The Fall of Freiburg Part I

Young Rene ducked Housekeepers stick. "Out, all of you out." she yelled. All the children and young servants hastily left by the only open door into the back kitchen behind the giant stoves. Rene was bored. There were so many guests, gentry, visitors and servants that he couldn't play anywhere. It was third feast day and the blizzard outside howled and showed no signs of letting up. Night had come but it was still early and ages till dinner. The light from the hob of the stove lit up the ancient features of Old Ambrose. The others shoved Rene and he fell forward into the light and bumped against Ambrose's rapier.

Quicker than a cat Old Ambrose snatched him up. "Oohh" gasped the others as they held their breath. Now he gazed fearfully into Old Ambrose's sunken beady eyes. "Story!" he blurted. "Housekeeper said to ask you for a story" he lied. Old Ambrose drew his rapier and it made a steely sound. He pointed it round the room and the young ones drew back against the wall. They all knew Housekeeper warned them not to see Old Ambrose. A cold gust rattled down the chimney and they all shivered except Old Ambrose. He gently placed Rene down and found an old yellow parchment in a case behind the chair. The fire cast light up one side of his heroic features. Then his old firm voice spoke.

I remember it like this morning but it was two score or more years ago. I was watched. My old hunting instincts were ringing. Freiburg was never safe. Even just buying fish from the barrow in the 'Greens'. It was a grey wintry day and the leaden clouds promised snow but hadn't delivered it yet. There were many other servants buying food for the day. As the fish was wrapped I looked out of the corners of my eyes. I saw no one.

"Ambrose" whispered a Montaigne voice behind me. I turned slowly and held the shopping basket at a protective height before my heart. A good swordsman in those days could have cut me down faster than he could say "Ambrose". My right hand grasped this sword hidden by the basket. In front of me was a greying man in his forties with the pinched pale features of those that starve and freeze to death. He was in year old winter fashion that had seen many better days. He extended his empty blue-white hands "Monsieur save me". I hesitated; I hadn't heard my native accent for so long. "Remember the hunt, the steaming umble pie.." and the beggar began to weep. His rusty voice had choked up and the tears streamed down his face.

"You have been following me?" I asked. The crying beggar nodded and then bowed low. The ease and grace of the bow hinted at noble blood and the accent was of Arrent. "Duboise?" I ventured. "Qui, Rene Duboise at your service" stated the beggar but his eyes were full of tears. "I'm sorry, so sorry about your leg" stammered the beggar as he began to shiver. Who was this man? Accosting, apologising then crying? Then like a fire growing in kindling I knew.

I handed Rene my basket and motioned for him to follow. And then I started to laugh. It started quietly but by the end of the block I had to stop and let it fully out. I laughed at the situation and then I laughed as I thought of the possibilities. Soon a snowflake on my cheek warned me to continue home and I did, chuckling all the way.

In the warm kitchen of Drachenheim manor I sprawled on a chair and put my feet on the table. Rene looked around but all he could see were the sturdy Eisen servants making porridge and some guards sharpening their weapons and warming themselves. One of them asked me something in the harsh Eisen language and then kept his pale blue eyes fixed on Rene. Rene stood near the stove and put an ingratiating and appealing look on his features.

"You are my old master Rene Duboise. So what did you do after you shot me?", I demanded.

"It was an accident Monsieur, my horse shifted, the gun went off and I narrowly missed the Duke and his guests. I left immediately and went to my distant cousin Le Beau. You know Monseigneur that I am the seventh son of the seventh son. Our family the Duboise are famous for their hospitality, huge families and friendliness. Our huge families mean that large numbers fall to the trades. However we are snapped up as cooks and innkeepers. It was said that no matter where a traveller went in Montaigne, there was always a Duboise to welcome them. Until now..." and the tears overcame Rene.

Leaning forward I hissed "And did you spare a thought for your humble servant, who had a particularly nasty and ragged penetrating wound? Did you think of him as he battled delirium, an infected leg that took months and months to heal? Did you put in a good word for him so he could be put on light duties till he recovered? But pray do continue."

"Le Beau had an inn on the highway to Charouse. He took me on as apprentice chef. Eventually I married Renee his fifth daughter and he set me up with an inn a day's travel away towards Charouse. We had three daughters and a son. Unfortunately my wife died giving birth to my son. The girls got married and I was looking to hand over to my son.

A gang of rough soldiers came to the inn. They refused to pay for their drinks. Without warning they shot my son in the bar, tied me up and then set fires and burnt the inn down. Luckily my ropes burnt before I did and I escaped. I went to Charouse to seek justice and compensation. But the people have gone mad. It made no sense so I wrote it down. But it still doesn't make any sense."

