Spring cleaning.

I hope to have another episode of the Chronicles ready before the weekend. These last couple of days were spent in clearing my workshed of the detritus of some 30 years of gaming and modelling. In the frenzy (huh!) of spring cleaning I discovered around a hundred copies of Miniature Wargames and Wargames Illustrated, along with even more issues of Dragon, White Dwarf, Arcane, and Role Player Independent magazines. Can you guess I was a big D&D player at one time?

One pleasant surprise was discovering my lead mountain is a lot smaller than I thought. I have the remnants of a large batch of ACW figures, a box full of Plains Wars figures for both natives and US cavalry/settlers, and another full of French Napoléonic. A less pleasant surprise was the sheer number of unmade kits I found. I lack the time and patience to construct and paint these, so I reckon on offering them to my group of gamers. If they don't want them, I'm open to suggestions on how to dispose of them.

The coming storm.

*

The wind was blowing from the south but the heavy concussion of big guns at work made it across the miles to Kimmelsbrücke. Ursula sat and tended to Konrad and listened to the faint thudding, the occasional rattle of the window glass as a heavier than normal salvo sounded. Her throat felt tight as she worried for Horatio, out there on the river, fighting against the enemies of their realm. Come back safe to me, dear one! She thought, wiping Konrad's brow.

He was in a heavy fever now, moaning with delirium. As much as she hated seeing her old friend like this, tending to his needs served to distract her thoughts for minutes at a time. There were few other distractions. The barracks was quiet now the regiments had marched. She supposed Mary Amadeus was with Philip, both of them officers without a command. Ursula smiled. No doubt Mary A will get involved somewhere, to the betterment of all she meets.
The doctor entered the room and came to the bedside. He took Konrad's wrist and timed his pulse by a fat fob watch, making soft tching sounds under his breath. "What's the verdict, doctor?" Ursula asked.

The doctor tucked Konrad's arm under the blanket and looked thoughtful. "The crisis draws near, Excellency. He's a strong man, healthy too. With luck and the blessing he should pull through, but the next few ours are critical. Continue as you are doing. It's all anyone can do now." He sketched a bow to her. "For myself I must leave. I'm attached to the army and must hasten to catch up with it before battle is joined. I cannot tarry, Excellency."

"No, Konrad is but one man. If you can help many others hurt in battle then please do your duty. Thank you and good luck."

Ursula turned back to Konrad and mopped his brow. She heard the door close quietly behind her. "It's just you and I now, old friend," she said.

The dull thudding of distant gunfire sounded again and the windows rattled.

* * *

"Bother!" Mary Amadeus exclaimed looking at the horse brought to her in the courtyard. "Do I have to ride?"

"It's best that you do so, dear Mary," Philip said, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin. "The roads north of here are not really suitable for carriages."

"I've only just recovered from the last mad ride I had to make," she grumbled, giving him a scathing look before stepping up onto the mounting block. "My body won't forgive me this, I'm sure."

"We only have to ride some ten miles," Philip replied, mounting his own steed, a snapping black stallion.

"Only, he says!" Mary sighed and straddled the horse, thankful she was wearing britches. He attire had drawn more than one scandalized stare but she quickly grew used to them. With all the grace of a bale of hay she took control of the docile little mare and they rode out together.

Their escort was provided by the Bishop of Guggenheim's Regiment of Horse, the troopers falling back into their customary duty with apparent relief. The town was alive with people thronging the streets, of companies of green-clad militia marching hither and yon. Philip and Mary were cheered as they passed by, and Mary smiled and waved.

"Do we know where the Gravies are yet?" she asked.

"According to the latest intelligence they have but three regiments of foot across the river, with perhaps two squadrons of hussars and a gun battery." He smiled grimly. "Apparently our friend in the riverine flotilla has succeeded in striking the Gravies' line of communication. They will receive no further reinforcement, so they must do or die from where they are."

"And what shall we do when we reach the army?"

"I have no regiment to command as yet, but I'll be hanged if I stay safe at headquarters!" Philip shook his head. "No, I'll attach myself to our guns. It's where I'm happiest."

"Me too!"

He grinned and reached over to squeeze her arm. "War can be a grim business, but with you alongside me I'm sure it'll go well."

They passed through the town gates and headed out on the road to battle. Mary rode alongside Philip, her heart soaring at the prospect of striking back at those who'd captured her.

* * *

Horatio dashed a cupful of water from the scuttlebutt into his face and wiped away the sweat and grime. The sting of powder smoke receded from his eyes. He blinked them clear and looked around.

The river was full of debris. Bodies and the shattered hulks of pontoons drifted with the current or lay grounded in the shallows. Ashore a line of tents had been shredded and were burning merrily. Distant pops and crackles showed where ammunition was cooking off in discarded cartridge pouches. Occasionally some brave soul took a potshot at the surviving gunboats of the flotilla. The range was long, the bullets all but spent if they struck the boats, but it was only a matter of time before someone took a hit.

