Stormy Weather

Hell Breaks Loose - I

Theresia was in no hurry to go home after her singing lesson with Signora Giovanelli. The Dragoon had taken control of the household -- at least as far as the girls were concerned -- and Theresia had no desire to meet her. According to the Dragoon's opinion, Theresia could do much better in painting if she had more practice, and had therefore given her some drawing tasks. Theresia had been quite ready to pass them on to Marie, and had done some of Marie's mathematical problems instead. When the Dragoon had found out, she had stormed into the library and had accused Uncle von Hertenberg of undermining her authority -- clearly, the girls did not have any respect for her.

The meeting with her uncle had been quite unsatisfactory. Uncle von Hertenberg had not been disposed to listen to Theresia's constructive criticism concerning her lessons. Her suggestion had been to dismiss the Dragoon and to get another governess who actually knew how to teach -- and whose French would not scare away any Frenchman, were he unlucky enough to hear it. Even though Miss Bülow always boasted of her French descent, she had definitely not inherited any talent for her ancestors' language.

Uncle von Hertenberg had pointed out that it was not Theresia's place to decide such things as the employment of a governess, and that she'd better learn to get along with Miss Bülow. So, Theresia had made another suggestion -- if she went back home, Miss Bülow would not be bothered with her any more, and, which was even more important for her, she would not be bothered with The Dragoon either.

"I think we have already settled that problem, have we not?" had been Uncle von Hertenberg's answer. "Besides, Theresia, there is no use in running away from one's problems. They can run pretty fast, you know, and will catch up with you sooner or later. You need to learn to get along with people, whether you like them or not. The sooner you learn it, the better it is. Miss Bülow stays where she is, and you stay, too. Besides, I would really appreciate it if you stopped calling Miss Bülow The Dragoon. It is a severe insult."

"I am sorry, Uncle," Theresia had replied. "I never intended to insult any dragoons of my acquaintance."

Then she had left the library, before her uncle had had the chance to answer. But, if her ears had not deceived her too much, he had had a good laugh at her last comment, and the matter was resolved, for the time being.

Resolved, as far as Theresia and Uncle von Hertenberg were concerned, at least. Miss Bülow still resented that Theresia had tried to trick her, and loads of extra work were waiting for her whenever she returned from Signora Giovanelli's.

Theresia dreaded the summer, when all the family would be in Hertenberg, and Miss Bülow would go with them, while Signora Giovanelli would stay in Vienna. No singing lessons to get rid of The Drag... Miss Bülow. Sitting in the park drawing boring sketches of some flower or other was more likely to happen. There had to be a way out of that. There simply had to.

*****

Baron von Hertenberg's problems were of a much more serious nature. Due to his profession, he had access to information that not many others had -- and, according to this information, one had to reckon with another war with France. He had seen the same signs before, and had learnt to read them. There was one difference to the previous wars, though. This time, not only he himself but also his son would be involved. He had never told Carl why he had really wanted him in his own regiment -- he had done so to be able to protect him, should the need arise. Experience had taught him that many young and keen soldiers -- and Baron von Hertenberg knew that his son was as keen to prove himself as anyone -- got killed in action very soon. This would not happen to Carl -- not as long as he could prevent it. Coming to think of it, he should have forbidden Carl's joining the army altogether -- only, he had noticed Carl's talent very early, and Carl had always wished to be a soldier. True, he had not known what a soldier's life was really like, but then, no one knew until they had experienced it. And Carl was extremely strong-minded -- had his father opposed his plans, Carl would certainly have contrived to do as he wanted, somehow. Better to have him under control...

Another thing worried the Baron. If the war started -- and he was quite certain that this would happen before the summer was over -- he and Carl would leave, and they would have to leave the rest of the family behind all by themselves. Joseph was in the Tyrol, and was not disposed to return home. Especially not because he knew that this was what his father wished.

Elizabeth would get along quite well; he had no doubt as to that. Her health had improved a bit lately -- so, if her condition did not grow worse again, she would be able to take care of the girls, and the estate, too... only, what if she fell ill again? It would have been a great relief to have Joseph here, because then he would not have to worry about home when he was gone. Joseph would have managed anything, and he would have been able to trust him completely. If only Joseph had not been so foolish to fall in love with that governess...had she been another girl, someone with family, and some money, perhaps, he would not have had anything against her. It had been her being so poor that had made Baron von Hertenberg suspect that she only wanted Joseph's money -- and her giving way so easily had convinced the Baron that this had been, indeed, her chief object. Had she really loved the boy, she would have stayed. If only Joseph had had enough sense to see that...

Joseph was not stupid as a rule, on the contrary -- he was clever and reasonable. But, whenever Joseph liked people, he was likely to be prejudiced in their favour, even if they were not at all worthy of his friendship. To lose Joseph's friendship was practically impossible. One would have to do something extremely dreadful to manage that. Baron von Hertenberg knew that he had done such a thing -- he had separated Joseph from the woman he loved, and though he knew that this sort of interference had not been quite right, he had done it for Joseph's best. Baron von Hertenberg knew that, as soon as Joseph realised that, he would come back. Hopefully he would realise it soon...he was needed here.

*****

"Get up, lazybones," someone yelled into Joseph's ear. He opened his eyes and saw Martin standing next to his bed, clad in hunting clothes.

"Don't tell me you forgot," Martin said.

"I did not," Joseph said sleepily, looking at his pocket watch that was lying on the bedside table. "Four o' clock in the morning! God Almighty, how do you manage to be so full of energy so early in the morning, Martin?"

"It's quite easy, actually," Martin replied with a grin. "I didn't go to bed."

"You mean you were up and about all night?"

"Yep. Will you get out of bed now or do you want me to take drastic measures," Martin said. "There's a bucket of water waiting just outside the door..."

"All right, just give me some time to get dressed, will you?" Joseph answered.

"Hurry up, though," Martin answered. "We haven't got all day."

Half an hour later, Joseph, Martin and Stephan set out in the direction of the forest at the northern bounds of the city. Stephan was carrying some breakfast for them, and was in charge of the ammunition. When they entered the forest, the first light of dawn was visible on the mountain peaks. Some birds started to sing, rather hesitantly, still, but they sang nevertheless.
Somehow, Joseph felt as if he was entering a whole new world. They arrived at a clearing, and there Joseph noticed some men, carrying birdcages on their backs.

"Bird-catchers?" Joseph whispered to Martin.

Martin nodded. "I know one of them. He's very good, actually. Do you want to talk to him?"

"He does not look as if he had time to talk," Joseph answered.

"Oh, he will have time as soon as he has set up the traps," Martin said and went over to the men. Joseph did not really hear what he said to them, but shortly afterwards one of the older men came over to him and introduced himself.

"What sort of birds are you going for today," Joseph asked him.

"Crossbills," the man said shortly.

"Are there many hereabouts?"

"Lots. This is one of the best places to get them."

"What do they look like?" Joseph asked, rather curious about that sort of bird.

"The males are red. The females are rather plain, greyish animals. I always say that birds are the opposite of humans. With birds, it's usually the males that are better looking."

"Looking at you, I can even believe that," said Martin, who had overheard that last sentence. The man laughed.

"How much are these birds," Joseph asked. "How much do you take for them?"

"Nothing."

"You cannot be serious," Joseph said. "I always supposed bird-catchers make their living with selling birds."

"No, they don't," the man answered. "We make our living with building birdcages. You buy a cage; you get the bird for free. It's an old rule in our guild."

Joseph smiled. "So, how much do you want for a cage then?"

"Depends on the cage. Wooden ones are cheaper, but if you want a crossbill, you will have to take an iron cage. Crossbills would gnaw at the wooden bars and escape in no time."

"Sounds interesting," Joseph said. "Supposing I could bring myself to buy a crossbill cage ... when would you deliver it?"

"As soon as you want me to," the man said and smiled. "I've got some pretty specimens at home."

Joseph settled his business with the bird-catcher and took leave afterwards.

In walking on, Martin said, casually, "I didn't know you were interested in birds."

"I have always been interested in science, Martin," Joseph said, quietly. "I even wanted to study medicine once. My father forbade it."

"He forbade it? Why?"

"He thought it was not respectable enough. Anyway, I will have someone to care for, at least, even if it is only a bird."

Martin gave him a curious look, and said, "You're not that ugly, you know."

Joseph smiled, but did not say anything. This sounded exactly like the sort of compliment one would expect from Martin.

"I mean, it is not as if you will be confined to a pet bird's company for the rest of your life," Martin went on. "If you went out more often, I'm pretty sure you'd soon find a girl or two."

Joseph stared at Martin in horror. "What would I do with two girls?"

"Isn't it a bit late for you to find out about the facts of life, Joseph," Martin said, grinning. "Really, for someone interested in natural history..."

"Martin, I have no intention of messing around with women," Joseph said firmly. "I never was that type."

"Pity," Martin said. "You do not know what you are missing."

"Besides, I do not want to fall in love again," Joseph added. "I have not quite got over the last time yet."

