Chapter 4 C : A Crown of Blood and Bitterness -
A Wedding and Four Funerals
Sovereign Albrecht I von Hohenzollern, since 22 May 1431 ...
"The usurper of
Holland has grown fat and lazy, bloated with success. He only thinks of himself, and has forgotten all his friends and allies - those who have made him what he is today. No longer shall I stand in the shadows - the time has come to strike! Soon, all his illusions will collapse around him, and he will be brought low, whether in anger or in anguish. And once he is dead, I shall assume my rightful place as Sovereign."
"Hmmhmm ... you're so cute when you talk that way, you know. Anyway, I made some cookies, just for you!"
"S ... shut up! You're ruining my dramatic speech practice here!"
"Don't be silly, love. And take that getup off before you get crumbs all over it!"
You see, it's hardly my fault when my best attributes don't even show up in EU3!
And yes, my attributes add up to exactly 18 years of age. Well done me.
Amsterdam. The late summer of 1443.
"So, my lord! After four years of courtship, the day has finally arrived, and I thought I'd come on over just to keep you company and wish you well!"
"T... thank you, Duke Jean. Your kind words are much appreciated."
Lord Albrecht stood in the middle of his throne room, haplessly draped in measuring tape with his arms stretched right out, as a pair of tailors fitted him out for a brand new suit. The guards were instructed to keep the door shut, lest the Chancellor burst into the room on matters of business and find his lord in such a pitiful state.
"But most of all, I'm certain you appreciated my advice about getting hitched! You're two years past thirty and not exactly a pretty sight, well here you are getting married to this lovely young thing!"
"You're one to talk - you're a whole decade older than me, you beanpole." Albrecht replied in mock cynicism.
"Yes, Bertie! And I'm more years ahead still, in raising a little bundle of joy to carry on the family name! Why, she's just of the right age to..." Jean de Valois trailed off, smiled wistfully as he imagined what could have been.
"The age difference would be awkward, really. I'm glad Gisele was the one for me," Albrecht reasoned, relaxing as the tailors finally removed the tape from his body and gathered their belongings to leave. "I just don't think about these matters of the heart - if they happen, they happen, and they did for me."
"Very good, my liege!" Jean glanced behind to see if the tailors were indeed gone - that no others were in the room, before narrowing his eyes and giving Lord Albrecht a cheeky grin. "So, just tell me ... has that particular matter of the heart happened yet?"
"Wh ... what matter?" said Albrecht, confused.
"You know what I mean, Bertie,
that!" Jean inquired saucily, "You know, what your dear brother once told me. A 'Two-way military access agreement'. With Brandenburg".
"Yes, of course, a long time ago ... oh wait! You mean ..." Albrecht slapped his own cheek in embarrassment, "no,
no! As I am a Christian soul, no! If her father found out ..."
"He'd probably chide you for your lack of ambition, non?"
"Shut up. Speaking of which ..."
Lord Albrecht hushed Jean silent with a wave of his palm. Voices could be heard chattering outisde.
"I think he's already here. Shall we welcome our guest of honour?" As his associate nodded assent, Lord Albrecht stepped forward and drew open the heavy wooden doors of the throne room.
I think the person who wrote the text for this event is probably the same one who wrote all of those 'press releases' in Vicky 2.
"... similar incidents have occurred over the previous two years. Tension has flared over Castille's interest in the region, and how they have been brutally suppressing nationalist and patriot rebellions against their rule." Chancellor Johan Spijkenisse was discussing some diplomatic matters with a stranger as they stood in the corridor before the throne room.
"... but as you say, relations remain excellent. As long as your country maintains her strength, Castille will find easier targets on which to exercise her frustration. The concept of there ever being a 'Castillian Low Counties' is abhorrent to nature." The stranger was a hoary old man, of above average height, with a wrinkled forehead and receding crown, his hair white with age. Despite his elderly appearance, he cut an impressive figure as he stood ramrod straight like a soldier, with polished pauldrons that held a cloak on his shoulders.
"... hence the need for caution in the second phase of our project to subjugate the promised land to the east. Although gaining the early advantage, we've suffered several reverses due to a lack of field intelligence, and ..."
"Senior Representative ... no,
General Johann Cicero von Zweibrücken!"