"Our job is done here," Horatio said. "Bosun, we shall retire upriver and recover the survivors from Styx. Once that's done I think we can spare a boat to run dispatches back to town. Hail Cocytus and have her standing by to do so. The rest of us will maintain our post there until nightfall. If the Gravies try to cross again, we shall drop down and interfere with their plans."

"Aye aye, sir," the bosun said, touching his cap.

Horatio thought he looked stunned at the scale of destruction they'd wrought this morning. I know how he feels, he thought.

The flotilla came about and the oars beat the water into foam as the gunboats headed upriver. A plume of smoke was rising from a spot amidst the trees on the west bank. I wonder what that is. We didn't engage any targets that side. They drew closer to the wreck of the Styx, her mast poking above the water. When this is over we shall have to do what we can to salvage her, Horatio thought. If nothing else we should save her guns.

A distant shout attracted his attention. He looked up and saw figures waving from the west bank. A glimpse through the telescope was enough. "There are our shipmates," he said, pointing. "Helm, four points to starboard. Oars, easy ahead both."

They closed with the bank and Horatio saw a large bonfire was burning there, with figures huddled around it. The weather was sunny but still cold. Most were sailors from the Styx but there were others who wore army uniforms. Captain Creighton was waiting on the shore, his uniform crumpled and stained, but an expression of fierce satisfaction lit his face.

"Well done, Lieutenant!" he exclaimed as Acheron's bows kissed the little strand. "Well done, indeed! Those beggars took a hard blow."

His German is improving! Horatio thought, as the gangplank was run out. He saluted the Captain. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad to see you safe."

Creighton waved his arm at the men huddled around the fire. "We lost a good few fellows when poor Styx went down. What was your butcher's bill?"

Horatio walked down the gangplank and shook the Captain's proffered hand. "The flotilla lost ten all told, sir, including Midshipman Kurt."

"The poor little fellow!" Creighton shook his head. "Such is war."

"Yes, sir. I have Cocytus standing by to take dispatches back to town whenever you're ready."

"If you can give me pen and paper I shall make out my report presently, Lieutenant. For now. We shall take our ease for a while. There's a fellow I'd like you to meet."
He led the way to the bonfire. A man stood up from the fire and came around to meet them. Creighton introduced them. "May I present Lieutenant Derigueur, of the Rumtopft Dragoons?"

Horatio exchanged salutes and shook hands with the soldier, noting his powder-stained face and torn clothing. "I'm pleased to meet you, lieutenant. You look as if you've had a hard fight."

"We have, sir," Derigueur said as they took a seat by the fire. Although nominally both lieutenants, Horatio as commander of a naval vessel was the equivalent of an army major and so outranked Derigueur. He accepted a mug of coffee produced by some miracle by the survivors and listened to Derigueur's tale. The man spoke German with a soft French lilt, and Horatio guessed he hailed from one of Gallia's Rheinish provinces.

"We were bivouacked for the night when we got word the Gravies were trying to cross. Our captain got us down to the shore in time to see them launch pontoons loaded with men. Of course we opened up on them with our carbines as soon as they came within range but we were bounced by a company of light infantry." Derigueur scowled. "They must've got across by small boats earlier in the night, and drove us away from the shore. After that we could only mount up and keep what contact and pressure could on the Gravies, but it was galling to see them come ashore in such numbers."

"What have they managed to get across?" Horatio asked.

"Three regiments of foot, including Babbington's Legion, a gun battery and a couple squadrons of hussars. I think they were trying to get more guns and horse across but your action put paid to that."

Horatio gestured at their surroundings with his mug. "So how do you come to be here?"

"The light infantry moved inland with the rest of the army and we slipped through the gap, hoping to get across their lines of communication." Derigueur held up his mug in toast. "Thankfully our pitiful efforts weren't required. We've established a picket line some hundred yards out. If the enemy comes this way again we shall have warning." Derigueur smiled. "For now, we can enjoy our librated coffee and take our ease."

"I'm glad to hear it," Horatio smiled back, liking the Frenchman's capacity for relaxing in the midst of war. "And where are the Gravies now?"

"They're just to the south and west of us, perhaps five miles off."

"Then they shall engage our army tomorrow," Horatio said, meeting Creighton's eye. The Captain nodded. "What are your orders, sir?"

"You have everything in hand, Lieutenant. For now, as the lieutenant says, we can take our ease." He sipped his coffee then smiled. "No doubt our services will be needed again soon."

* * * * *

I've now brought our heroes to the point where battle must be joined between the forces of Hetzenberg and the Margravate. Will, you volunteered to fight the battle by proxy for me. If you can still do so, could you raise two armies of three regiments apiece, with attached light infantry, one cavalry regiment and a gun battery, and fight out the encounter sometime? I'll leave the direction of it to you to fight solo or for you to take one side with another volunteer commanding the other.

Another spot of down time...

No post today either, folks. We refought the Civil War Battle of Iuka, MI, last night, gaming for over four hours and finishing past midnight. You'll understand if I say I have more than a touch of the blah's today.