"Ah, so there's your problem," Martin said. "I thought so. You did sound like it. I agree with you -- falling in love is not what a man should do. It impairs his judgment, and therefore he ought to avoid it at all means."

"Is this the man who is known to spend a great deal of his time in female company," Joseph asked. He had noticed more than once that Martin had had a late night visitor...

"I do," Martin admitted. "Only, that's not being in love. That's just passing one's time pleasantly, and when it's over, it's done with. No tears, no regrets. My affairs only last as long as I enjoy myself -- I'm not interested in anything serious."

"Sounds rather thoughtless to me," Joseph said. "Just suppose someone did that sort of thing to your sister -- would you be pleased?"

"Not at all, I assure you," Martin answered. "But there is a difference between my sister and other people's."

"For example?"

"She's MY sister, for example," Martin said angrily. "Anyone who hurts her will live to regret it -- though, perhaps, not long. And now shut up, we're getting to the hunting grounds and you don't want to scare all the deer away, do you?"

******

Carl was invited to dinner with the Horvàths. That had happened quite often lately, since Mrs. Horvàth could hardly refuse any of her son's wishes. She did not have the heart to do so. Carl had accepted the invitation gladly; it had not been so very nice to spend his evenings at home lately. His father had grown rather gloomy, and had taken to be even more inquisitive as to Carl's affairs than he had been before the quarrel with Joseph.

It was rather unfair, Carl thought. Joseph had fallen in love with that governess, and was in the Tyrol now, out of his father's reach and without doubt enjoying himself very much, doing as he pleased, while Carl was in Vienna, not even getting the chance of doing anything wrong -- or amusing, at least. Instead, he was assigned one task after the other, and strongly suspected that his father wanted to keep him away from amusement for good. It was DEFINITELY unfair.

Carl had gone to the Horvàths' house in the hope of meeting Miss Horvàth, who was rather amusing to be with, but unfortunately someone else had required Miss Horvàth's presence -- a school friend had invited her to a three-weeks' visit at her father's house, and so her family was, in her brother's words, "quite desperate for pleasant society." Which Carl was to provide, obviously.

As things looked at the moment, both Carl and his father would to stay in Vienna all summer -- in the meantime, it had become obvious to everyone in the army that another war with France was soon to start. Everyone was preparing, and though both Carl and Horvàth were feeling excited and ready to go, they were a bit afraid, too.

"How long do you think the whole business will take," Horvàth asked Carl.

Carl shrugged. "I would not know, really," he said. "Such things are rather hard to estimate. My father once told me never to trust anyone who told me that a war would only last a few weeks. He called such people lunatics with homicidal tendencies."

"Stop that scary talk, if you please," Horvàth said, grinning. "That is just how I describe my superiors, you know."

Carl laughed. "Why did you join up, anyway? You do not sound all too keen to go into battle."

"Neither are you, you just do not admit it," Horvàth said. "Why did I join up, indeed? I had the choice of joining the army or going to live with my uncle and aunt in Hungary and being trained to be a good horse-farmer. Do not get me wrong, I love horses, I grew up with them, but sometimes I do require a bit more intelligent company."

"And so you joined the army? Poor you," Carl said, laughing. "If it were not for me..."

"Oh, I am very glad I met you," Horvàth said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "At least now I fully appreciate my horses again."

"I am glad I could be of use to you," Carl said, not at all offended.

One thing was sure. Going to war would not be so VERY bad, as long as Horvàth was around. He would definitely make him laugh sometimes, and as long as one could laugh...

******

Joseph cursed the moment he had consented to go to a shooting club meeting with Martin. Martin went there regularly, practising his shooting and drinking a great deal more than was good for him. In the past weeks, he had often insisted on Joseph's coming along, but Joseph had always had an excuse or other to decline the offer. One evening, however, he had given in to Martin's entreaties for the sake of peace and quiet.

The club members were all sorts of people, and as far as Joseph could see there was no real difference in class between them. There were stable hands as well as farmers, doctors, lawyers, tradesmen as well as gentry, and the only difference allowed between the men were their ranks. There were ranks in the club, just as in any military unit, and Martin had told him that these clubs had existed all over the country ever since the 16th century.

"But why?" Joseph had asked him in amazement.

"That's simple," Martin said. "Anyone attacking this part of the country will have to face us. We don't have to join the army, as other men do, unless we have to defend our own borders. That sort of thing has been successful ever since 1511. I mean, just remember the year '97."

Joseph had heard enough about the year '97, as his father had been stationed in the Southern part of the Tyrol then. Apparently, even women had taken up arms if their villages had been threatened by the French.

"But why those shooting clubs," Joseph asked Martin.

"Somehow we need to get practice," Martin said, and added, grinning, "And some married men need an excuse to get away from their homes at least once a week."

Joseph knew no one at the meeting, and felt rather out of place. Martin did introduce him to some friends of his, but then he left Joseph behind and sat down at a card table with some of them. Joseph wandered around, watching the card games, and talked to some people now and then. Somehow he had the impression that he was not really wanted here.

Suddenly, one man rushed in. He was rather tall, dark, and wearing a moustache. As far as one could tell by his clothes, he was a farmer, though, perhaps, not a very rich one.

"Shut up, all of you," he yelled when no one seemed inclined to give up their conversations for the moment. Everyone stared at him.

"Have you heard," he asked the entire party. "Austrian troops are on their way west. Seems like you'd better do some shooting practice instead of playing cards. You may need it very soon. After all, Bavaria is on the side of the French."

"I hope they know what they are doing," Martin said, with a grim smile.

"Unfortunately, I think they are," the man answered. "It pays to be Napoleon's ally."

"We had better prepare then," Martin said with a sigh. "What do you say to a meeting with the regular officers tomorrow?"

"I'd rather have one tonight," the man replied. "If we know about our troops coming here, the enemy will know about it, too."

Martin nodded. Suddenly, a thunder could be heard in the distance. Martin began to laugh.

"How appropriate," he said with a grin. "Hell's breaking loose."

Part II

"Look at this! It is awful, isn't it?" Theresia said, furiously. Marie cast a glance at Theresia's drawing of some trees on the riverbank.

"It looks much nicer than your last one," she answered, encouragingly. "All you need to do is keep trying."

"I do not want to keep trying," Theresia said heatedly. "I have some talents, but drawing is not one of them. I only need to look at your work to be fully aware of that. Why cannot Miss Bülow accept it?"

Marie sighed. Theresia and Miss Bülow -- they had felt an enmity for each other right from the start. At first, Theresia had opposed Miss Bülow quite openly, testing who was the stronger-minded of the two of them. Miss Bülow had won most times, but only because she had Marie's parents on her side. So, seemingly, Theresia had given up. But Marie strongly suspected that Theresia was up to something. She had certainly not given up her plan to get rid of Miss Bülow; she had only changed her tactics.

At the moment, Theresia was sitting on the Hertenberg terrace with Marie, working on her picture and looking like an angel. She looked so innocent that Marie began to fear for Miss Bülow's life. Experience had taught her that Theresia was at her worst when she began acting like a good little girl. She was hatching some wicked plot, no doubt.

Suddenly, Theresia put her sketchbook aside and said, "Well, that is it for the moment. I need a break, or my hand will fall off. If anyone asks, tell them I went down to the river to seek inspiration."

"Are you finished," Marie asked her anxiously. Miss Bülow did not hold with such nonsense as allowing her students a break before their tasks were finished. Theresia knew that as well as she did.

"I said I need a break," Theresia said sharply.

"But there will be trouble," Marie said.

"I bet there will," Theresia said with a grin. "But not before tonight."

"What are you up to," Marie asked suspiciously.

"I will not tell you," Theresia answered. "I know you are not good at lying, so if anyone asks you can answer quite truthfully and tell them you do not know anything."

With these words, Theresia ran down the terrace steps and skipped across the lawn towards the river. Marie decided to stay where she was and keep Miss Bülow away from her cousin as long as possible. It did not last long before Miss Bülow made her entrance.

"Where is Miss von Laudeck," she demanded to know, giving Marie a stern look.

"She said she needed a break," Marie said quietly, avoiding Miss Bülow's stare.

"A break," Miss Bülow exclaimed. "I have never seen anyone so lazy as that girl. Where did she go?"

"I do not know, Miss Bülow," Marie replied.

"I bet you do know," Miss Bülow snapped. "Never mind, I shall find her, and may the Lord have mercy on her if I do."

For once, Marie agreed with Miss Bülow.

"Have you finished your drawing, Miss von Hertenberg?"

"Nearly, Miss Bülow."

"When you have finished, I want you to read four chapters of the book I gave you this morning," Miss Bülow said. "I shall examine you in the evening."

"But ... I still have to learn those French vocabulary, Miss Bülow..." Marie protested weakly.

"So what? Keeping you girls busy seems to be the only way to keep you from doing mischief," Miss Bülow hissed and went off in the direction of the stables to see whether Theresia's horse was there.

