Saturday, November 30, 2024

The Thanksgiving That Was

Thanksgiving Morning, around 0800
OAFS Photo
Plans had been tossed about in the early days of autumn as to what The Missus Herself and Your Humble Scribe might be planning for the Thanksgiving holiday. LUSH, of course, wanted us in California. The Nuke was hoping we'd amble down to the Old Line State to spend Thanksgiving on the banks of the Chesapeake Bay.

As The Missus Herself had been in California not that long ago and was rather hoping not to make that long trip again for a while (back being in not so good shape but getting better), California was ruled out rather early on. We were sorta leaning towards Maryland, but as plans were already on the books to go there to celebrate the Birth of the Savior, I proposed New Hampshire for Thanksgiving at my Mom's house.

Thanksgiving Evening, around 1800
OAFS Photo
Well ...

As The Missus Herself pointed out, there was literally no place to stay at my Mom's, her spare bedroom being given over, as it were, to my kid brother's living area, as he, The Musician, had moved in with Mom back in the spring.

He, being retired, and Mom, unable to safely be on her own any more, it seemed a good idea. And it was, is, and remains so. So, where would we stay if New Hampshire was chosen?

My other kid brother, Ye Olde Vermonter proposed a solution. As my nephew, his son, The Young Vermonter, runs a rather nice and rather underused inn in my hometown, he might see his way clear to comping us a room. In fact, he insisted.

I tried to end run that by reserving a room and planning to pay, nephew canceled that and gave us a better room. I mean, the place is virtually empty, the owner seems to be maintaining its upkeep as a tax write-off, and why not take care of us along the way?

So yeah, we had a nice place to stay for two nights (the first three pictures are from our room) and we had a lovely time with my Mom and my two brothers.

The Musician had ordered a full up Thanksgiving feast from a local grocery emporium which came pre-cooked (so all that was needed was to warm everything up, then eat). Lodgings, check. Food, check.

So how about the weather?

The Morning after Thanksgiving, around 0800
OAFS Photo
Oh Lordy it was frightful.

We had a nice drive up on Wednesday, spent some time at Mom's after checking in to the inn, and pigged out on food which we'd brought up with us. Light fare, a charcuterie board, an ocean-load of shrimp cocktail, and some spring rolls and potstickers which The Missus Herself had prepped on Tuesday.

We pigged out and headed back to try and get some sleep after our three hours on the road. We sort of slept. Comfortable bed but first night in a strange place is always restless.

Thanksgiving dawned with a couple of inches of snow on the ground and snow still falling rather heavily. It was pretty heavy stuff and was falling fast.

Road maintenance in my hometown, where there is almost no industry and virtually no jobs to be had, has gone way downhill since my childhood. Back in my day the plows would have been out almost as soon as the white stuff began to accumulate. These days it seems they wait until it stops.

Ye Olde Vermonter swears that the town is now run by a bunch of 14-year olds with scarcely any talent at running anything, and the state of the roads on the way to Mom's on Thanksgiving was shameful.

The state had plowed their roads, just the town decided "to hell with it."

Thank the Lord for All Wheel Drive and Honda's very efficient Anti-lock Braking System. Going down the hill to the town square (a rather steep hill I must say) I pressed the brakes at the top and felt the vehicle just keep going. I could feel the brake pedal doing a jitterbug under the toe of my shoe and realized that the vehicle was "taking care of business."

We did stop when we wanted to, you just had to kind of anticipate that event. Steady pressure on the brake pedal and ABS did the rest.

It was though, a bit sporty.

We headed back to the inn before sunset to avoid driving back in an icy rut-laden nightmare. We made it back through the accumulated slush which had yet to freeze.

I heard the town out plowing at 0300 Friday morning. "'Bout time!" grumbles I before going back to sleep.

Friday morn, we checked out of the inn, stopped off at Mom's for a brief "Hello!" before heading back to the south upon roads which were nicely bare by that time (the temperature was climbing as well).

Thirty miles south of my homeland we discovered that they'd received barely a dusting in that area, I calculated six to eight in the homeland.