History repeated itself in that the Union won the encounter, albeit with higher casualties than happened in real life. My brigade had to face two batteries of Union artillery ensconced on a hill, supported by infantry, just beyond the road we had to seize to enable Braxton Bragg's army to escape from the converging Union forces. I knew I was in trouble when that same artillery blasted a fifth of my lead regiment to oblivion the moment it marched over the hill in skirmish order. Two spirited attempts to close with the enemy were repelled without endangering the Yankee grip on the battle. Oh well, the South Shall Rise Again...

A spot of down time.

The 2nd South Carolina opens fire upon the Irish Brigade, just out of shot to the left. In the middle distance Duryea's New York Zouaves clash with a Virginia regiment. An increasingly demoralized Union general watches in the background. Picture taken during a game at New Buckenham on January 2nd.

*

No episode today, folks. I've just completed and mailed the latest batch of forms for my visa application; that headache plus one or two other things has scuppered my day, today. Hopefully all will proceed well tomorrow.

*

The club is putting on a big ACW game tomorrow evening, and I shall be fielding most of Kershaw's brigade (McLaw's Div., Longstreet's Corps, Army of Northern Virginia). It'll be the first time the four South Carolina regiments have seen action together since I painted them all up. We'll be using Rally round the flag rules as usual, a set I particularly like as they give the right period feel to a game. The South shall rise again!

Fever and fury.

Ursula reached the barracks in time to watch the first companies of Regiment Sleibnitz march out, drums beating and fifes squealing, the colors flapping in the breeze. Their colonel was at the head, mounted on a white horse. If he was suffering any ill effects from the wound inflicted upon him by Horatio that morning he showed no sign. He rode, stiff and correct, and even drew his sword as he rode closer to her. "Eyes right!" he called.

The companies obeyed the command in exemplary fashion, heads snapping round to acknowledge her, the officers drawing their swords and raising them to their faces. Ursula drew herself up to her full height and saluted. It was probably not the correct thing to do under military etiquette but she refused to let a small factor like that prevent her from doing the right thing. Some – even many – of these men may not be marching back here when the regiment returns. It's the least I can do.

Once the color party with the colonel had passed, she felt enough honors had been exchanged, dropped the salute and went in search of Konrad's quarters.

The physician and his young assistant were outside the room. The youngster bore an empty enamel bowl and a towel which looked none too clean. Both looked around in surprise as she approached and hurriedly bowed to her. "Good morning, gentlemen," she said. "I'm here to see Konrad Beckenbaur."

"Good morning, Grafin," the doctor replied. "If you would care to wait a few minutes until I've bled him, you may go in."

"You're going to bleed him?" Ursula exclaimed. "That man has shed enough blood for his country!"

"Excellency, it is a recognized procedure," the doctor said in a patronizing tone. "The patient is exhibiting an increasing fever, and bleeding will give him much relief afterwards."

"For God's sake, let him be!" she snapped, pushing the man out of her way. "It's nothing short of butchery!"

"But madam!"

"But nothing!" She opened the door and headed into the room. A fire burned in the hearth but the windows were shuttered. "This place is like an oven! How can anyone breathe in here, let alone a sick man?"

Over on the bed Konrad raised his head and let it fall, as if it weighed too much. "I'd recognize that hectoring tone anywhere," he said, and she was shocked at how weak he sounded.

She crossed to the bed and examined his face, ignoring the doctor and assistant fussing behind her. Konrad's features were waxy, drawn. Perspiration poured off him and the bedding reeked of sweat. "How are you feeling, old fellow?" she asked softly.

"Terrible."

"That figures. You look awful!"

He managed a smile. "Thank you for your honesty!"

"My pleasure." She rounded on the doctor and glared at him. "You! Make up a dose of bark, fetch hot water and a washcloth, and open those damned shutters a crack!"

"But --!"

"But nothing! I worked in the Order's infirmary in Randstadt, I know what's required for a fever. Go!"

Faced with her fury the doctor withdrew, spluttering. The assistant gave her one terrified glance then leapt to open the shutters. It's good to be the Grafin! She thought, returning to the bed. Pouring a glass of water from the jug on the table, she propped Konrad up and helped him drink. "I'm staying here to take care of you, my friend. These boobies couldn't manage a drinking contest in an ale house!"

"What would you know about ale houses?" he said with a weak smile.

"Enough," she muttered. Lifting her voice she roared "Where is that damned bark and hot water?"

*

Konrad knew his fever was rising, and one way or another the coming twenty-four hours would see him live or die. But it's good to have this girl by my side, whatever happens, he thought.

* * *

"We're drawing close to where the Gravies are reported to be crossing, sir," Midshipman Kurt said, looking at the map. "They should be around this next bend."

Horatio nodded. He could see the right-hand curve in the river coming up, the point marked by a stand of willows. "Very good, Kurt. Make sure the lookouts are watching both banks now."

