Chapter Eighteen: Blood in the Streets
August 10, 1076
Praha, the capitol of Bohemia. In 1076, Duke Leopold II burned it to the ground.
Adalbert urged his horse forward. Behind him, Praha burned. Foul, black smoke poured out of the Bohemian capitol. An arrow whizzed past his head and he heard his brother yelling at his men for missing.
The duke's dark laughter rang in his ears as yesterday's events replayed in his head.
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August 9, 1076
Wilhelm and Adalbert were inspecting the siege equipment together. Ever since Wilhelm had saved him at the Battle of Pilsen, the two men had become fast friends. Over the course of the war, the two had spent nearly all their time together planning, talking, or practicing sword play.
Now Adalbert was telling Wilhelm of his plans to usurp Leopold's throne. "My brother is a fool, unfit to be the duke of anything," said Adalbert bitterly.
"He sounds like an ass," said Wilhelm, "I'll make sure my brother supports you when the time comes."
"My thanks," said Adalbert.
The two men talked for a little longer, until Emich wandered over to his father. "Father, uncle would like to speak to you. Oh, and you, Wilhelm. He said it was urgent."
"Did he say what it was about?" asked Adalbert, "Or is he just being an ass?"
Emich's face was carefully blank. "I'm quite sure I don't understand what you mean."
Adalbert looked at his son, before nodding. "I'm sure you don't. Lead the way, my boy."
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As Emich, Adalbert, and Wilhelm walked towards the duke's tent, a man opened its flap and brushed past them. Once they were all in the tent, Adalbert pointed at the receding figure of the man and said, "One of your special friends?"
Wilhelm snickered quietly and Leopold's face turned bright red. "Make your jokes, if you will," said the duke, "but I have called you here to tell you some wonderful news: my spies have been able to infiltrate the city and assure me that if we storm the city now, we can easily take it."
"Your spies?" asked Adalbert, raising an eyebrow. "Why didn't we know about these sooner?"
Leopold shrugged. "It never seemed important to me. We attack at night fall."
"Excuse me?" asked Wilhelm, "When was this decided?"
"When I received the news from my spies," said Leopold, "Now, go ready the men. That is all."
Adalbert and Wilhelm stormed out of the tent, Leopold's gaze turned to his nephew. "You are sure about your information?"
Emich shrugged. "All information has some falsities, uncle, but I assure you that what I have told you is mostly true."
"Good," said Leopold, "very good indeed." He stared at his tent's roof, "Soon, I'll finally be rid of my brother." His gaze swung back Emich. "And its all thanks to you, my boy. I have never been prouder."
Emich shrugged again. He wasn't doing this for his uncle's approval. He was doing it for his grandfather's.
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August 10, 1076
It was well past mid-night and Adalbert was dead tired. The assault of Praha had gone off with out a hitch, and the Imperial armies were standing inside the Bohemian capitol. Now the men were arguing over what to do with their prize.
"I promised Vratislav I would burn Praha to the ground!" shouted Leopold.
"We are not barbarians!" shouted Adalbert back, "Besides, what would be the point?"
"The point is that we are the victors," said Leopold.
"I must agree with uncle," said Emich quietly, "Burning Praha would show that the Emperor means business and that the Empire is strong."
Adalbert stared at his son as if he was a completely different person. "So, you'd rather side with your bastard of an uncle than with your own father?"
"Enough!" bellowed Wilhelm, "As the chancellor and brother of the Emperor, I declare that we shall leave Praha intact!"
Leopold looked ready to say something, but Emich beat him to it. "No," said the boy, "I think we will burn it to the ground."
"Who are you-" started Wilhelm.
Quick as a snake, Emich pulled out his sword and stabbed him in the stomach, then in the chest. Adalbert stared at his son. "How...why?"
Emich was busy wiping his sword off on his pants' leg. "He was in the way," he said. His gaze swung to meet his father's stare. "I have convinced uncle to let you have a five minute head start. Consider it an act of love."
"You...you..demon spawn!" shouted Adalbert, "How I ever called you son. I'll never know!"
"I will not have you talking to my heir and new marshal like that," said Leopold merrily.
"Your...heir and new marshal?" stuttered Adalbert, "But he's barely thirteen!"
"I think you will find that as the Duke of Austria, I can appoint whom I want," Leopold said coldly.
"You have four minutes of your head start left," said Emich into his father's stunned silence.
Casting one last look at his son and brother, Adalbert ran from the tent. Emich turned to his uncle, who was twitching with energy. "Patience, uncle. Soon you'll have what you want."
Leopold smiled and said, "Sometimes, Emich you seem wiser than your years suggest."
Emich smiled. "I've had a lot of help." In his head, Ernst laughed happily.