******

Theresia wandered along the riverbank, keeping a sharp lookout if anyone was following her. There was no one to be seen ... good. After some more incidents with Miss Bülow, she had decided that the Dragoon had to go. If her uncle would not dismiss Miss Bülow, Miss Bülow would have to quit. Theresia would take it on herself to make her do so, by rendering her life in Hertenberg unbearable. No one could treat her and Marie the way Miss Bülow did without having to pay for it.

Theresia made sure not to make a sound. She tiptoed along the footpath, careful not to move too swiftly. She had seen ring-snakes on this spot more than once, and today's object was to catch one of these beasts. Ring-snakes were harmless, their bite was not poisonous, and they hardly ever did bite. The riverbank was their territory -- there was plenty of food for them, frogs, insects, mice and rats.... Ring-snakes were excellent swimmers, too, and if Theresia was not careful, the snakes might escape into the water before she had had a chance to catch one. She needed one. One of the big ones, preferably. The bigger, the better. Ring-snakes were harmless, but to someone afraid of reptiles, such as Prussian governesses, they were threatening enough. Theresia grinned.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. A particularly well-fed specimen was coiled up on a stone, enjoying the rays of the sun. With one fast move, Theresia captured the animal and put it into the bag she had hidden on the riverbank early in the morning. The snake hissed vigorously and tried to get out, but it did not have a chance.

"I won't harm you," Theresia said, soothingly. "I'll let you out soon enough..."

******

That evening would remain in Marie's memory forever. Miss Bülow, having caught Theresia in the end, had told her to stay in her room -- there would be no dinner for lazy girls trying to escape their duties, and since Theresia was not disposed to draw any pictures, which was a leisurely thing to do, to be sure, she would have to learn four poems by heart till the next day.

"Certainly this is more to Mademoiselle's taste," she had hissed.

Marie had wondered why Theresia had not made the least objection. There had been no protest, no sulking ... nothing. She just took the books Miss Bülow handed to her and went to her room. Had Miss Bülow really not noticed that she was treading on dangerous ground?

Marie was just getting ready for dinner, when she suddenly heard a terrible scream from the Governess' room. Thinking that Miss Bülow might have hurt herself, Marie dashed out of her room to see what had happened. Miss Bülow was leaning on the corridor wall opposite the door to her room, looking white as a sheet and shaking. Marie had never seen such terror in anyone's face.

"What has happened, Miss Bülow," Marie asked her. Miss Bülow looked at her, but was not able to speak. She just pointed to something in her room. Marie could not see what it was and was about to move closer, when Miss Bülow gripped her hand tightly.

"Don't..." she said.

"But, what is it, Miss Bülow," Marie asked once again. When Miss Bülow did not answer, Marie decided to fetch her mother. Perhaps Miss Bülow would be more inclined to talk to her.

Indeed, when Marie and Baroness von Hertenberg arrived in front of Miss Bülow's room, Miss Bülow had calmed herself a bit.

Answering the Baroness's inquiry, she said, weakly, "There is a snake in my room."

"A snake," the Baroness answered, disbelievingly. "How can a snake get into your room, Miss Bülow? This is the second floor."

"I do not know," Miss Bülow said, "though I do have my suspicions. It must have been Miss von Laudeck."

Baroness von Hertenberg turned to Marie. "Go and get Theresia here, will you," she said quickly. "Get one of the stable hands, too. We need someone to catch that animal and release it outside where it belongs."

Marie nodded and ran downstairs to go to Theresia's room. For once, no one, not even Miss Bülow objected to her running down the stairs.

"Do you know how a snake got into Miss Bülow's room," Baroness von Hertenberg asked Theresia when she came upstairs.

"No, I do not," Theresia answered. "Though it is rather strange ... perhaps one of the cats brought it in?"

"One of the cats, Miss von Laudeck," Miss Bülow exclaimed. "Who would believe such nonsense?"

"Oh, I have seen the cats carrying lizards and snakes around before," Theresia said, looking straight into Miss Bülow's eyes. "Only, cats do not eat reptiles. They play with them for a while, and they kill them, if they manage it, but sometimes the reptiles are able to escape. One of the cats might have brought the snake in and the snake might have escaped and sought refuge in your room. I noticed your door was open in the afternoon, Miss Bülow."

Theresia looked like the picture of innocence. "What sort of snake is it, Miss Bülow?" she asked. "Is it a dangerous one?"

"I did not stay to see if it would bite me," Miss Bülow snapped.

Marie returned with one of the stable hands, who went into Miss Bülow's room and grabbed the snake by its neck. Marie wondered where exactly a snake's neck ended and its body began -- it was quite hard to tell, after all. She wished Joseph were here to answer her question.
The man carried the snake downstairs, and Miss Bülow calmed down.

"You'd better admit that this was your doing," she hissed at Theresia, sounding like a snake herself.

"What was my doing, Miss Bülow," Theresia asked.

"That ... disgusting trick you have played on me," Miss Bülow said. "You could have killed me. I nearly had a heart attack when suddenly this animal rose up and hissed at me."

"I swear I have no idea how the snake got into your room," Theresia said, quietly. "Though I really think it must have been one of the cats. I could never even touch a snake, Madam, and to put it into your room, I would have had to touch it, wouldn't I?"

Baroness von Hertenberg looked at Miss Bülow and said, "If my niece says she had nothing to do with it, we will just have to believe her. I will do something about those cats, however. I do think there are a bit too many of them around, anyway."

Theresia stared at her aunt in horror. She could not be in earnest ... kill the cats? A horrible thought, especially since the cats were not to blame for what had happened. Theresia decided to do something about it.

*****

Carl dropped into his bed, feeling terribly exhausted. All he had noticed about the war so far had been that endless march ... moving on and on, and not getting anywhere, it seemed. The villages were so much like the other, it was difficult to keep track on where they were. Still, Carl was lucky. Being an officer, and the Major General's son, too, gave him privileges that not many people in the unit had. Privileges like better food, or an actual bed when the men were to sleep in haystacks and barns. As far as one could call it a bed, that was. It was actually just a sack filled with straw, and a blanket.

His father treated him rather kindly, more kindly than he had done while they had been at home in Vienna. He seemed to want to make things as easy as possible for Carl. Though he did not show any obvious preference for his son, he did ask him to dine with him every day, and they spent most evenings in each other's company, playing chess or cards. They had some of the most serious talks they had ever had in Carl's life and grew closer every day.

When Carl had been little, his father had always been a sort of larger-than-life model he wanted to imitate. He had always been a bit like God -- one had to follow his orders, and he provided one with everything one wanted, but he had always seemed rather distant. Now, Carl realised for the first time how many things he had in common with his father. He began to understand his father's reasons for acting the way he had done so often.

They arrived in Innsbruck one evening in early August, and after they had settled down in the barracks, Baron von Hertenberg suggested that they should go and visit Joseph. Carl was quite happy to do so -- he had missed Joseph, even though they had not always been the best of friends.
Joseph, however, was not inclined to see his father. The servant at the Laudeck villa told them that Joseph was not at home, but he looked rather uncomfortable in saying this, and there was a light in what Baron von Hertenberg knew to be the drawing room. He did not say anything; he just took out a card and handed it to the servant.

"Tell Mr. von Hertenberg that his father and brother will be in town until the day after tomorrow," he said, sadly. "He will find us at the barracks, should he wish to see any of us."

Then he walked away, slowly. Carl followed him.

"Why do you not try to get in anyway," he asked his father.

"Would there be any use if I did?" the Baron answered. "It is clear that Joseph does not want to see me, and forcing my company on him would only make matters worse. He needs to find his way back by himself, out of his own free will. Nothing else will work."

"But you are making both of you unhappy with that attitude," Carl said.

"No, I am not," the Baron answered. "Joseph has chosen to blame me for something he could not cope with if he had no one he could blame. It seems this is the only use he has for me at the moment. Very well -- I will accept anything that will do him good. I only would have wanted to see him."

"Perhaps he will come to see us after all," Carl said, expressing a wish rather than knowledge.

"Perhaps. Now, I know a delightful tavern in these parts," the Baron said. "Let us go for a drink before we return to our quarters."

In the tavern, they met Horvàth with some of his friends, and the evening turned out to be quite pleasant after all. Yet, Carl began to think that Joseph and his father would never be at peace with each other again, and that thought was rather painful.

*****

"What does that mean, there are no cats to be found," Baroness von Hertenberg asked.

"There is no cat to be found, Madam," the servant repeated. "It is as if the earth had swallowed them."

"Strange," Baroness von Hertenberg said. "Never mind. There are no cats around, very well. Thank you for your efforts nevertheless."

The servant shrugged and left Baroness von Hertenberg to herself. Smiling, she rose and decided to speak to Theresia, who was spending another afternoon in her room because she had not been able to learn the four poems well enough, in Miss Bülow's opinion. There was quite a bustle in Theresia's room when she knocked at the door. Only after the Baroness had knocked for a second time, Theresia answered and asked her to come in.

Baroness von Hertenberg entered the room and sat down on one of the chairs. There was a rustling sound under Theresia's bed. The Baroness smiled.