His attention was divided between watching the east bank and keeping an eye on the pennant boat ahead. The hussars were still keeping pace, and he reasoned that their mounts had to be reasonably fresh. There's no more than a troop over there, though, he thought. I wonder where the rest of the regiment is.

Even as he speculated the riders came to the stand of willows and reined in. Horatio saw an officer pointing somewhere inland and soon the troop trumpeter sounded a few notes, the horses turned as one, and the cavalry disappeared beyond the trees.

"There goes our company," he said.

"Yes, sir. I guess they're going to report."

Styx began a gentle curve to starboard, her wake pale and truncated by the strong current. "Helm, two points to starboard," Horatio commanded, and the flotilla turned in succession.

As they rounded the bend the Eisenwasser opened out ahead and they could see the low blocky shapes of pontoons crossing the river half a mile away. A collective sigh went up as the crew saw their foe. Horatio smiled grimly. "Now we shall give those fellows a proper welcome to Hetzenberg!" he shouted, and the crew cheered.

He glanced at the banks. So far no enemy had appeared on the west side of the river, but now he could see a bridgehead had been established on the Hetzenberg shore and the area was thick with the black coats of enemy soldiers. To the east a hedgerow followed the shore some little way up from the bank before reaching a small row of military tents. Ahead, a drum began to rattle aboard Styx.

At last! "Kurt, you may beat to quarters!"

Even as the words left his lips and the crew raced to their stations, a nagging thought intruded upon his mind. A hedgerow?

"Kurt?" he said.

The youth sprang to attention. "Sir?"

Horatio pointed. "Was that hedgerow there when we came upriver?"

The youth stared at it. "I…I don't think so, sir."

Horatio saw Captain Creighton standing on the quarterdeck of Styx, his jowly features crunched up in a frown as he too stared at the hedgerow.

"Something's amiss…" Horatio began to say but at that moment Styx slowed dramatically. Such was the suddenness of her deceleration her lookout fell from the masthead with a startled cry and crashed to the deck amid the gunners clustered around the big gun. Styx, her way checked and sweeps clashing, swung broadside across the river directly in Acheron's path.

"All astern! Warn Cocytus and Phlegethon!" Horatio roared. "There's a boom across the river!"

At that moment a movement ashore caught his eye. Horatio stared as the hedgerow toppled forward, exposing a line of six heavy cannon. As one they gave vent to blooms of fire and smoke and in an instant the air was filled with the thunder of roundshot.

Styx was hit hard. Splinters and whole planks shot up from her bows as most of the salvo struck home. Her starboard sweeps disintegrated as a ball skimmed low over the surface and Horatio could only imagine the carnage below decks. He looked at the bank, where the enemy gunners were already reloading. The 'hedgerow' lay on the ground in front of the battery, and he could see it was nothing more than scrub bushes cut and plashed together to resemble a living hedge. The cunning bastards!

The six-pounder went off behind him, a popgun compared to the heavy metal on the shore. "Belay there!" he snapped. "Reload and stand ready!" He directed his voice forward. "Gun crew, fire when she bears then load with canister! Oars, port forward, starboard aft!"

As Acheron began to turn on the spot he stared grimly at the battery. We need to close and sweep those fellows from their guns or we're all dead!

"The boom's a heavy cable, sir, stretched across the river," the bosun said. He pointed to the bank. "It's anchored over there, to the left and below the battery. It's covered with brush but you can just make it out."

Horatio saw the cable had been frapped around a thick post buried in the bank. It was a formidable obstacle; one none of the gunboats could cross. But at least Styx was already pointing in the right direction. Her big gun roared. The flame of the discharge was a stabbing spear of bright yellow against the dark water. Horatio followed the line of the shot and saw it bury itself in the bank in a great spray of mud. A few enemy gunners fell, struck down by flying clods of earth or stones, but not enough men fell to disrupt their smooth drill. The battery fired again, and again Styx took a pounding. Screams tore the air and Horatio saw bodies – and parts of bodies – fall into the water.

"She'll not last long at this rate!" Midshipman Kurt exclaimed fearfully.

"Look alive, boy, and man the mortar!" Horatio said, pushing him toward the gun platform. I wish we had Graf Philip and Mary Amadeus with us now! He thought.
The new gunner raised his arm, indicating all was ready to fire. "Up oars!" Horatio called. The sweeps came out of the water. "Fire!" Acheron's main gun fired, her hull jerked back in the water, but the ball passed harmlessly over the battery.

Astern, Cocytus and Phlegethon had heeded the warning and were following his lead. Over on the bank the enemy gunners worked with increased speed as they saw the four great muzzles swing to bear upon them.

Cocytus and Phlegethon fired almost in unison. Horatio watched with amazement mixed with grim satisfaction as a cannon leapt into the air and flew apart. The crew fell as one, struck down by flying debris.

"Good shot, there!" he roared. "Sweeps, full ahead! Master gunner, be sure to elevate enough!"

Midshipman Kurt faced aft. "Ready here, sir!"

