadt is under siege. I can’t see an occasion arising where the marines will be needed before the end of the war.”

“I wouldn’t speak too soon, dearest. The light infantry raid caught us all on the hop.”

Ursula set her glass aside and twisted around to press closer against his side. She gazed into his eyes and stroked his cheek. “But their mission ultimately failed – thanks to you.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, I’m quite the hero.” Draining his glass he put it on the bedside table and took her in his arms. “I missed you!”

“And I you.” They kissed, and she stroked his wounded arm. “Will you need to wear this for much longer?”

“Only a week, according to our surgeon. The rascal also wanted to bleed me, but I told him I’d already shed enough blood for the cause.”

She lowered her voice to a sultry tone. “It won’t... hinder you at all?”

His smile widened to a grin. “Not in the least...”

Matters had just become interesting when the sound of pounding feet on the staircase interrupted their idyll. Moments later somebody knocked on the door with a rapid tattoo. “Urgent dispatch from General Rauppen-Schlepper, sir!”

“Can’t it wait?” Horatio called peevishly.

“The courier needs a reply, sir.” The man sounded contrite. Ursula sensed he knew he intruded upon his commander at a delicate moment.

Horatio groaned. “Sorry, my love. I’ll have to take this.”

Ursula dived under the bedclothes. “Schieße! What timing!”

Horatio rolled off the bed, donned his dressing gown and answered the summons. He glanced at the message the man handed him. “I’ll be down directly.”

“Sir!” Footsteps clumped away. Horatio closed the door and returned to the bed. “It’s from the general, all right. It seems one Lieutenant Mary Amadeus has come up with a scheme to shorten the siege of Randstadt and we’re required to render assistance.”

“Mary A!” Ursula sat up and took the message from him. She scanned it. “Old Rauppen-Schlepper doesn’t say what scheme she has in mind of course, but knowing her it’ll be a corker! Ah..!” She read the remainder of the script. “He wants you to lose not a moment in setting out.”

“Such is the life of a naval officer.” He eyed her, his expression one of mixed lust and frustration. Eventually he groaned. “The General summons, and so I must obey. When we set sail, will you come with me?”

“Of course!” She pulled his head down and kissed him soundly. “From what I saw of her the Styx II has a nicely-appointed cabin. Once we’re under weigh, we can resume where we left off...”

* * * *

Paul Ehrgeiziger entered the inn, located on a busy road not far from the border with Hetzenberg. It was an establishment he’d frequented before on clandestine missions, and the innkeeper knew him. The woman nodded as Paul ordered an ale. She served him and leaned close to whisper as she slid his change across the damp surface of the bar counter. “The gentleman awaits you in the usual room, sir.”

Paul thanked her and made his way at a casual pace through to the rear of the near-empty saloon and up the stairs. They opened onto a passage off which were several guest rooms. Paul knocked on the third door and entered without waiting for an invitation. The man sitting by the window stood and bowed as Paul closed and bolted the door. “It’s good to see you, Paul. After what happened earlier this year, I feared all was up with you. Your message came as a great relief.”

Paul returned the bow. “It’s good to see you too, Artur. You look well.”

“As well as can be expected.” Artur sat. A portly fellow, the warmth of the day brought perspiration to his lofty brow, and he mopped it with a large lace handkerchief.

“Thank you for responding to my note. Others might not have welcomed my approach, given the circumstances of my... ah, departure from the Margrave’s service.”

“Oh, my dear fellow, to your ear alone can I sympathize! Our new lord and master – and possible patricide – is a sad burden for our poor state to bear. He has us running ragged in an attempt to find ways of winning this war. The army is licking its wounds and is unable to raise the siege of Randstadt. The Margrave won’t be told to cut his losses.” Artur grimaced. “The near-success of the raid on Lehmangraz filled him with new hope, more’s the pity.”

“I see.” Paul doffed his hat and sat down. “He’s not beyond resorting to skulduggery...”

Artur pursed his lips and frowned. “He’s not – but I have the feeling you refer to a particular incidence of skulduggery.”

Paul put on a bland smile. “You know me too well, old fellow.” He leaned closer. “It has been brought to my attention that someone is trying to stir dissent in the upper reaches of the Hetzenberg court.”

Artur nodded. A knowing glint appeared in his eye. “Ah, that. To be fair, that particular piece of business originated with the Dowager. She hired Bartolomeo Gundaker.”

Paul leaned back in his chair. “You surprise me!”

Artur chuckled. “Why so? You know the old woman. She’s as devious as a boatload of monkeys!”

“She has her own agenda, to be sure,” Paul murmured, thinking over his past experience with the Dowager. He produced the letter given him by Ursula. “Pray examine this.”

Artur donned a pair of pince-nez, took the letter and scanned it. After a few moments he looked up. “It’s plain Professor Knappenburger’s letter dashes any hope of this young woman marrying into the nobility.”

“So it would appear.”

“You suspect this to be a forgery?”

“It has been proven to be so.”

“Then yes, this is Gundaker’s work, I’m sure. It’s all of a piece with his methods.” Artur handed back the letter. “You have a sentimental attachment to this Mary Amadeus?”

Paul hesitated. “Rather, I have a sentimental attachment to her friend, and wish to return a favor.”

Artur nodded and tapped the side of his nose. “Say no more.” He mopped his brow again. “Curse this heat! Well, I would advise you discover the late Professor’s real reasoning on the subject. Any halfway competent authority on law would be of help.” He pointed to the letter. “That is merely a delaying tactic on the Dowager’s part.”

“So I surmised.” Paul folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. “But to what end?”