"Are there, by any chance, some cats hiding in your room, Theresia," she asked the girl.

"No, there are not, Aunt," Theresia said, sounding rather desperate.

"You see, after that snake incident, I need to do something about those animals," the Baroness continued. "We need to get rid of them before they do some more mischief."

"It was not the cats' fault that Miss Bülow left her door open," Theresia answered stubbornly.

The Baroness had to grant Theresia one thing -- she was persistent. Any other girl would already have broken down and confessed that the cats had had nothing to do with the snake in the governess' bedroom, but not Theresia. She chose to blame Miss Bülow.

"Perhaps," the Baroness said, "but those cats are getting out of hand. I have given the stable hands my permission to shoot any cat they see on our grounds."

She had done no such thing, but she had to keep up pretences. Theresia stared at her in horror.

"Shoot them? But ... but ... but they did not do anything wrong," she cried.

"No? How did the snake get into Miss Bülow's room, then?"

"I put it there," Theresia said, and added, "and I would do it again. Next time I'll catch an adder and put it in her bed."

"Why do you dislike Miss Bülow so much?" the Baroness asked.

"Because she hates us, that is why. She treats us as if we were constantly up to something bad, which we are not -- well, at least we were not, when she came here. But if people start expecting the worst of me all the time, they have to blame themselves if I start showing myself at my worst. Besides, I cannot watch the way she treats Marie without doing anything against it. Just look at Marie when she is with Miss Bülow -- she will end up a hunchback one of these days, a result of her ducking all the time to be out of Miss Bülow's sight. Marie never misbehaves, you know that, Aunt. I do not mind being punished, not when I have done wrong, but I do not think it is fair if Marie is punished for something I have done. I hate that. That is why I want to get rid of Miss Bülow, and I will manage it, somehow."

"I would not wish to cause your ill-will," the Baroness said with a laugh. "You seem to have your own way with people you do not like."

"You bet, Aunt," Theresia said. "Anyway, now that you know the truth, you will not harm the cats, will you?" She gave the Baroness a pleading look.

Just that moment, a kitten had finally managed to escape its hiding place and peeked out from under Theresia's bed sheets.

"I will not harm them," the Baroness answered, laughingly. "I will not tell Miss Bülow about who put the snake into her room, either. Just promise you will not do that any more."

"I will not put a snake into Miss Bülow's room any more," Theresia answered.

"Next time it will be a rabid fox," she said, quietly, when her aunt had left the room, and picked up the cat. It seemed as if this animal was to be her only companion for quite some time.

*****

Meanwhile, Carl's unit had moved to Scharnitz, where they had to wait for further orders. Horvàth and his cavalry unit had moved on, and among the other young officers in his own unit, Carl had not made many friends. In a way, they resented him his connections. They accused the Major General of favouritism, even if that was not true. Carl decided to speak to his father about that. Things could not go on that way. Even if his father wished to make things easy for him, he actually made them harder. Soldiers could not usually depend on their superiors' goodwill, but they had to depend on the goodwill of their equals. At the moment, it was apparent that none of his fellow officers would move a finger to help him, if the need should arise.

"You want to be transferred," his father asked him, disbelievingly.

"I think it is better that way, sir," Carl answered. "Some people tend to believe that I would not be able to do my duty sufficiently if I were in another unit. It is time for me to prove that I can do well."

"Did you ever think that I might have had my reasons for wanting to have you in this regiment," Baron von Hertenberg asked.

"I have thought about it, sir, and I appreciate it. Only, one might get the impression that it was my wish to be in this regiment to have an easy life in the army. You know what soldiers think of such people, sir. If I want to get ahead in this profession, I need to earn myself respect."

"You will be able to earn some respect soon, Carl," his father replied. "It has nothing to do with the men, it has something to do with yourself. Until now, you have not really taken matters seriously, have you? You do give them the impression that this is just an adventure, something that will be fun and will be over in a few weeks. But war is not like that. You will find out about that as soon as you will see the first corpse lying on the ground in front of you. At that moment, I want to be there for you. I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to be transferred."

Carl left his father's office, furious. Why did no one ever take him seriously? He was sure that, as soon as he was in another unit, he would be able to do even better than he had done here, and no one would sneer at him just because his father happened to be in a position to be able to assist him. Why did his father not realise that he was not doing him anything good?

Part III

Soon, Carl began to see what his father had meant. The long march and the boredom of the first weeks were forgotten once the enemy began to charge. The main force, among them Horvàth's division, were currently in Ulm, and had managed to get hold of the city.

Carl's regiment was still behind the lines, guarding the borders together with local "hunters", as the volunteers were called. They were as good as any soldiers, Carl noticed, strictly organised and very efficient. There was one surprise -- among those men was his cousin Martin von Laudeck. It seemed that most of the locals looked up to Martin, they called him the best shot ever, and Carl had to admit that this was not completely wrong. Each of Martin's shots hit its target. Martin never lost his cool, whatever happened around him. He was acting like a machine -- a fast, exact, deadly machine. Carl was certain he would not wish to be fighting on the wrong side -- the wrong side being the one that had Martin as its enemy.

Then there was the day when a message arrived from Ulm -- the French army had taken the Austrians completely by surprise, and had forced them back. Carl's regiment had to follow them -- they had to return to the East.

Martin von Laudeck and his men decided to stay where they were and "give the French and Bavarians a good thrashing" -- "we've done so before, we shall do it again," Martin had said, and had not listened to his uncle's advice to leave as long as he still had the chance to do so.

"We're not going to leave this country to the French without a fight," he had said determinedly. "They want to have a fight, they'll get it." He gave a short laugh. "Some of them will have to pay a high price for their wish," he added.

Their retreat was rather turbulent. There were fights now, not very significant ones, certainly, none of them would show up in history books later, but there were people getting hurt and killed every day. Carl would nearly have been one of them, had it not been for one soldier's rather unconventional action -- he gave Carl a kick that sent him sprawling in the mud, while he heard a bullet fly past where his head had been only half a second before. Carl turned to the soldier, still shocked, and thanked him.

"Not worth mentioning," the soldier answered. By his accent, Carl could tell that the man was Bohemian. "It was the best excuse for striking an officer I could ever have -- had to take the chance. Besides, the bullet should have been mine."

"This sounds as if you wanted to get killed, man," Carl said.

"That was what I wanted when I joined up, yes," the man answered. "My name's Novacek, by the way, if you should want to place a complaint -- I could do with a few days in the cells right now."

"I am not going to place a complaint against you," Carl said. "I have no reason to."

"Blast. And there I thought I'd get a few days off for once. Well, I'll get them when we've won, I suppose."

"You think we are going to win?"

"I'll shave off my beard if we don't," Novacek answered, and, amidst the chaos, lit himself a pipe to indicate that he had more important business to attend to than talking to young officers whose life he had just saved.

In the evening, when things had calmed a bit, Carl told his father about his experience. Baron von Hertenberg laughed.

"Sounds like that Novacek was quite a character," he said. "Anyway, I will have to thank him for helping you -- even if his method was rather strange."

"How can you be in such a good mood after days like this," Carl asked his father wonderingly.

"I have seen worse days than that," the Baron answered. "So will you, and rather soon, I guess."

"How did you cope with that?"

"Who says I did?" the Baron asked him. "Those memories return very often, believe me. I was only extremely lucky in my choice of wife -- your mother made me forget everything, at least temporarily. Whatever people may tell you, a soldier needs a wife. He needs a reason for surviving, after all, and responsibility for a family is a good reason."

Carl smiled. "So you want me to marry?"

The Baron laughed. "Not yet, I think you are still rather young for that. There is enough time for you to find the right woman -- no need to hurry."

"You sound as if you knew who the right woman is," Carl said with a grin.

"I do not know who she is," his father answered earnestly, "but I do know what she must be like. You'll have to marry a strong woman, just like I did, one who is your equal and will not allow you to lord over her. You have a strong inclination to do so, being so headstrong, and a weak woman would break down sooner or later. No, you need one who will give you hell for every bit of misbehaviour. You need a challenge in life, and your wife ought to be a challenge, too, or she will bore you to death."

"You have given that matter a great deal of thought, it seems," Carl said. "Did you meddle with Joseph's affairs because Miss Grant did not suit your idea of a perfect wife for him?"

"No, that was not the reason," the Baron answered. "At least as far as I could tell, Miss Grant was a quiet, gentle kind of woman -- just the sort who would suit Joseph. But I had reason to believe that she only wanted to marry him for his money and the title he is going to inherit, and I had to put a stop to that. I think my suspicion was confirmed when she was so ready to give him up, once she knew that he would not inherit any money. Joseph deserves a wife who loves him, not his fortune. But, I am afraid he will fall for that sort of woman again. He is his own worst enemy, you know -- he is clever, but too good for this world. He expects everyone has to be as kind as he is ... he is yet to find out that he is unique. Joseph will find out the hard way, and I hope to be there to help him when the day comes."

For a while, none of them said a thing. Then Carl asked, "Do you think we have a chance to win against the French?"