Old Ambrose looked at the parchment in his hand. This is that sheet of paper. Then he read it:

24 Novus Attempted execution of Private Jerome starts a riot lasting 2 weeks
25 Novus dissolution of musketeers, disappearance of Dominique du Montaigne
27 Novus L'Empereur disappeared, Miriam du Montaigne killed
4 Dec. Evelyne Montaigne Executed and twin Rosamond captured
5 Dec Rosamond rescued by Ysabette her sister
11 Dec Nicolette Du Montaigne executed, Jacob's Political Society calls for a new Government
12 Dec Body of L'Empereur found near coast, nobles being sought and killed everywhere
14 Dec Death of Rene Jnr and inn burnt down
21 Dec Arrived Charouse worked as a chef at Le Nouvelle Poisson
27 Dec Met Jan Riche du Paroisse and transported to Freiburg

Once I finished reading it I glared at Rene. "If you are going to kill me, make it quick" he pleaded. Rene shut his eyes, clasped his hands and knelt on the floor.

"Non" I said as I motioned the other servants. Rene heard the sound of something thumped on the table before him, it made a damped metallic sound like an axe put there. Inn tales and imagination must have supplied Rene with plenty of slow ways to die. Rene's nose was starting to thaw and it twitched. He could smell something like wet cardboard. After what seemed to him an eternity he slowly opened an eye. In front of him was a steaming pewter bowl of 'porridge'.

"Eat" I commanded. It tasted worse than it smelt, it felt like sand on the tongue and left the feeling of cement in the stomach. Only a dying man can eat it gratefully. Rene finished the bowl gratefully.

He looked over the bowl and saw a twinkle in my eye. I laughed. I laughed more. It was the best joke. Rene then created a wonderful breakfast for me. It was superb. I ordered him to stay as cook. I was sick of 'porridge' too.

Rene prepared brunch and started work on some mince for lunch. We arrived in the dining room to hear Borstenn state that 'porridge' was contrary to Vesten custom and that Vesten warriors needed more meat and that without a cook's attention. He thumped the butt of his axe on the new table and scowled around the room. Rene took the sentiment much to heart and served Borstenn with the raw lunch mince. The rest enjoyed bread, cheese, kippers, bacon and eggs. There was not a bowl of porridge in sight.

Rene hadn't detailed what had happened in Charouse. When I asked he refused to tell. He only answered to Rene or Cook. He made me promise not to tell anyone who he was. With a talent like his such promises are unbreakable. But on leaving he had chosen to go to a devastated war zone . He didn't speak the language and was not equipped to survive there.

Rene arrived on the 27th Decimus and on the 28th the mob ransacked the place he was sheltering in. Dandelion and the others had caught the mob in the final stages of looting and put them to flight. Then Felix and his gang had fought them. Dandelion had apparently been enraged and wanted revenge on Felix for killing his Uncle Henri [the original owner of the puzzle blade]. According to Avon's account the others had concentrated on Felix as well. Felix's gang soon were all dead and Felix ran for it. He was not so fortunate this time and was cornered. Somehow he managed to surrender and survive. The Wachunde took him to the Stein.

The companions had been in black moods since the expedition into Posen and somehow this incident had made it worse. Dandelion had gone to look at his manor and returned carrying the headless body of old Jacques the gardener. Old Jacques had been quite a ladies man in his time but his real gift was with children. They all adored him. Even the duchess had a soft spot for him and she must have been over seventy. Dandelion's only comment was "burnt, all ruined." He didn't seem to know what to do with the body. Eventually it was buried in the garden with vaticine rites. Dandelion said he had spoken to the sculptress about getting busts made of Von Tannen and Giancarlo. He also said he had written to Giancarlo's family but he only wrote to the Espositos when Antonio Mondavi arrived.

I was worried because Dandelion was starting to drink like Trague and starting to make as little sense as some of the other Eisenfürst. Apparently most nations of the world had signed a treaty about Cabora. It was a syrneth island that had appeared in the mirror sea. The treaty is that no one will go there. While discussing the treaty we all remembered Borstenn [except Borstenn] waking us up on watch some months ago to say that something dreadful and portentous had risen up out of the sea. The next day when Dandelion had gently alluded to things rising out of the sea Borstenn said only the sun rises out of the sea. Borstenn had been screaming at night and as Dandelion's room is next door, I moved to the kitchen. I should mention that Avon from Avalon has recently joined the companions. He would be described by some veterans as 'Too pretty to live' but he seems polite, decent and is reputed to be a crack shot with the longbow.