"Pitch it high, Kurt! I want that shell to drop right on their heads!"

Styx and the enemy battery fired at the same instant. Again Styx's shot was aimed too low and the heavy ball smashed into the bank. But the enemy had her range and their next salvo proved her last. With an agonized groan the bows of the stout gunboat seemed to disintegrate, her surviving crew spilling into the water as she plunged to the bottom. Horatio caught a glimpse of Captain Creighton diving into the river but was too wrapped up in the engagement to pay any more attention.
Acheron's deck seemed to drop under him as the heavy mortar fired. Cursing came from the big gun as a gunner dropped the priming quill with the shock of recoil and had to reach for another. "Watch your work, there!" Horatio shouted.

A huge mushroom of fire, smoke and earth billowed up beyond the battery as the heavy bomb exploded. Horatio fancied he could hear screams but his ears were already ringing from the gunfire. The gunner had the new quill in place and trimmed. Stepping back, he held up his arm. Horatio glanced around for bearings. Acheron was appreciably closer to the enemy shore.

"Up sweeps!" The oars came up. Ahead, a number of gunners saw what was coming and threw themselves flat. "Fire!"

The gun fired. Acheron jerked back. The air ahead of her was filled with smoke and flying metal. Horatio coughed and peered forward. Alongside Cocytus and Phlegethon fired one after the other, adding their metal to the fray. He cursed as the smoke clouds from their guns rolled over Acheron and obscured his view even more.

Yellow light blossomed in the gray-brown clouds and he flinched as heavy bangs and crashes told of enemy shot striking home. Above him the mast was cut clean in two, the top part with the unfortunate lookout dropping into the river.

"Easy oars!" he shouted, stepping up onto the railing in an attempt to see ahead. Acheron slowed and stopped; the gun smoke rolled away downriver, exposing a sight of carnage ashore.

Horatio saw three guns had been stripped of their crews. Some freak of ballistics had spun one cannon around so it pointed directly away from the river. He saw now they were faced with a battery of twelve-pounders, the heaviest guns the Margraf fielded. But men were staggering to their feet over there, still in the fight.

"Reload!" he roared. "Midshipman Kurt? Are you ready to fire?"

"Midshipman Kurt is dead, sir," a gunner called.

Horatio looked and saw the man was pointing at the headless corpse of the youth lying in the scuppers. "Damn!" Horatio shuddered but steeled himself. "Are you ready to fire, man?"

"Yes sir!"

"Then pray do so!"

The gunner picked up the linstock and blew upon it. "Stand clear!" he shouted and swept the glowing fuse over the touchhole.

Acheron bucked underfoot as the mortar belched fire and smoke. Ahead of it the main gun crew dashed back to their posts and began to reload.

Two enemy cannon fired. Acheron jerked as another shot found its mark, but it was too late for the enemy guns. Horatio caught a glimpse of a black streak dropping from the heavens, well behind the battery. Disappointment had barely begun to make its mark in his mind before a huge gout of fire erupted, much bigger than a ten-inch bomb should make.

The wave of flame rolled over the battery, the blast sending men whirling into the river. Cocytus then Phlegethon fired almost by reflex, their canister rounds blasting the stricken battery into extinction.

Horatio felt a hot gust of air roll over him and Acheron trembled with the shock wave. By God! We must've hit their ammunition wagon! He rubbed at his streaming eyes and looked around. Styx had sunk; her mast poked forlornly above the surface. Acheron had taken some blows and a number of her crew were dead. But we're still in the fight!

"Sir!" The bosun was jerking his sleeve. "Look there!"

Horatio looked where the man pointed. A gray blob was bobbing about in the water near the drowned Styx, and he realized it was a man in the water. As the smoke cleared Horatio saw a number of men had gathered along the line of the sunken boom, engaged in some kind of activity. "What on earth are they doing?" he exclaimed.

"They're cutting the cable!"

Even as they watched the small group of swimmers began to move apart, slowly at first then with increasing speed as the current took them. He watched with relief as they all struck out for the Hetzenberg shore. Those who sailed upon the oceans of the world preferred not to learn to swim. Rescue for anyone who fell overboard was a chancy affair and most preferred to drown quickly rather than prolong the agony in swimming as they watched their ship sail away. The river men, however, made it a point of learning to swim. After all, they were seldom more than a hundred yards from shore and safety in the event of disaster. And now those brave fellows have opened the way for us!

The gray-haired man turned and waved, and he recognized Captain Creighton. With a grin Horatio saluted him.

"Bosun, hail Cocytus and Phlegethon. We're going to drop downriver and engage those pontoons!"

The way was clear once more and the three gunboats swung into line abreast and began to forge downriver. Someone aboard Phlegethon struck up a jaunty tune on a fiddle and Horatio smiled as he recognized it as The Valkry's Daughter. Ahead, whoever was directing the pontoons saw the oncoming danger and the cumbersome vessels began to swing in all directions as their crews sought to head for the nearest shore. Horatio watched grimly as two collided, staving in the side of one and spilling the unfortunate infantrymen into the river.