"It is hard to tell," Baron von Hertenberg answered. "We will have to wait and see. There has not been any decision yet, I think. One thing is for certain -- if Napoleon takes Linz, he will also take Vienna, and I'd rather not have your mother and the girls there if that happens."

*****

My dear,

I have bad news to relate. Do not worry, both Carl and I are in good health, and I am trying my best to keep him out of harm's way. He does suspect something, however, and has already asked me to get transferred. How could I tell him about the promise I gave his mother, that I would bring him back alive and well whatever might happen? He would not understand your worries, or mine, for that matter.

The bad news is that, as the situation is now, it seems as if Napoleon will take Vienna before long. I am therefore asking you to stay in Hertenberg. There is no need to panic, I only feel that you and the girls will be safer in the country. The chance of encountering enemy soldiers is not as big as in Vienna, but prepare yourself nevertheless. Should French troops come to Hertenberg, invite the officers to our house, and nothing will happen to you or the girls. One has to grant the French one thing, their officers are an efficient lot, and they do have their men under control. People to whom they have offered their protection will be safe. Still, let us hope that you will not have to depend on anyone's mercy.

This cannot last so very long any more now, I know that. The decision will come soon, one way or the other. Take good care of yourself and the girls, dearest Elizabeth. You will be constantly on my mind until I return. Carl and I will be back home in time for Christmas, I am sure.

Yours affectionately,
Joseph

Baroness von Hertenberg sighed. Luckily, she had been a bit out of sorts lately and had therefore postponed her journey back to Vienna. It would really have raised suspicion, had she returned to Hertenberg shortly after her arrival at home. Her husband was right, there was no need to panic, but certainly the country was a safer place to be in times like these.

She ordered her maid to unpack her and the children's trunks, as she had decided to spend Christmas in Hertenberg, and then went to find one of the servants to arrange for some firewood to be bought and cut. They were most likely to stay all winter, after all, and she did not want to suffer from cold.

Then she went to tell the girls about the news. Only to them she confided what her husband had written to her in his letter -- though she left out the bit about the French officers, she did not want to frighten them. Her own fear was more than enough to handle.

The news hit Miss Bülow rather hard. She had depended on being back in Vienna by September, and had already been pretty upset when the Baroness's illness had prevented their journey back to town. Now that the Baroness -- without giving her any acceptable reason -- had told her that they would spend the whole winter in Hertenberg, since her husband had asked her to, she told the Baroness quite frankly that she did not want to waste her life in the middle of nowhere.

"You are free to go wherever you want, whenever you want," Baroness von Hertenberg replied. "Only, Miss Bülow, if I were you, I would reconsider that decision. Believe me, Hertenberg can be delightful in winter. You should stay here, for your own good."

But Miss Bülow did not listen. One day in late October, she left Hertenberg, and it was the last that either of the Hertenberg ladies were ever to see of her. Marie, Theresia and Baroness von Hertenberg were now alone, except for some servants in the house. All Hallows' Day was a quiet, rather cold but sunny autumn day. They went to church early in the morning, and Theresia prayed especially for her departed grandfather. It was the day to remember the dead...Baroness von Hertenberg thought, and suddenly she felt very weak. Hopefully nothing would happen to any of "her" men.

*****

It was in the middle of the night when Joseph was woken up by a loud knock at the front door. He left his bed, drew the curtain aside and tried to get a look at who was down there.

"Hey! Open up there, will you," he heard Martin shout.

Smiling, Joseph got dressed and went downstairs to open the door -- but Toni had already been there before him. He stood there, supporting Martin, who was obviously injured -- he tried to sound cheerful, but the ashen colour of his face showed that he was not at all well.

"What happened," Joseph asked.

"Ney's artillery have managed to destroy Porta Claudia," Martin said, quietly. "There was no way holding the fortress any more -- I suppose the French will be in Innsbruck by tomorrow evening. Swinburne has told each of us to go home. He has little hope that this war is to be won."

Lieutenant Colonel Swinburne had been the commanding officer of the Scharnitz fortress, Joseph knew that.

"What does that mean, Martin," he asked.

"It's easy, isn't it? Those Viennese bastards have let us down and we're done for. No offence meant."

"None taken. I think you should go to Laudeck to recover, Martin."

"No way. I'll stay right here. Toni, bring my rifle to my bedroom. I'll set it up there and shall shoot some Frenchies when they come into town. I'm not going to give up just like that."

"Martin, this is suicide, and you know it. Do not even think about it. The war is over, and we have lost. That's it, you will have to accept it."

"I'll NEVER accept that," Martin yelled. "Never. They may think they've won, but there will be the day when we'll kick their fat behinds out of here, and I'll be the first one to kick them, just wait and see!"

The pain and loss of blood finally became too much for Martin, and he nearly fainted. Joseph helped Toni to take Martin to his room, and forbade Toni to bring Martin any weapons. Then he went out into the night to get a doctor. Certainly, once the doctor had seen Martin, one could make plans. But it would be better if Martin did not witness the enemy entering his town. Something told Joseph that Martin would not be able to bear it. Joseph had to keep him from doing something desperate.

*****

This was certainly one of the darkest days of her life, Baroness von Hertenberg thought, when news reached her that Vienna had been invaded by the French. Napoleon had taken up residence in Schönbrunn Palace, and the Austrian Emperor had left the town in the direction of Brünn, where he had hoped to be safe.

Several of her friends had written to her, and the reports she read made her rather doubt if the French would really use mercy on her and the children, would they happen to pass Hertenberg. She could only hope and pray -- and prepare. Of course, she knew that there was no use in trying to arm oneself -- what could one do against a whole French regiment with one single hunting rifle, and no one in the house able to handle it?

She knew that everything depended on the French officers, but what if the officer in charge was one of those fanatical revolutionaries? Even if France had an emperor now, there were still some of those in the army, and their attitude towards landowners and members of the nobility was well-known. They had only accepted Bonaparte because he had been one of them, once...

Never before had she felt so alone, and so helpless. No one was there to assist her, except the servants. The girls would not be any help, definitely.

"What are you thinking, Aunt," Theresia asked her, looking up from her embroidery and studying her face anxiously.

"Oh, nothing," the Baroness replied and forced herself to smile. The girls should not be frightened -- never should they feel the danger they were in.

"You know what I thought?" Theresia said, quietly. "If the French come here, Aunt, we could go and hide in the church, in the old Hertenberg tomb. No one will seek us there, will they?"

"Oh, my dear..." the Baroness said, quite taken aback how a young girl could even think of such a thing.

"I mean, that was what we did, when there was any danger. We hid in the cellars, though," Theresia said. "Then I think, some people are rather superstitious, they will not search any tombs if anyone was hiding there. The dead can be useful allies, sometimes."

"Stop this revolting talk," Baroness von Hertenberg managed to say.

"At home, we had those secret passages leading out into the woods," Theresia said thoughtfully. "Are there any secret passages here, Aunt?"

"I would not know, Theresia, and I am sure that we will not need them. No one will harm us. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I heard the servants talk about it," Theresia said quite frankly. "They said if the French got here they might kill us all. I could take Uncle's rifle, my grandfather had a similar one, and he taught me how to handle it. Do you know where Uncle keeps his ammunition? Do you think he would mind if I used his hunting weapons?"

"Yes, I think he would mind, Theresia. Listen, we are NOT in danger. There is no need to worry, do you hear?"

The Baroness hoped that she had sounded convincing enough -- Theresia did not look as if she was persuaded, though. Then Marie entered the room, and Theresia whispered to her, with a conspiring wink, "Marie does not know any of it, and I will not tell her. She would panic if I did."

The Baroness nodded and smiled weakly. She was not far from panicking herself.

*****

Two and a half weeks after Napoleon had taken Vienna, the Austrian and Russian armies were gathering in Moravia, near Brünn. The Austrian Emperor and the Russian Tsar were supreme commanders now, a fact that worried many soldiers. None of the two men had much military experience, after all, they had nothing but their determination to win -- they would probably not hesitate to have thousands of their men slaughtered just to reach their aim.

Carl was standing on the summit of a hill, looking at the surroundings, amazed at the vast number of soldiers one could see. With such numbers, it was impossible to lose, wasn't it? Besides, they were on a hill, they could see for miles -- if it were not for that fog, of course. No one could get near them without being noticed.

It was about time there was a decision, Carl thought. He could hardly remember when he had had the last decent meal -- or anything to eat, for that matter. Since the Russians had joined them, they, too, depended on the Austrian provisions, only, provisions were becoming scarcer every day. There was not even enough material to build tents, so the soldiers had to sleep on the ground, wrapped up in their coats. It was now the beginning of December, and the nights were chilly. It would start to snow soon, no doubt ... that would mean that, if there was no decision, they could perhaps go home for the winter...or at least they could get quarters in Brünn, or in one of those villages down there, to wait for the spring...if only the emperor had sense enough to see that his soldiers were hungry and cold, he would certainly do something about it. Either a winter in Brünn, or a decisive fight in Austerlitz. Carl did not care what it would be.