"Lord Albrecht! My boy! It's been five years since I've seen you!"
The two sovereigns embraced each other warmly. However, the older man was tall enough, and his embrace tight enough, that Albrecht's face smacked straight into one of his pauldrons with an audible thump.
"Well, Bertie, I guess your first impression with Dad-in-law went pretty well, despite your best attempts to fluff it," Duke Jean remarked nonchalantly.
"Don't talk down to me, Jean!" Albrecht said as his father-in-law to be released him from his grasp. "General von Zweibrücken and I have been friends since we first met in Berlin - but this is the first time he has ever visited
Holland. I certainly hope you've been able to take in some of the sea during your visit here, sir!"
"Certainly, my son," General von Zweibrücken affirmed, while at the same time exchanging a warm handshake with Jean de Valois. "It reminds me how much we long to have the same back in Brandenburg ... after settling a little business with Pommerania, of course. If I had known your country was so beautiful, I would have insisted that we hold the wedding here."
"You flatter me, sir. All credit is due to the people of
Holland." Albrecht replied, "but I am certainly looking forward to visiting your ancestral estates in the Rhenish Palatinate. I have faith that the necessary preparations are in place."
The coat of arms of the County of Zweibrücken, in the Rhineland-Palatinate
The house of Palatinate-Zweibrücken were a cadet branch of the Wittelsbach family ruling in the Palatinate.
"But I am curious about one thing, dear General," asked Duke Jean, "Where is Gisele?"
"Ah yes, of course, the bride!" General von Zweibrücken smiled warmly. "Since there appears to be a dearth of serving-ladies in your residence ('My apologies, sir!'), my daughter has enlisted the help of your seconder, your 'best man', in making the appropriate preparations."
"And that would be our Marshal of the Mint, Kaspar Bolsward." Chancellor Spijkenisse affirmed. In his heart, he longed to have the honour of supporting his lord in the happiest moment of his life. And yet he knew that his flighty temperament was a little unsuited for matters of ritual when compared with Kaspar's serious nature, and Lord Albrecht did note that the General was a man of extreme formality. Instead, Johan had agreed to remain in Amsterdam to oversee the affairs of state during his lord's absence.
"We will depart Amsterdam once preparations are complete, and we have received the wedding attire, crafted by your masterwork tailors in Antwerp," said General von Zweibrücken, as he again warmly shook Lord Albrecht's hand. "If all goes well, the marriage shall be formalised on the autumn solstice."
"But pardon me, my lord Sovereign, if I could just ask, as a matter of state ..." Johan interrupted, "may I inquire if the appropriate security measures are in place? In truth ... my liege has rarely left Amsterdam due to fears about a threat to his life."
The concern was real. The news of Lord Albrecht's wedding had not been publicised, lest it attract unwanted attention, but rumours had spread that the Sovereign of
Holland had been seen around a pretty blonde girl, and was thus probably not that queer after all.
"Fear not, good Chancellor," the general explained, "as an entire battalion of my most loyal soldiers shall work with the men of
Holland to guard us on the journey from Amsterdam to Zweibrücken, with half assigned to escort the happy couple on their return journey. In addition, we have arranged to hire a band of Swiss mercenaries for the day of the wedding in Zweibrücken. They are the best there are, and we have lined their pockets well enough to ensure that they will not be swayed by an enemy."
"And, of course, your fine sword arm as well, General," added Lord Albrecht. The Sovereign of Brandenburg had not risen to the status he now held through diplomatic manoeuvres alone. "I am no fighter, so I place our safety in your hands."
"Fear not, son!" the general boomed as he gave Albrecht one last friendly thump on the shoulder, "for after the ceremony, to honour God and the ancestors of both our houses, you and my daughter shall return to Amsterdam triumphant in matrimonial bliss."
"Heh ... triumphant bliss indeed," chuckled Duke Jean as he stepped forward to escort General von Zweibrücken from the palace. "So, I was just speaking with dear Bertie earlier, and he confessed that ..."
"Oh? The lad certainly has self-restraint!"
Their words trailed off as they ambled down the hallway. Lord Albrecht breathed a sigh of relief as he stood in the corridor, with only his Chancellor beside him.