"We're within range, master gunner," he called. "Aim at those two locked together. Fire when she bears…"

Lieutenant Mary Amadeus reporting!

*

The fitting had gone very well. Philip's chosen tailor had already made a selection of apparel in the colors of the Guard artillery, and it only remained for a few specific measurements and adjustments pertinent to Mary Amadeus' form to be made before she was the proud owner of three full sets of uniform. Oh, but I feel sinful pride just spilling out of me! She thought, standing before the cheval glass. The tailor had worn a stunned expression from the outset when he discovered who the new officer was. But now his face had softened with the pride of a job well-done, and the sheer pleasure Mary showed in his work.

"You're a master of your craft, mine Herr!" she said, shaking his hand.

"Thank you, Fraulein – ah, Lieutenant!" he bowed. "Anytime you need more garments, please come and see me.

Mary ran her hands over the buff lapels and down the crimson coat, taking pleasure in the fit and the form, and unintentionally causing the tailor conniptions in the sensuous way she did so. "I'll…I'll pack my things and leave," he said hurriedly.

"Thank you, again." She glanced at the clock. "I think I shall go and report for duty!"

Within minutes she was strolling happily along a passageway en-route to the conference chamber where she knew Philip would likely be. The residential and guest wings were quiet. With the sudden alarm of the invasion causing such disturbance in the great palace most folks were now thronging the public areas. So when she turned a corner she immediately became aware of two figures hurrying ahead of her. For all their speed there was a furtive air about them. She recognized one of them.

Zögernsie! But who is the other?

Working swiftly she unlaced her shiny new Hessian boots and hastened after the two men. Like many people of larger build Mary was quite light on her feet and her stockinged footsteps made no sound on the rich stone flooring. The men entered another passageway lined with yellow silk paper, that turned at a right angle to the first. She followed and risked a peep around the corner, and saw the conspirators enter a room halfway down.

Quickly, she trotted down to the door and pressed her ear to the panel. The men were talking in an agitated fashion and obviously weren't keeping their voices down. Careless.

"…far too much, too soon!" Zögernsie was complaining. "The Margraf did not give us time to prepare the ground!"

"He's young, impatient," the other man said in his higher pitched voice. "We must do what we can to aid his efforts, but ensure we keep a channel of communication open with the Dowager. At the moment that young man may well overreach himself, and that in turn will provide the Dowager with the chance to seize power."

"If we can successfully sabotage the efforts here, it will lead to negotiations in the Margraf's favor. We can then suggest giving the Grafin Ursula to the Margraf as part of reparations would not be so bad after all. That in turn will reduce her father's influence in court. He may be a gruff old bastard but he is sensitive to family."

"Yes. It's a shame Graf Philip seems so popular and, let it be stressed, surprisingly competent for his age."

"The Grand Duke is fit and well, and will reign for decades yet. Let us leave Graf Philip to those who will come after us."

Why do they hate Hetzenberg so? Mary thought, outraged at what she was hearing. She made a mental note of the location of the door. It was the entrance to a suite. Right! We'll see about this!

She hurried away in search of a servant, and two passageways from the room found a valet smoking a pipe in a quiet window nook. The man got to his feet hurriedly and thrust the reeking object behind his back. He stared, round eyed at her apparel. "Oh, never mind that thing! I'll not report you. Now tell me, who is in the third suite along in the yellow papered passageway?"

"That would be Baron Bummeln-Störrisch, Fraulein," the man said with patent relief, his eyes watering with strain as he resisted looking her up and down.

"Ah! Excellent."

She hurried away. The valet gazed after her, shook his head, and went back to smoking his pipe.

* * *

The river had risen considerably with the melt water coming off the mountains and the current was flowing at five knots, or so Horatio judged. The flotilla headed downstream in line ahead, Styx leading, Acheron just astern of her. As he gazed at the passing banks Horatio was relieved the rising waters would cover what few navigation hazards lay in the stretch below Kimmelsbrücke. It would make their passage quicker and easier. They had passed the lower boundary post two hours ago. With the push of the current and their sweeps, the gunboats were making good time toward the scene of action.

"Cavalry, sir," Midshipman Kurt said, pointing at the east bank.

Horatio looked and saw the small mounted figures trotting along the bank then raised his telescope for a better assessment. "Crimson britches, gray jackets, blue pelisse, busbies: They must be the new regiment of hussars we've heard tell of. Fancy-looking fellows!"

"The Tuhellenbach Regiment sir. Proper peacocks!" Midshipman Kurt grinned. "Shall we fire at them?"

"Not without the Captain's consent, which I shall not ask for. Leave them be, Kurt," Horatio said, snapping the telescope shut. "We shall need our powder and shot for better purposes." He glanced at the sun, and consulted his watch. "It won't be long now…"

* * *

Ursula turned into the street leading to the barracks and saw a familiar figure coming toward her. She stiffened as the man drew up short and stared at her. His aquiline features worked with some hidden emotion and he bowed. "Your Excellency, I trust I see you well?"