Part IV

It was on the very same evening that Carl was invited to his father's quarters once again.
They were sitting in front of a roaring fire, which, in itself, was quite a luxury, Carl thought, and were playing a game of chess. Carl knew that his father always played chess when he was feeling anxious about something and needed to send his thoughts in the right direction. They did not talk much, at first, but when the Baron had won the third game of chess (Carl was quite ready to admit that he was not much of a chess player), he said, quietly, "You know, son, tomorrow is going to be a hard day."

"You mean, harder than the ones behind us," Carl asked, with a nervous smile.

"You bet," the Baron replied earnestly. "Our patrol has reported that the French are gathering not far from here. As things look at the moment, the final push is imminent. The Emperor has appointed a staff meeting later tonight -- I will have to leave in half an hour to attend it. I have no doubt as to what that means."

"There will be a fight tomorrow?"

The Baron laughed bitterly. "A fight? No, Carl, this is not what I would call it. According to our patrol's description of the French camp, I would rather call it a major battle. Probably THE battle we have all been waiting for."

"You sound quite confident that there will be a final decision tomorrow," Carl said, thoughtfully.

"There will be," the Baron answered. "Things look rather favourable for us at the moment, but I have been in the army for too long to trust appearances too much. But, one way or the other, there will be a decision tomorrow, yes."

"Why are you telling me all this," Carl asked.

"I want you to be prepared," the Baron answered. "I am asking one thing of you, Carl. Try to stay out of trouble. I am not asking you to act cowardly, mind you, as I know you would not do that anyway. But keep your eyes open, and, if I may give you a hint, watch your subordinates. The soldiers in our regiment are an experienced lot -- watch them, and do as they do. Believe me, you will not be wrong in that."

He laughed, but it was a rather depressed laugh. "Many young officers have lost their lives because they did not heed what older soldiers told them, thinking that they, as officers, ought to know better. It was the last mistake they made."

The Baron got up from his seat and put on his cloak and hat.

"I have to leave you now to go to that meeting," he said. "Take care of yourself, will you? We will meet tomorrow evening at the latest."

The Baron had never been a very emotional man, as far as Carl knew, and therefore he was quite taken aback when his father did something he had, to his knowledge, never done before -- he embraced his son. Only then it dawned on him that his father had to be downright scared of something -- though he had no idea what it was.

******

One of those days, Novacek thought when the sergeant told them to get ready for the attack. He pretended to listen to the sergeant's lecture on death, glory and honour, wishing he could just once get his hands on the ones who were actually to blame for his being here. But then, if he came to think of it, he was to blame for it. He had signed up as a volunteer with the army once, hadn't he? So, being here at Slavkov (the Germans called it Austerlitz, ignoring the local name of the place, as usual) was his fault entirely.

Had he not joined up, he would still be back home in Prague, working honestly in his butcher's shop. There was not much difference between a butcher and a soldier, coming to think of it, except that pigs did not fight back -- at least not usually. Bulls were a different matter, though. They could give the butcher a hell of a time, but at least the butcher always won in the end. There was one good thing about being here, however. He was here, and his wife was in Prague, far enough away to keep her from bothering him. She sometimes wrote to him, asking him to come back, but so far he had always been able to avoid that. If he was lucky, he might get killed today...

Once he heard the charging signal, Novacek did not think of anything any more. It was better that way for a soldier; he had found that out very soon. Do as you are told, and try to survive. That's what makes a good soldier. Sometimes, one had to avoid doing as one was told in order to survive. In that case, another rule was to be applied -- never, under any circumstances, attract the sergeant's attention. Superior officers were all right, they ignored his rank entirely, except when planning their battles and calculating how many of his sort were going to be killed -- like farmers, talking about cattle, they were. The dangerous guys were the NCOs, because they were the ones who knew what they were doing, and whom they had to keep an eye on.

It was cold, foggy, muddy, and one could not discern friend from enemy. Novacek fought his way along -- loading his rifle and firing, loading and firing, moving on and on, without thinking, and if possible, not looking what happened around him. He'd seen too much already, in his career, and knew that one only kept one's senses by shutting the pictures out of one's brain. The only thing he allowed himself to see was whom -- or what -- to aim at, and who was aiming at him. Everything else was of no importance at all.

He did not know how long the battle had been going on, when suddenly his sergeant turned up next to him and ordered him to "go and bring Lieutenant von Hertenberg to that barn over there, and be quick about it".

"Please, sir, where can I find the Lieutenant, sir," Novacek shouted, trying to raise his voice above the explosions around him.

"His unit must be over there somewhere," the Sergeant said, pointing towards a hill.

Of course, Novacek thought. If ever there was a suicide mission, I had to be in it. I always thought he hates me, and now I can be absolutely sure as to that. Stop complaining, Novacek, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

Without saying anything, Novacek saluted and tried to make his way across the field without getting hurt -- and he was quick about it, as the Sergeant had told him to, not because of the sergeant's order, but because he wanted to get this task done as soon as possible -- and hide himself behind some bushes, if possible. Lieutenant von Hertenberg -- whoever was that fellow? He had never met him, to his knowledge, but he had heard about him all right -- he was the one who always got the most comfortable posts and thought of himself as better than anyone, including the Lord and all his saints. An arrogant bastard he was, as far as Novacek had heard, but then, most of those babies were. It needed a few campaigns like this one to make soldiers out of them.

He reached the point the sergeant had shown him, and started to ask his way around. One soldier led him to a young officer who looked slightly familiar to Novacek...and when the young man turned around, Novacek felt he would rather have a heart attack right there and then.

He saluted and stammered, "Sir, I have to ask you to follow me, sir."

Lieutenant von Hertenberg gave him a sharp look. "Novacek, is it?"

"That's my name, sir," Novacek said, still standing attention, cursing at himself.

"Do you have any idea why I should go with you," the Lieutenant asked.

"No, sir, not the least, sir."

"Who told you to fetch me?"

Ah, good, that would get the sergeant into trouble, at least, and Novacek was out of it.

"Sergeant Dvorak did, sir."

The Lieutenant nodded, and said, rather calmly, "Well, off we go then, if it is that important..."

Novacek saluted once more, and started to make his way across the field yet again. The Lieutenant had remembered his name...that was the worst thing that could happen to a soldier. It would mean that, whenever there was a task to be done; Novacek would have to do it -- because the Lieutenant remembered his name. Blast.

*****

Carl had not had the least idea what was going on when Novacek turned up and asked him to follow him. Whoever had given him the orders? It seemed that no one had told Novacek anything about it, he had the orders to bring him somewhere, and that was it. Like a good soldier, Novacek had started doing as he was told without asking questions.

It took them some time until they reached a barn, the entrance of which was being guarded by two soldiers.

"Lieutenant von Hertenberg?" one of them asked Carl. Carl nodded, still wondering.

Without another word, the soldier opened the door, and Carl went inside. It was rather dark, but there was enough light to show Carl why he had been asked to come here. There were several people, a surgeon, a priest, Major Kowalski (his father's aide), and his father himself --wounded, and unconscious.

"What happened," Carl asked no one in particular, dashing to his father's side.

"The Major General was hit by a stray bullet," Major Kowalski answered.

"But he will get well again, won't he," Carl said anxiously, looking at the people surrounding him.

The surgeon shook his head. "Not likely, sir," he said. "I've done what was possible, but I am afraid that's it." He turned to Major Kowalski. "I have done my duty here," he said, "and I hope you will permit me to leave now. I am sure there are men out there to whom I can still be of use."

"Stay where you are," Carl hissed, furiously. "You won't go anywhere, sir, before you have done everything in your power to save him."

"So I have, sir," the surgeon answered.

Major Kowalski nodded at the surgeon. "You have my permission to leave, sir," he said.

The surgeon gave Carl another look, and left.

"There will be trouble," Carl said threateningly. "I am not going to accept such behaviour as this."

He knelt down by his father's side and felt his pulse. It was still there, though rather faint.

"He has lost too much blood already," Major Kowalski said. "He had no chance to survive this, sir. I knew the only thing I could do for him was fetch a surgeon and a priest ... and you, of course. I thought you might want to see him once more."

"I'd rather you had not," Carl said, quietly. "Because this is how I will remember him ... I'd rather have remembered him differently - alive, most of all."

"Yet you would have blamed yourself for not having been there with him when he died," Major Kowalski said.

Carl knew that the Major was right, but he did not want to admit it.

A sound from his father made Carl turn to him, and he noticed that his father's eyes were open now.

"I am here, Father," he said, quietly. The Baron nodded and smiled. If only he could say something, Carl thought, anything ... but he seems too weak for that already. How am I going to break the news to the people at home?

"I would like to stay with him for a while," Carl said to Major Kowalski. "Do you think that can be managed?"

"I shall take responsibility for that," Major Kowalski answered.

Carl nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"Is there anything you need, sir?" Kowalski asked.

Carl shook his head. No, not yet.

Kowalski had enough delicacy of feeling to leave father and son alone.