"So ... my lord, I, and certainly all of
Holland, will pray for your happiness."
"Thank you, Johan. I would never have got to where I am today, together with Gisele, without all of you. Yourself, Kaspar, Jean ... and Hardy ... and Alfredo ..."
"And thank you too, my liege ..."
Seeing that Lord Albrecht was at that very moment on the verge of tearing up, Johan thought it was best to change the subject to save his lord's blushes. "Now, on to state matters, we've received reports from General Venloo in the Promised Land. We've recovered from our reverses in the Second War of
Holland's Destiny against the nation of Vihara, and have finally managed to rout their army of their King after two years of persistent skirmishes ..."
Seems like a small army? Hell no, that's what's left of a 18k stack that kept retreating into Terra Incognita.
And that is what is left of my 10k stack of Men at Arms/2k cavalry.
Lord Albrecht von Hohenzollern of
Holland trembled nervously, as he sat in the carriage across from his loyal Marshal and best man Kaspar Bolsward. Perhaps it was the whistling of the autumn wind in the Rhineland, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, or the rattle of the carriage's wheels as they struck the odd stone in the road. Albrecht was worried.
Marshal Kaspar bore a longsword at his waist - although he admitted not having much practice in combat since becoming a councillor, he swore to defend his lord to the last breath. At the front and back of the carriage, there also sat several armed and lightly armoured men - four Dutch, and two Saxon, with the driver of the carriage also a trained soldier and cavalryman. A short distance ahead of them, Sovereign Johann Cicero von Zweibrücken of Brandenburg and his daughter Gisele travelled under similar security, with a small escort ahead of, between, and behind both carriages.
"Are you afraid, my lord?" asked Marshal Kaspar, trying to ease his lord's worries.
"Yes ... yes, I am," Albrecht confessed, unable to conceal his fluster, "It's at times like this that I think about Hardy, and Alfredo, and just what might have been going through their minds the moments before they were killed. It's like they haunt me, Kaspar. Angels of God they may now be, but their memory follows me still!"
"I am sworn to protect you, sire," Kaspar said, "and I would sooner die than let the slightest hair on your head be injured. Think, too, of General von Zweibrücken, and how he would give his life to defend you and your bride. We, and the soldiers with us, will guard you from harm."
"I thank you for your reassurance, but still I fear. Everything reeks of treachery and death. Remember that inn which we planned to stay at, the one with carpenters working at the balconies? At the back of my mind, I felt the place had an odd smell of manure, and persuaded the General to depart. We rode in such a way as to avoid hunting parties, archery contests - even that book depository with the ominous figure in its windows. My suspicions have delayed our travel, and we will miss the planned day of the wedding. My father-in-law must be furious with me, for sure!"
"You were only doing what you felt was right, my lord," said Kaspar, grasping his trembling lord by the shoulder, "I am certain that the General shares your concerns, and will do anything to alleviate them."
"I can only hope you are correct, Kaspar ..."
"Have you given your bride a last kiss before she puts on her veil, my lord?"
Kaspar spoke with Lord Albrecht as they stood, just steps ahead of the front pew of the church, and well within earshot of the priest. He knew the question was a little inappropriate, but then again he was his lord's second, and one of the second's privileges was the right to ask inappropriate questions.
"I did, Kaspar. Last night." Lord Albrecht looked splendid in his luxurious silk robe, crafted by the most skilled tailors of Antwerp, that seemed to glisten when it caught the rays of the evening sun. Kaspar's attire was no less fine, but it was outshone by the glittering gems set in the sword of honour which he wore by his side.
"Oh, that's what you were doing?" Kaspar remarked, and gave a wry smile, "That must have been a very long kiss, then. Your personal guard informed me that you didn't retire until the early hours of the morning."
Lord Albrecht blushed guiltily. It was hard to explain just how he felt to anyone else, when the only way he could describe it was the sensation which welled up in him upon gazing into Gisele's beautiful eyes.
Apart from the happy couple, the couple's seconds, and the priest, the church was empty, devoid of a single guest. Such were the security arrangements Albrecht had agreed with General von Zweibrücken - they had jointly agreed that the union be commended to God, their relations in heaven, and no one else. The guards waited outside, surrounding the church - unfortunately, due to the delay in their arrival, their contract with the Swiss mercenaries had expired and they had to hire some impromptu replacements.