"Baron Ehrgeiziger, what a… what a surprise!"

"Yes."

I can't help but feel sorry for him, she thought. Mary A told me he's smitten, but it makes things so awkward!

She pointed at his arm where it hung in a sling. "I trust your wound is healing well?"

"It's healing well, I thank you. It troubles me sometimes, but I was lucky."

"I'm glad." And that's no lie. He's a pleasant enough fellow behind the formality. "Will you be returning to your own country soon?"

"No. My physician has recommended a rest cure at Bolschen. I shall take advantage of my parole and visit the baths there."

"I'm sure they will do you a world of good." She smiled, feeling easier. This isn't so bad, a pleasant conversation in a public street. "It's a pity our nations are now at war, Herr Baron."

He gave her a sad smile. "It's not something I wished to see, Excellency."

"No. Neither of us would have expected this outcome when we first met, back in Randstadt."

"Indeed not." He shrugged and winced. "Such is life."

"Yes." She gestured toward the barrack gate in the distance. "I'm going to visit a friend now, Herr Baron, so I must take leave of you. I wish you an easy journey to Bolschen. Perhaps we shall see each other again."

"I hope so, Excellency." He bowed. "It's a pleasure knowing you."

Ursula curtseyed and they parted company. Poor fellow! I hope he gets over me soon, she thought.

*

Baron Ehrgeiziger headed around the corner and stopped outside a bakery. For a long time he stood, gazing into space, until the intelligence agent watching him wondered if he'd had some kind of seizure. Then to the man's intense surprise and discomfort, his mark looked around, saw him, and walked straight over.
"Good morning. There's something I'd like you to do for me…" the Baron said.

* * *

Mary Amadeus tracked Philip down to a conference chamber where she spotted him with a coffee cup in his hand, chatting to an army officer. Without hesitation she went straight up to him, disregarding the expressions of surprise and outrage on the faces of the men around her, and fired off a sharp salute. "Lieutenant Amadeus reporting for duty sir! And I know who the second conspirator is!" she added in a whisper.

"Mary!" Philip blinked and stared at her. "What? Who?"

"Baron Bummeln-Störrisch. He and Baron Zögernsie are meeting in his chambers even as we speak."

"Dear God, Philip, what have you done?"

Mary and Philip turned as one to see General Rauppen-Schlepper staring with disbelief at Mary's uniform. "Ah, general, this is my new officer, Lieutenant Mary Amadeus," Philip said and took the man by the elbow. "But there's no time for outrage, dear chap! We have a pair of vipers in our bosom!"

Rauppen-Schlepper's outrage gave way to concern then fury as Philip related the situation. "And you swear to this?" he asked Mary.

"I do, sir!" she said, coming to attention. "So will Ursula -- the Grafin."

He looked her over, harrumphed! a couple of times then nodded. "Very well!" He gestured to an aide. "Captain Scharfe, summon the guard!"

* * *

Paul made his way to the White Horse tavern, where Kapitän Schwingen waited for him in a private room. The man seemed half asleep, but his head came up when Paul entered the room and his eyes glittered with subdued malice. "You are all packed and ready to go?" Paul asked tersely.

"I am."

"Then I discharge you from your bonds. You are free to go." Schwingen stared at him. "For heaven's sake, man!" Paul snapped. "The mission's off. I'm giving you your liberty!" He jerked his head toward the door. "Now get out of here!"

Schwingen bowed his head and stood up, slowly. He groped for his pack and swung it onto his back then with a final, lowered glance at Paul, he left the room. Paul listened as his heavy footsteps faded, and breathed easier. Crossing to the window he watched the former officer walk down the street, a free man at last. I hope I did the right thing, letting him loose.

* * *

Across town, Doktor Hölzerner-Kopf was in a good mood that lasted all the way to the moment he opened his door and found two men in dark coats standing outside. "Doktor Hölzerner-Kopf, I presume?" one said with a nasty smile.

Hölzerner-Kopf looked at the file of soldiers from Kranke's regiment standing behind them and his bowels turned to water.

* * *

I can see myself being very busy in the coming month or two, but I hope to draw this particular chapter of the Chronicles to a conclusion within a week. Time and commitments being what they are, I shall novelize the coming actions between Hetzenberg and the Margraf rather than game them. Tony Bath's excellent book Setting up a wargames campaign has a number of mechanisms for deciding encounters in an abstract way using dice so I'll use them to decide the outcome.

Dawn and departures.

*

The barracks and cantonment outside the town began to hum with activity as news of the invasion spread. Trumpet calls sounded to summon soldiers to the colors. General Rauppen-Schlepper arrived from the palace and had maps brought to the main office. There he briefed the senior military and civil leaders on the situation.
"This is the situation as far as we know it," he said. "By either good luck or design the Rumtopft Dragoons were encamped not far from the river fifteen miles below the town."