Half an hour later, a messenger set out in the direction of Hertenberg, carrying a letter for Baroness von Hertenberg. Snow started falling on the hills surrounding Austerlitz, and the final decision had taken place. The French had won, and the Austrian and Russian troops began their retreat.

Carl retreated, too ... into a different direction, though. Considering the service his father had rendered the country, Carl had been permitted to take his father home to be buried in the family tomb in Hertenberg. They had even allowed him to take some men with him ... but the only one Carl had been able to think of had been Novacek.

Horvàth had been nowhere to be found, or Carl would have asked for his assistance, too. Carl only hoped that nothing had happened to him. Losing his father had been bad enough, but losing his best friend, too, would be too much for him. Time would tell...

*****

A few days after that, Carl arrived at Hertenberg. It was dusk, and growing rather chilly again. The house was rather quiet, but then this was only to be expected. Certainly the news of Baron von Hertenberg's death had already reached the household, and a mourning household was quiet.

He opened the drawing room door and was surprised to find only Theresia there. She gave him a sad look.

"Where is everybody," Carl asked his cousin, after having greeted her.

"Marie is with her mother," Theresia answered. "We take turns in sitting with her. The news was so devastating for her that it made her ill, Carl. She has not left her room ever since."

Carl sighed. He had feared such a thing would happen, but he had yet had some hope.

"How is she," he asked.

"Very poorly," Theresia said.

"Do you think she will see me?"

"Frankly, I have no idea if she will, Carl."

"Has anyone written to Joseph?"

"I have," Theresia answered. "That is, I wrote down what your mother asked me to write. But I suppose he will not be able to come back home before spring -- going across the mountains now would be very difficult."

Carl had thought about that, too. So, he would be left on his own -- he would have to arrange everything, and would have to manage the estate as long as Joseph was gone. He would have to try and comfort his mother, and would most likely have to direct the household as well, with no one to help him but two young girls in their teens.

It would be a long winter.

Part V

Carl did not see his mother before the next day. When he entered her room, he was shocked to see how much she had changed. Theresia had told him that she had not been able to eat anything ever since she had heard about her husband's death, and looking at her one was tempted to believe that she had not eaten for weeks. She was thin, pale, and her eyes were red and swollen due to constant crying. It was obvious that she was making an effort to appear calm at the moment, but Carl was not quite sure how long her resolve would last. His father had once referred to her as "strong", but she did not look at all like that at the moment. On the contrary -- looking at her, Carl got the impression that he would, most likely, attend her funeral as well, before the year was over.

"How are you, Mama," he managed to say, hoping to postpone his report of how his father had died. She would not be up to hearing it, Carl was certain.

"Better," she said, quietly. "Theresia told me the funeral will take place tomorrow."

"Yes, that is...right. But you do not have to ... I mean, I am sure everyone would understand it if ... considering the circumstances..."

"Do you mean to suggest that I should not attend," Baroness von Hertenberg asked fiercely.

"Mama, I did not mean it that way," Carl said defensively. "We must consider your health..."

"Now, let me tell you one thing, young man," the Baroness said, suddenly sitting bolt upright, "even if I had to crawl, I would attend the funeral. It is the least thing I can do for your father, is it not? I could not be there with him when he died, so it is only fair if I will be with him now. Don't you dare suggest anything else!"

Carl nodded. He did not want to argue with his mother. If she felt up to it, she would go to the funeral, and somehow he felt that she would even attend it if she were not up to it. Perhaps he ought to have a word with the doctor. Women might not listen to their sons, perhaps, but the doctor's opinion would certainly be considered.

The Baroness leaned back in her pillows, and said, "It is a pity I cannot make the preparations the way I want to. How is Theresia getting on?"

"Amazingly well," Carl said. He had been quite surprised to see that the spoilt brat he had always thought Theresia to be was actually very capable of managing a household the size of Hertenberg -- even the housekeeper listened to her, and had expressed her surprise that a fifteen-year-old had so much common sense. She directed the servants effortlessly, leaving not a single doubt that there would be severe trouble if she found out about any sloppiness.

"I think the day when she arrived in Vienna was a lucky day for all of us," the Baroness said. "If it had not been for her ... Marie was much of a comfort, too, but I do not know how she would have dealt with that mess."

"I am quite sure Marie would rise to the occasion, if she had to," Carl said. "She has grown much more confident than she used to be."

"True, but much of it has been Theresia's doing," the Baroness said. "I wonder if Joseph has got his letter yet."

"Not very likely," Carl said. "In such conditions as these, I am sure it will take several weeks until he hears the news -- unless someone tells him before the letter arrives."

"Did he write to you," the Baroness asked Carl. "He never wrote to me, or your father. He did send Marie a letter now and then, or I would not know what he is about. Things are so difficult now; do you not think so, too? When Joseph left he was so furious, so hurt ... I cannot help but worry about the future. He is the heir..." The Baroness broke off, making an effort to suppress a sob.

Carl sighed. What could he say? He, too, had his doubts if peace could be restored between Joseph and his family -- in a way he could understand Joseph, but he really hoped that Joseph would be able to forgive and forget. Life in the Hertenberg household would become very difficult if this was not the case. On the other hand, Joseph had always been very good-natured. Certainly, even if he still bore a grudge, he would not show it, and he would do everything to avoid a quarrel. He had always been like that, and he had not changed -- hopefully. Even if Joseph was heir to the estate and title, Carl was certain that his father had taken all probabilities into account when making his will. There was a will, Carl knew that. His father had always made his will before he had had to join his regiment on a campaign. Another proof of how much of a realist the Baron had been.

"I think I will try to sleep now," the Baroness said. "I will need a lot of strength tomorrow. Will you just send Theresia in here for a few minutes? I want to ask her a few things concerning the funeral."

Carl nodded, and left. There was still a lot to do -- he had to meet the priest, for example, and the stonemason had wanted to consult him. Had Joseph been here, they could have taken up the load together, but Joseph was far away and blissfully ignorant.

He found Theresia in the kitchen, talking to the cook, discussing the meal to be served to the mourners after the funeral.

"Isn't it a bit ... frugal," the cook asked cautiously.

"A funeral is not a wedding," Theresia snapped. "People will come to pay their respects, they will not have the intention of stuffing themselves with food."

The cook gave Carl a pleading look. "What do you think, sir," she asked him.

"I am afraid I do not know enough about such matters to be of assistance," Carl said. "Perhaps it would be advisable to ask my mother for her opinion," he added diplomatically. "She wants to speak to you, anyway, Theresia."

Theresia nodded. "Fine. I shall ask Aunt what she thinks. But, in my opinion, a funeral meal should not give people the impression that we are celebrating something."

*****

In the afternoon, it began to snow heavily. It took only one hour, and the ground was covered with a thick layer of soft, fresh snow. Novacek was on his way back to Hertenberg. Miss von Laudeck had sent him to the forest to bring some fir branches. He liked Miss von Laudeck, and Miss von Hertenberg, too. They nearly made him believe that females were, on the whole, quite likeable. Well, there was his own sister, too, of course, there was nothing wrong with her, but he had sometimes wondered when exactly all those nice girls turned into harpies.

Like his wife. She had been sweet, gentle, lovely...until they had married. After that, she had started ordering him about, and nothing he ever did was good enough. The worst drill sergeants he had met in his military career were nothing in comparison to her - she had had her way of insulting him, oh yes, she had. Then there had been the day when he had caught her in the arms of their neighbour. His first impulse had been to go to the attic and hang himself -- but luckily he had thought the better of it. He had joined the army instead. Certainly, back home in Prague everyone would pity the poor husband whose wife was cheating on him while he was risking his life for King and country -- had he killed himself, they would have pitied her, the cheating fury. She had to work for her living, too -- he had left her in charge of his shop. Certainly now she would have less time for her lover.

A few months ago, she had written to him, asking him to come back, since he was so much needed back home. Of course, she had not been aware of the fact that he was very well informed about everything concerning her, and knew that her lover had finally got fed up with her and jilted her. Now she needed another fool to pay for her expenses. Bad luck for her -- she had placed her bets on the wrong horse and had lost. Novacek had been a fool once, but that did not mean that he had to continue being foolish. So he had told her in his reply.

He only hoped he would never be an invalid. He'd rather get killed. Being an invalid would mean that he'd have to depend on her mercy, since there was no one else to look after him. There was Rosa, his sister, of course, she would take him in, no doubt, but he did not want to be a burden on anyone. No, he'd rather die.

Novacek passed the gates of the Hertenberg estate, wading through deep snow, pulling a small cart filled with fir branches behind him. He hoped these would be enough -- Miss von Laudeck had said she needed them to make funeral wreaths, "as flowers are hard to come by at this time of year".

A clever girl, she was, astonishingly levelheaded in times of crisis. He wondered what the Baroness was like. He had not seen her yet, but he had heard the servants talk. What he had heard had not made a favourable impression on him -- her reaction on her husband's death was far too hysterical in his opinion, but he would not have said so. Perhaps he would be allowed to stay here, that would at least provide him with a place to stay for Christmas. He preferred celebrating Christmas with strangers than all by himself in the Viennese barracks -- or, even worse, in Prague with his wife. Besides, he had made friends with some of the stable hands already.