A creak resonated throughout the church as the door edged open...
"Quick, in your position!" Kaspar snapped as he seized his lord by the arm, and dragged him to the front of the priest where they stood to attention.
There came the sound of light footsteps, accompanied by the heavy thud of military boots and the clank of a general's sword in its scabbard, as the bride entered the church flanked by her father. Her dress was resplendent, an outfit which was modest, yet allowed her tantalising golden locks to roll just beyond the hood of her veil. Pausing before they approached the first pew in the church, both stopped, and General von Zweibrücken turned to face Albrecht's bride. The most heart-wrenching moment for any father - the moment where he gives his farewell kiss to his daughter, before sending her off to her new life of matrimonial bliss.
Johann Cicero von Zweibrücken, Sovereign of Brandenburg, gently placed his right hand beneath the tip of the bride's chin, and raised it ...
"What is this!" cried General von Zweibrücken as he recoiled in horror, clutching his right hand to his chest as if it had been stung by acid. "My daughter ... my daughter has never had need of a shaving razor!"
Enranged, the General tore the bride's veil from her face with his other hand, the sheer force of his movement taking the bride's golden wig with it. Before him, there stood not his daughter, Gisele von Zweibrücken, but a ginger-haired young man, his features still polished with the vigour of youth, aided by the expertise of cosmetics. It was the General alone who could see the fire of hatred which burned in the young man's eyes.
Instinctively, Kaspar drew his own sword as he raised his free hand to shield his lord, but the General could not react in time. Tearing the bridal scarf from his shoulders, the impostor reached into the bosom of the wedding dress with his other hand, and drew a hidden dagger of the finest Wallonian make. It took but the blink of an eye - and blood spurted from the General's jugular, staining the pure white of the bride's dress.
Lord Albrecht could only watch, paralysed in his panic, as his father-in-law to be struggled vainly to reach for the sword at his waist, before he was overcome by the blow. General von Zweibrücken fell backwards over the pew, splintering the wood with his weight, never to rise again.
"To me! Attack!" the youth cried in a voice that seemed more suited to someone half his age - or, a woman. It was then that the mystery assailant turned to face lord Albrecht - and he knew that same hatred as did the General in his last moments. "Kill the usurper!
Kill them all!"
The impostor bride then averted his eyes, and darted out the door of the church. At that moment there came a terrible roar, which seemed to surround Lord Albrecht, coming from every which way - the sound of battle, the clash of metal against metal, the sickening crack of metal against bone. The church was under attack, and Albrecht and Kaspar were trapped in the middle of it.
As an elderly man who was no fighter at all, the priest too cowered and ducked under the altar. But Lord Albrecht continued to stand dumbly in the middle of the supposed sanctuary. A blade struck the wooden door of the church, before a cry rang out as a man was cut down - the assailants were trying to force their way into the building. Light streamed into the church as the weight of a fallen corpse forced the unattended doors open, and three men who were obviously brigands charged toward the altar. Seeing enemies approaching, Kaspar Bolsward swore loudly and roughly struck his lord over the chest with the side of his arm in an attempt to get him to drop prone - it only succeeded in knocking him to his knees. It would have to do. Resolve filled his spirit, and Kaspar drew a deep breath. Raising his free hand to his lips, he kissed the ring he wore upon it. Then, he set into the first of his opponents.
Albrecht saw Kaspar turned to face him and mouth something, but he could not hear a word. He could only hear the sound of his heartbeat, the blood coursing through his veins. What of Gisele? What of his love? What of all his dreams? As battle raged around the church, it was as if Albrecht's life, and everything he believed in, was collapsing around him.
As he fell to his knees, wracked by inner torment, he saw Kaspar engage with three men at once. The first seemed to underestimate Kaspar's resolve and was cut down with a single swift stroke, but the next two flanked the loyal minister and swung at him from two directions. One blow was parried, but the second cut into the shoulder of his sword-hand, rendering it almost useless. In a last desperate lunge, Kaspar flung himself at one of the men, striking him in the chest with his boot and pinning him to the ground, knocking his sword away, before collapsing atop him and using his bodyweight to drive his sword into the enemy's chest.