He indicated the spot on the map. "Just before dawn they were approached by an early fisherman who warned of activity on the opposite banks. They assembled and moved to the river in time to see the first of the pontoons crossing. By then, however, a number of enemy light troops had already crossed to our shore in rowboats and brought the dragoons under fire. Couriers were sent to notify us of the crossing. Colonel Ludendorf of the dragoons states he will continue to oppose the crossing as long as he can, and if forced to withdraw will do so in our direction.

Rauppen-Schlepper leaned on his knuckles and gazed around at the officers and diplomats. "Gentlemen, the Gravies have stolen a march on us, but they may have bitten off more than they can chew. I have already sent a message to Captain Creighton of the riverine flotilla asking him to sail immediately to intercept the enemy pontoons. His gunboats should disrupt the crossing, stranding those enemy regiments already on our soil. For our part, Regiments Sleibnitz, Wöhl and Brabenachel shall march north within the hour, with the Bishop's Regiment of Horse leading."

"What of my regiment, sir?" Colonel Kranke asked, standing to attention.

Rauppen-Schlepper looked at him kindly. "Colonel, your regiment is still under strength. I appreciate your eagerness to lead it into combat but at the moment I feel it necessary to leave you here to defend the town. There are still Gravy troops just across the border. They may make an attempt upon Kimmelsbrücke if they feel it to be weakly defended. Your presence shall persuade them not to try it."

"Very well, sir." Kranke looked crestfallen but nodded his acceptance.

Rauppen-Schlepper stood straight, his hands behind his back. "Gentlemen, I will tell you an old military adage. The situation is never as bad or as good as first reports will have it. We have an enemy on our soil that is true. But I say again, he has bitten off more than he can chew. With the lines of communication cut, the Margraf's army will have thrust its head into a noose." His grin was almost feral. "And we shall tighten the knot!"

* * *

Midshipman Kurt was waiting anxiously at the palace when the four friends arrived from the park. He ran forward, his face shining with relief. "Sir! Captain Creighton desires all captains to repair aboard their vessels, to make immediate sail to engage the enemy!"

"Slow down, youngster!" Horatio said, laying his hand on the excited boy's shoulder. "Take a deep breath and tell me, what is the situation?"

Kurt did as he was told, drawing a deep breath in almost comical fashion. "The Margraf's army is crossing the river fifteen miles below the town, sir. We're under orders to disrupt their movements."

"Good. Cut along back to Acheron. I shall follow presently."

Kurt sped away, and Horatio turned to the others. "It seems we must part for a while, my friends."

"Of course," Graf Philip said. "I had better go and see what Count Ostenberg has to say about the situation." He turned to Mary Amadeus with a smile. "And you, my dear, have an appointment with a tailor!"

She grinned, always a heartening sight to see on her round face. Ursula smiled at her friend's happiness, even as anxiety began to fill her mind. Philip bowed and headed off, deeper into the palace. Mary kissed Horatio on both cheeks, murmured "Good luck!" and followed.

Ursula clasped his hands. "Horatio, may I come with you to the quayside?"

"Of course," he said tenderly. "But I will not be able to tarry for long."

"A few minutes will be enough." She managed a smile. "Don't worry, I won't insist on coming along to meet the enemy!"

He laughed. "That concern had crossed my mind!"

"I'll see you off to another triumph, then go visit Konrad. I'm worried about him."
"That's quite understandable." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

"Lets."

*

The quayside was bustling with activity when they arrived. All north-bound river traffic had been halted and the Eisenwasser was beginning to fill with vessels. The area around the four gunboats was kept clear. Their decks were full of purposeful activity.

"Is Acheron fit for battle?" Ursula asked, staring down at her.

"She is. The shot-holes have been plugged, new sweeps set up, and we've restocked on ammunition. I have a new master gunner, recently promoted." He gave a wry smile. "This will be the ideal chance to blood the fellow."

"I hope it won't mean a literal shedding of his blood!" She cupped his face in her hands and gazed at him intently. "You take care of yourself also, Horatio Horngebläse! I expect to see you back here within a couple of days, fresh from another victory."

"I shall certainly do my best. I have much to live for," he added, softly.

They kissed, to the delight of the crew of Acheron, watching from below. Then Horatio slapped his hat on his head and ran down the brow to his command.
The signal to sail was already rising up the halyards aboard Styx. Captain Creighton was standing on the quarterdeck of the pennant ship, peering at Acheron. "When you have quite finished with your romancing, Lieutenant, I would appreciate your getting under way!"

"Aye aye, sir!"

The moorings were cast off, and the flotilla moved out into the stream to the cheers of the watching populace. Ursula watched them go, her heart heavy with anxiety. Horatio was obviously busy about his duties, but he turned and waved his hat to her before the gunboats, in line ahead, disappeared through the arch of the bridge.
Will I ever see him again? She wondered, turning away from the river. This is what it means to love a sailor! As she walked away she looked up at the great bulk of the palace on the hill. Oh well, at least it means father will be too busy to pay attention to me for a while…