First snow, ill-timed, but we survived and had a nice visit. And doggone, it was pretty, if nasty to navigate.

The Road Behind the Inn
OAFS Photo

The Wood Behind the Inn
OAFS Photo
How was your Thanksgiving?

Now it's on to retirement (in three weeks!) and Christmas in Maryland.

Time, it doth fly.




Friday, November 29, 2024

The Glory and Fall of the Commonwealth - part 1

Kraków Militia, a local guard formation in the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth during the 16th and 17th centuries
Fragment of the 
Rulonu polskiego
Balthasar Gebhardt, ca. 1605, gouache on parchment (PD)
In the 1500s and 1600s, if you look upon the map of Eastern Europe you notice a giant state, stretching from Baltic to almost Black Sea, and from Poznan (Posen) to Smolensk on the road to Moscow.

But by 1800s if you look upon same map, you will see that state not merely shrinking or changing borders, but disappearing entirely, as if swallowed by surrounding powers.

How did it come to pass?

Roots of the Polish-Lithuanian state emerged in late 1300s, when both countries threatened by aggressive policies of the Teutonic Order state in Prussia formed alliance, cemented by marriage of Lithuanian Grand Duke Jogaila (in Polish, known as Jagiełło) to Polish King (sic!) Jadwiga (tl;dr - Polish nobility accepted female King due to dynastic reasons).

Added bonus for the sides was Christianization of Lithuania. Lithuania gained entry into then exclusive family of european Christian nations, and deprived Teutons of their claimed reason for war, namely conversion by fire and sword. Poland gained respect as the ones who did succeed with diplomacy where Teutons failed with sword.

Results were soon visible, with the alliance dealing the Teutonic Order crippling defeat in the Battle of Grunwald aka Tannenberg in 1410. I will deal with this battle as first of the dramas little heard of, or learned today in the West.

Teutonic order fielded what by 1400s standards was top tech modern military - featuring mercenary English longbowmen, elite knight cavalry, and even some primitive canons.

Aided by extremely efficient administration by medieval standards (all posts were nominated by the Order itself, not hereditary) Order was wealthy enough to afford it, and dealt crushing blow after another to all enemies - subjugating Prussian pagans within less than century 1226-1283, taking Gdansk aka Danzig from Poland in 1308 in an act of betrayal straight out of Game of Thrones - Poles hired Teutonic knights to help fend off Brandenburgian raid, only for the Teutons to turn on their allies, slaughter Polish crew and many civilians, and take the city for themselves, and expanding into Lithuania.

Eventually, things came to decisive blows in 1409 , when Teutonic Order declared war on the alliance, hoping to crush them before they grow too powerful.

After some time of maneuvering and armistices, the armies came to blows in the heart of the Prussian domain, on fields between the villages of Grunwald and Tannenberg, hence the names for the battle.

Polish army featured mostly similarly equipped knights to the Order, with some peasant levies thrown in for good measure. Lithuanian side was mostly light cavalry, Mongol style, and even featuring some actual Mongol mercenaries.

There were even some Czech mercenaries on Polish side, led by none other than future Hussite leader Jan Žižka.

The battle was chronicled pretty accurately by contemporary historians. It seems that initially Teutons gained advantage by routing Lithuanians - or possibly failing prey to the feigned retreat. Eventually, though , Lithuanian forces that fled - or feigned flight - returned to the fray and helped encircle the Teutonic army, ending with massive defeat. Out of 200 "white cloaks", the full brothers of the order, only 70 escaped. Only the almost unconquerable castle of Malbork aka Marienburg saved the Order from total defeat.

Here are some sources:
  • Battle of Grunwald (Wikipedia)
  • Battle of Grunwald (Britannica)
  • Battle of Grunwald (The Collector)
  • Battle of Grunwald (YouTube) (Video taken from 1960 cinema epic "Knights of the Cross" based on historic novel, so take with more than a pinch of salt - but still more precise medieval warfare depiction than any todays CGI wonders ...)