The companions were invited to meet Trague [Freiburg's Eisenfürst] on the night of the 28 or 29. They had set off nonchalantly enough. Dandelion had worn a new outfit but told me it would need stitching soon. Some incident always happened to ruin his best clothes. Apparently Trague was his usual enigmatic self and drank half a dozen bottles of wine while they were there. He had talked to them of life and death, good and evil and striving to do better. Some of Trague's words had deeply upset Dandelion, though he endeavoured not to show it. Trague had prophesied that the vintage that Dandelion returned with would become very rare indeed. It was dark atop the Wachtturm that night and in the streets. I clearly remember watching Dandelion's face as he turned the bottle to the light back at the manor. He went pale and his lips tightened and he put it into his magical pocket. It was a Chateau des Demoiselles 1650. Dandelion was born and the wine was bottled in Rogne; both in 1650. He seemed to take this as a portent of doom.

On the last day of the year as we all were preparing to party; Dandelion had arranged with Pistol [of all people!] a massive quantity of cheap grog, a special delivery came of a manuscript and letter. Dandelion read the letter. Trague wrote that he would throw himself off the Wachtturm at midnight and the tower would then collapse. He included enough other things for the companions to know that he was serious and there was no way of stopping him. The impact would be horrendous said Dandelion. How big asked Antonio? Well, the structure itself was 600 feet high and constructed of dragon bones. The impact, shrapnel and collateral destruction meant anywhere in the city could be hit. Antonio would go to the cathedral and get them to ring a warning. Borstenn and Eduarde would go to the Stein. Avon would go to the Knights of the Rose and Cross [of which he is a member]. Dandelion would go to the Freiburg Gazette. Pistol was to spread rumours of free booze outside the city to the low-lifes. I was to evacuate with the orphans next door.

It worked better than expected. The Freiburg Gazette had only two words on its front page under the masthead, GET OUT. The bells rang and with little looting most of the population were safely out of the way. Felix's charmed life continued as he persuaded Borstenn to free him. At midnight we watched from the walls and Dandelion used his spyglass to view Trague's death dive. A minute later the whole tower collapsed. I have never seen so much dust in my life. The destruction was unbelievable. It made an unforgettable end to one year and start to the next.

As we cleaned up Dandelion drank his share of the cheap grog with Pistol. A cheque arrived paying Dan de Lion [sic] for his article on the destruction of the Wachtturm. "Derogation, I am a dero, I am Dan de dero" he slurred.

The gifts of the Nibelungen arrived. They were wonderfully worked. Eduarde's blade with writhing female figures that seemed to move by themselves but Dandelion barely glanced at the surgeon's kit in its beautiful red leather case. He then left to find more grog. I followed. Dandelion seemed on the point of collapse several times and walked into several walls. He went out onto the Twelve Salmon Bridge. He climbed out on the parapet shook his fist at where the Wachtturm used to be and dived off. I sprinted to the parapet but there was no trace of Dandelion. No ripples disturbed the icy waters far below. I searched to no avail. Eventually I went back to the manor.

For two days I told no-one. What could I say? Who could I talk to anyway? It was rumoured that Porté mages could disappear by falling. Also it was said they could open their eyes on the walkway and never come back. I applied the Montaigne solution. I drank. When I went for more wine in the cellar I noticed Dandelion's nightcap glass. It should be in his room. It was very clean, too clean. Rising to Dandelion's room I found everything spotless. With true Eisen thoroughness the maid had cleaned everything including the heavily bound chest to one side of the room. I had been told to never clean this chest and now it's brasswork gleamed back at me. The chest opened to my touch and I noticed that the inside seemed undisturbed. I had been so busy running the household until Kirsten Von Tannen arrived that I hadn't checked my master's room. And now he might be trapped on the
'other side'.

How do you summon back a noble master? I placed the weapons from the chest around the floor. I opened the purses and pouches and left them neatly in the corners of the room. I laid his pins out carefully on the table. The maid was told I would kill her if she entered that room. I poured a glass of fine red wine and left it with the bottle by the bed. The supply of wine in Dandelion's cabinet hadn't diminished recently so Eduard must have had uncommonly good luck with the ladies. I think his mock courting of a rich widow with a fine cellar was bearing fruit, or wine at least! I lay downacross the doorway and entered a fitful and uncomfortable slumber. As dawn's light entered the room a black tear appeared in space. It expanded and dripped blood and silently screamed like chalk on a blackboard. A red hand came through and grasped the spare rapier. Then Dandelion stepped through. He opened his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. I removed the freezing cold wet clothing and stoked the fire. He threw the rapier on the bed and drank the wine. 'Chateau Rothschild I believe" he said. "Oui Monsieur" I replied as my heart filled with joy. 'You can call me Dan if you like' he offered. "Monseigneur, of course" I said but I knew where I stood in the world now.

He shaved, washed, dressed and ate breakfast. He ate a lot but said nothing. The other companions asked where he had been. All he said was that he had been maturing in a cellar. Later I asked "A cellar in Posen?" Smiling wryly Dan said 'They have the wettest, safest and coldest cellars I know.'