One of them greeted him in the courtyard and helped him to bring the fir branches downstairs into the kitchen.

"Are there many people here for the funeral," Novacek asked him. "Anyone arrived yet?"

"Just one, till now," the stable hand answered. "Young lad, friend of the Lieutenant's."

"Aren't there any relations," Novacek asked.

"Not many. The Laudecks live in the Tyrol, they are cousins of some sort, but one can't expect them to come -- they probably don't even know yet. Neither does the eldest son, I guess. As for their Viennese friends and relations -- just look at the weather. No one will bother themselves with a thirty -- mile journey in such weather as this. No, that's it, I think."

*****

There were not many people attending the funeral -- there were the people from Hertenberg village, and the servants and farmhands employed at the estate. There was Horvàth, whose arrival had surprised and pleased Carl, and there were the Hertenbergs, of course. Luckily, the priest had enough sense to make the mass a rather short affair, yet Carl noticed how his mother swooned more than once, and her smelling salts were applied frequently. Her black dress made her look sicklier than ever, she was thin, and looked much older that she was. Her wish to go through this painful procedure in her present state was utterly foolish, to say the least, but Carl refrained from saying so, knowing that nothing he could say would convince her.

When the last guests (except Horvàth) had left the house, the Baroness broke down and had to be taken to her room -- no doubt she would be bedridden in the days to come. The girls went with her, and Carl and Horvàth were left in the salon by themselves.

"Want a drink," Carl asked his friend.

"I would not say no to one for the tonsils," Horvàth answered, with a smile.

"Thank you for coming here," Carl said.

"Not worth mentioning," Horvàth said. "That is what friends are for, after all."

Carl handed him a glass of Brandy, and Horvàth took a sip.

"How long are you going to stay?" Carl asked.

"Not long. Once the weather gets a bit better, I'll be off. I am quite sure my mother will be quite out of her wits by now because I have not turned up yet."

"Did you not write to her?"

"Of course I did. The question is, did she get my letter? You know what it was like ... in that chaos, letters can get lost quite easily. Besides, I can imagine quite well what Vienna must be like at the moment."

Carl could imagine -- the streets were most likely full of soldiers, wounded ones being lodged wherever there was room -- probably the Hertenbergs' town house would be used as a hospital too, at the moment.

"Will we meet when I come back to Vienna?"

"Depends," Horvàth said, thoughtfully. "When will that be?"

"Not before spring, I am afraid. My mother has told me she will stay here until Joseph arrives. That will not be before...May, at the earliest, I'd say."

Horvàth laughed. "If duty does not take me away from Vienna, I suppose I will be there."

"Do you believe the war will go on?"

"Depends on our Emperor's homicidal tendencies," Horvàth said. "If he believes he has not done enough harm yet, the war will go on. If he has got a bit of common sense, he will surrender and wait for the next generation to be old enough to be slaughtered."

He saw Carl's expression.

"I am sorry, I should not..."

"No, it is all right, I know what you mean," Carl said. "Let us just hope that the Emperor does possess some common sense."

"You can just as well hope for a snail to write a three-volume philosophical treatise," Horvàth said.

Carl laughed. "I could get you arrested for insulting His Majesty, you know that, don't you?"

"Why do you think I said that," Horvàth asked, grinning. "I'd rather stay in prison for the rest of my life than face another battle like Austerlitz."

They both became earnest again. Another battle like Austerlitz. That would not happen. Hopefully.

*****

It was Christmas Eve in Laudeck. Joseph had been there ever since he had brought Martin back to his father's estate, and he had grown to love the place. It looked lovely, especially now, when the freshly fallen snow changed the surrounding scenery into some fairy tale country.

Martin had recovered sufficiently to go into the forest every two days, to feed the animals there, and Joseph joined him very often. The Laudecks were very friendly and treated him like a son of their own -- even better, as Martin had said once. Peace between Martin and his father was only partially restored -- one could rather call it a truce. Both were watching each other's movements closely, and the only reason why there had not been a quarrel yet was that Martin behaved unusually well at the moment. Perhaps he had really changed, but it was more likely that Martin was still recovering from his wound and did not feel up to mischief right now ... though Joseph suspected that there was one girl from the village whom Martin visited quite often. Certainly, this would not please Baron von Laudeck if he found out.

Joseph had made use of the first sunny day for a week to go out for a walk down to the village and back. It was chilly, but he did not care at all. The cold air made him walk briskly, and he felt alive.

Laudeck had done him good, Joseph was convinced of that. He could not claim he had forgotten Fiona -- he would never forget her -- but at least he had come to terms with having to live without her. He had begun to enjoy his life again -- to a certain extent. He was still not quite ready to follow Martin's advice to "get one woman out of your system with the help of another ". Joseph did not want to forget Fiona. She would always be special to him; he would always cherish her memory. But the thought of her did not hurt him as much as it had done first.

Joseph met the parish priest in the street and accepted his invitation to a cup of coffee into the parsonage. Father Francis was a nice fellow, in a way. They shared their interest for natural history; Father Francis had a large collection of sketches portraying the local fauna. They had spent many an evening discussing books they had read, or articles in scientific magazines.

"Have you had any news from home yet, Mr. von Hertenberg," the priest asked him. Father Francis was one of the few people familiar with Joseph's problems, and did not lose any opportunity to try and reconcile Joseph with his family.

"No, I have not," Joseph answered. "I did not expect any, either."

This was not true, however. Ever since he had heard that the French had taken Vienna, he had been worried about his mother and sister. As to his father and brother ... he hoped they would be fine, of course, but their whereabouts did not really interest him -- or so he kept telling himself. He did know there had been a fierce battle somewhere in Moravia, but he was sure that he would have heard about it if any of them had been harmed.

Father Francis watched him. He was certain that Mr. von Hertenberg only acted indifferently, but that he was, in fact, very worried about his family.

After about an hour, Joseph went back to Laudeck Castle. Baroness von Laudeck gave him a few letters that had arrived in the morning. Joseph looked them over -- there was one from Bàthory, posted in Hungary, and another one from Theresia. Theresia? Why did she write to him?

Anxiously, Joseph opened the letter and read it. Suddenly, life was not what it had been before. His father had died in battle ... his mother was ill ... and Theresia asked him to come back to Hertenberg as soon as possible. Of course he would ... only, WHEN would it be possible for him? Perhaps he ought to talk to Baron von Laudeck; perhaps he could go on one of the boats going down the river. It was dangerous in winter, but less dangerous than crossing the mountain passes at that time of year. He could get off the boat somewhere and hire a coach, once he had got past the mountains. But he had to get home somehow -- and somehow he had to demonstrate that he was a good son, after all. Had he known what would happen, he would have acted differently, no doubt, but now it was too late. His father was dead, and had died believing that his son had not forgiven him ... and without the chance to forgive his son.

How was Joseph to live with that?

*****

It was a sad homecoming, a few weeks later. It was Carl who welcomed Joseph at Hertenberg, rather surprised about his early arrival, but obviously glad to see him.

"How is everyone," Joseph asked anxiously. "Is my mother getting better?"

"She is getting better, yes," Carl answered. "Though she is not yet well enough to leave her room."

"The girls?"

"They are getting on, as far as I can tell," Carl said.

Joseph sighed. "If only I could have been here," he said.

"There were times when I wished so, too," Carl said. He sounded rather distant, Joseph thought. Well, they had never been the best of friends, it was true, but there was more to it...

"I am here now," Joseph said.

"Well, quite."

"What is it, Carl? Are you blaming me?"

"Blame you for what?" Carl asked.

"For what happened!"

"I do not blame you," Carl said. "Unless it was you who fired that bullet, that is."

"Don't be ridiculous," Joseph said.

"I did not have the intention to," Carl answered. "Anyway, now that you are here I think it is time to ask Father's lawyer about that will of his. Time to settle things, don't you think?"

******

Things had changed when the Hertenbergs returned to Vienna in spring 1806. The country had lost a war, and had lost some of its territory -- Theresia's home, for example, was no longer Austrian, but part of the Kingdom of Bavaria. It had paid to be Napoleon's ally. Considering the present situation, Theresia's parents had asked Joseph to allow Theresia to stay in Vienna until things had finally settled down, and Joseph had been glad to oblige them.

Joseph, the new Baron von Hertenberg, did his best to keep the family together. There had been reconciliation between him and his mother, and Carl had got over his initial coldness towards him. Yet, there was a distance between them that had not been there before -- they both knew it, but none of them seemed to be able to do anything about it.

Being head of the family brought on new responsibilities for Joseph. He was his sister's guardian, for example, a position that made him feel rather awkward. Even if his mother was to help him in that, somehow Joseph felt that it was not so easy to be responsible for a girl of Marie's age.

The family estate gave him some trouble, too. He was determined to pursue his plans to expand it, and that meant a great deal of work. But work was good. Work made him forget about his problems. Most of the time.

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

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