Next episode: The Jagiellon dynasty, 13 years war , and establishment of electionary monarchy.




Editor's Note: I only did minimal editing of the post. Paweł's English is quite good and I wanted this to be in his words and not do some hacked up editing of my own. I'm betting most of you don't speak Polish, so don't be too critical of Paweł's English.

Thursday, November 28, 2024

Happy Thanksgiving!

Freedom from Want
Norman Rockwell
(Source)
Have a wonderful holiday. Let's not forget those who can't be home this year...

Not everyone can watch football on Thanksgiving. (Source)

Or curl up with a loved one in front of the fire place. (Source)

From all of us at the Chant du Départ ...






Editor's Note: For those of you paying attention (and not zoned out on wine and tryptophan), yes, this is a rerun. I am "up north" for the holidays, we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming on Saturday. I have a "Post from Poland" for you on Friday. Our Polish correspondent, Paweł, has a bit of historical stuff on the Old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth for your edification, entertainment, and education. There will be one more installment featuring the Sack of Rome in 1527, not sure when, no later than Tuesday I would hope. (Depends on how zoned out I am from wine and tryptophan over the weekend, I suppose.)

Wednesday, November 27, 2024

The Stand

The engraving shows a German soldier dressed as the pope being paraded through the streets of Rome.
In the background, fighting and pillaging ensues. In the distance, Castel Sant’Angelo and Ponte Sant’Angelo can be seen.

Mattäus Merian, “Sack of Rome,” engraving in Johann Ludwig Gottfried’s Historiche Chronica (Frankfurt 1630–34), p. 33.

Source

The entry to the piazza was filling with Landsknechts, Aloysius noticed that their flamboyant style of dress was even more noticeable at such a short distance. Many of the men who had assaulted the wall had spread through the nearby neighborhoods, seeking loot and women, the men facing them now seemed to know that the Vatican had plenty of things to steal.

"I see no muskets¹ among them." Andreas remarked.

"Thank heaven for small favors!" said Günther, the man to Aloysius' other side.

Aloysius grinned, small things to ease the terror of the moment, he thought. Then the enemy began to move towards them.

"Formation, lads! Keep together! Remember your drill!" one of the corporals yelled to the men near him.

Aloysius followed the motions of the men to either side of him, blade up, ready to block a thrust or strike an opponent down. They had drilled this many times, but never against men coming to kill them.


Captain Röist was watching the advancing Landsknechts and his own men at the same time. The advancing enemy seemed tentative, almost as if they were not expecting resistance. Röist's Guardsmen looked steady and determined.

One of the Landsknechts cried out, "Lauf, du papistischer Abschaum!²"

A Guardsman shouted back, "Komm und iss meine Klinge, du Söldnerschwein!³"

Though Röist grinned at the well-timed insult, he shouted out, "Save your breath, boys! You'll need your energy to slaughter these heretics!"

One of the Landsknechts growled and dashed forward, followed by several of his comrades, his great two-handed sword, the infamous Zweihänder, held high, ready to cut down any unwary guardsman. The man had to be either drunk or overconfident.


Aloysius felt the fear in the pit of his stomach, the man advancing towards him was huge. His sword seemed to be some mythical blade and not a real thing. But Aloysius reacted precisely how he'd been trained, he thrust his halberd forward and took the Landsknecht in the throat. His assailant dropped immediately, blood spraying like a fountain.

The Guardsmen dealt with that man's comrades in much the same way, in a few short seconds, the impetuous Landsknechts, ten of them, lay butchered on the paving stones of the piazza San Pietro.

With a roar the main body of the Landsknechts advanced on the Guards at a trot.


Aloysius saw that many of the Landsknechts carried halberds much like the one he carried. He saw no pikes, that was fortunate. Had the Germans been carrying their pikes they would have outreached the Swiss halberds. Apparently those had been discarded before going over the wall. Aloysius rather wished that they had done the same with their shorter pole arms.

Andreas' halberd flashed up before Aloysius' face as Andreas blocked a German's thrust at Günther. Aloysius stomped forward and thrust his own halberd into the German's groin.