The third enemy, seeing that the last defender had been rendered helpless, advanced toward the Lord of
Holland. Albrecht closed his eyes, and saw not his executioner's appearance, or his insignia, or even the glint of the blade as the enemy raised it. He saw only the eternal paradise which God commended to him, and heard the soothing voice of his wife, cooing into his ear.
"No!" came a cry, a woman's cry, and Albrecht's tightly-shut eyes sprung open.
A slender figure with long golden hair wrestled with the enemy soldier, attempting to use both hands to restrain the soldier's sword arm. The soldier roared in anger, whirled about, and reached for something at his waist with his other hand.
With a terrifying shriek that shattered Albrecht's senses, the slender figure fell to the ground, as blood streamed from the dagger which the soldier now wielded in his off-hand. Was this a dream, or a nightmare?
The soldier paused for a moment to catch his breath - a foolish mistake, and his last one. With his back turned, the soldier did not see Kaspar Bolsward stagger up behind him, grasping his sword in both hands, and sending it through the middle of his skull. Exhausted, and bleeding profusely from his shoulder wound, Kaspar fell to the ground beside the body of the soldier, and his victim, the slender figure Albrecht saw, with flowing golden hair.
The roar of battle no longer seemed to register in his ears. Instead, there came the tromp of heavy boots, and the cry of men advancing toward him, as everything else seemed to diminish into insignificance. Albrecht blacked out.
"My lord! My lord Albrecht! Are you listening?"
The Lord of
Holland, thirty and three years of age, did not respond. His eyes were glazed over as he sat stiffly on a plain, uncushioned chair in his official residence in Amsterdam, overlooking a bed upon which lay a man with a bound shoulder. The man had lain there unconscious, but still alive, for several months, having fainted from an excessive loss of blood. Now, it had became clear that he would never wake again, and it was as if his liege had fallen into a coma of his own.
Chancellor Johan Spijkenisse, the last remaining senior councillor, tried to rouse his liege to attention by grasping and roughly shaking his shoulder, but only succeeded in getting his lord to raise his head, and gaze at him with the same blank emotionless stare.
"Let me speak with him," came a voice from the doorway to the room. Duke Jean de Valois of Brabant stood there, sounding uncharacteristically serious and stern. "He is no longer a child. He must know his responsibilities. I will bring him round."
"Duke Jean? Are you sure about this?"
"I give you my word, Johan. After all, I have been like a substitute father, have I not?" Speaking those words, Jean then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a kerchief, within which was wrapped several freshly baked cookies. "And I deal with these sorts of issues with my daughter all the time."
It was as if reality no longer mattered to Lord Albrecht. He had sat overlooking Kaspar's body for almost an entire day since the physician certified his death. In the months that had passed since the Incident at Zweibrücken, the administration of
Holland had fallen into disarray, by all accounts due to its sovereign's complete impassivity. The Chancellor had attempted to enlist the help of Duke Jean, and the other vassal dukes of Oldenburg and Friesland, but the lack of any leadership figure had made it impossible to come to a firm decision on matters of national importance.
It still wasn't clear whether Lord Albrecht even understood that his wife and his father-in-law were dead. The body of Sovereign Johann Cicero von Zweibrücken of Brandenburg was found in the church, his throat cut open by a dagger. The enemy had managed to gain the service of the mercenaries by offering them a better deal at short notice, suggesting that they had a backer more powerful still than Brandenburg or
Holland. Lady Gisele had been found in her bedroom, bound and strangled, and after an extensive search, the undressed corpse of one of her serving maids was also found, stripped of her outer wear. Apparently this was the means by which Lady Gisele's assailant was able to access her quarters. In all, the surviving soldiers counted almost three score dead, including the dignitaries who had perished, and ignoring about fifty traitorous mercenaries who had been cut down to the last man.
And then there was the matter of Brandenburg. The lords of Brandenburg, Electorate of the Holy Roman Empire, had deliberated upon a response after receiving news of their sovereign's passing.
Holland's ambassador received their reply only just days before Kaspar's death - it was an ill decision, even if it was right and proper.
There are so many things wrong with this. If you don't understand, consider very closely just what I'm trying to accomplish in this particular game as Holland.