"Back, back, step back!" the men heard their captain command.

The paving stones were growing slippery with blood, Aloysius noticed that there were dead and wounded Guardsmen down on the pavement among the slaughtered Landsknechts. By sheer weight of numbers, the Swiss were being forced back towards the basilica.

Aloysius was gasping with the effort of parrying and thrusting his halberd, his arms were growing heavy and the shaft of his weapon was slick with sweat and blood. He couldn't believe how much blood was inside a man.


Captain Caspar Röist hacked down a Landsknecht who was in the process of trying to kill a wounded Guardsman at Röist's feet. As he drew his blade back, he felt a sharp pain, almost like fire, slide across his left upper arm. He had taken the point of an enemy blade in his bicep. His arm dropped to his side.

One of his Guardsmen stepped in front of him and used the axe blade of his halberd to spilt the head of the man who had stabbed the captain.

The fighting was becoming confused as individual Landsknechts were starting to work their way in to the ranks of the Swiss formation. Röist realized that his men would have to fall back even more, they were close to the steps leading into the basilica.

"Back lads! Step back, tighten your ranks!" He bellowed at his men.


"Oh Lord, there are too many of them!" Andreas cried out as he parried an enemy thrust and followed through with a thrust of his own. His foe went down screaming, his hands pressed to his face where Andreas' point had stabbed into his eyes. More blood on the pavement.

"Back, step back, Andreas!" Aloysius yelled at his comrade.

The formation tightened and the Landsknechts fell back for a moment, almost as if to catch their collective breath before pressing the attack again. Aloysius didn't see Günther as he glanced to his left.

"Günther! Where are you?" he yelled.

"Save your breath, Junge, Günther is out there!" Andreas called out, pointing with his halberd to a pile of intermixed Swiss and German bodies.

"Captain?" Andreas asked, as he noticed that their Captain had joined them.

"Andreas, Aloysius, get inside, tell His Holiness that we cannot hold them back. He must get to Sant'Angelo, use the covered way." Röist paused and looked to his front when he heard the Landsknechts bellowing and advancing.

"Go! Tell His Holiness that I'll hold them as long as I can!"

Aloysius hesitated, then Röist shoved him at the same time as Andreas yanked him by the sleeve, "Come on, boy! Let us be off!"

Aloysius turned one last time towards the piazza, the Swiss were almost enveloped by a sea of snarling Landsknechts. Then he and Andreas went inside, towards where they were told the Pope should be.




¹ The arquebuses in use were commonly referred to as "muskets" at that time.
² Run, you papist scum! (German)
³ Come and eat my blade, mercenary pig! (German)

Tuesday, November 26, 2024

The Assault

La Sconfitta della cavalleria francese.
La Battaglia di Pavia¹
Bernard van Orley (PD)
Aloysius couldn't help but notice that his hands were sweating, a lot. Where he gripped his halberd was wet, not so wet as to affect his grip, but wet enough that he noticed it. It reminded him of drill, hours in the hot sun and his weapon would look soaked with moisture. But the day was cool, he and his fellow Swiss Guardsmen were lined up in the Piazza San Pietro, waiting.

Everyone knew that the assault would come soon, they could hear the first cannons booming as the Imperial Army approached. While the forces defending the city had a numerous artillery, there weren't many artillerists in the garrison.

A cannon fired nearby, from the Leonine Wall to their right. Aloysius jumped at the sound.

A plan of Rome in the Middle Ages.
The Leonine City is visible in the upper left section.
Source
Andreas reached over and placed his hand on Aloysius' right shoulder, "Easy lad, you'll get used to the sound after a while."

Aloysius looked at his comrade, "If I live long enough."

"Aye, there is that."


Pablo Alvarez noticed the Duke of Bourbon riding up to the lines. Surely the man wasn't thinking of assaulting the walls on horseback. When the Duke dismounted, Pablo turned to his friend Francisco Hernandez.

"The man's got cojones, I'll give him that."

Francisco shrugged, "Cojones and a white cloak won't get this tercio over those damned walls. Better hope those herejes malditos² take that section of wall and open that gate to us. Perhaps within the city we can maneuver."

Pablo shook his head, as if a tight formation of pikemen and arquebusiers could maneuver in the confines of a city. He hoped that when the Landsknechts broke in to the city, they would be released to loot and pillage. He was hungry, as were his comrades. Being Imperial troops they knew that they would be paid at some point, their mercenary colleagues couldn't be that sure.

The Germans were hot to sack the city, they fought for pay, not politics.


Charles III, Duke of Bourbon, handed the reins to his servant, then flung his cloak open to the troops arrayed before him. A rough cheer went up as the men recognized their popular leader.

Looking to the nearest officer, Charles shouted out, "What say you, Captain? Let us be over these cursed walls and open the gates!"

Seeing a scaling party carrying a ladder behind the captain, the Duke strode over to them and shouted again. "Let me help you lads with your burden!"

The men cheered again and started to move towards the wall. The captain bellowed in the Duke's ear, "Monsieur le duc, let my men do this, you are too valuable ..."

Charles turned to the man and said something, his words were drowned out as one of the cannons in the wall belched death towards the men moving up to the assault. But he did release his grip on the ladder so that he could draw his sword.


"Hey, Benvenuto, who's the fancy pants bastard prancing around down there?"

Benvenuto Cellini, goldsmith by trade, defender of the Faith on this day, looked where Luigi Fabrizi was pointing. The man stood out like a sore thumb waving his sword in the air, a white cloak over his armor.

"My oath, I would wager that that is the Duke of Bourbon himself!"

Cellini aimed his primitive weapon in the direction of the Duke, and pulled his trigger. The powder in the pan flashed, igniting the charge in the breech of his weapon. As the range was short and he was an expert with the arquebus, he had some hope of hitting his target. Other than being blinded by smoke, he knew the weapon had fired properly by the kick to his shoulder.

As he reloaded and the smoke cleared, he no longer saw the man in the white cloak. Where he thought the man had been, was a swirling crowd of Landsknechts.


The Duke had gone down hard, collapsing without a word, his helmet snatched off as if by the very Hand of God. The captain only needed one look to see that the Duke was gone, as was much of his face.³

Without thinking he bellowed, "The Duke has fallen! We must avenge him!"

The nearby soldiers surged forward, ignoring the slackening fire from the walls ahead. The Duke had been a very popular commander, his successor Philibert of Chalon wasn't anywhere near as well-regarded by the men. His shouts to try and gain control of the assault fell on deaf ears.


Andreas saw them first, members of the militia fleeing from their positions on the wall and disappearing into the nearby streets of the city. He turned to Aloysius.

"Brace yourself lad, it's our turn."

Aloysius didn't understand at first, then he saw them, Landsknechts.

One of the mercenaries dragged a man, presumably a man captured on the wall, into the street. He shouted something then kicked the man. One of his comrades brought his sword down on the unfortunate, severing the man's head.

"Steady lads!" Captain Röist called out. Immediately the enemy turned in their direction.

One of the men laughed and pointed to his right, where the nearest gate lay. Some of the Landsknechts went in that direction, the others drew up some distance from the Swiss, waiting.

"What are they waiting for?" Aloysius managed to gasp out.

"The rest of their unit, there are only a score of them now, soon a thousand will come through that gate."

Aloysius nodded, he said a quick prayer. He didn't want to die, but it was beginning to look like he had no say in the matter.

None at all.




¹The Defeat of the French Cavalry. The Battle of Pavia - Detail of van Orley's tapestry of the battle fought in 1525.
² Cursed heretics. Many of the German-speaking Landsknechts were indeed Protestants, or "heretics" as the Catholic Spaniards considered them to be.
³ I have no idea if Charles III was hit in the face, call it dramatic license. Also the idea that Benvenuto Cellini was the man responsible for the Duke's death has come down to us almost as legend.

Monday, November 25, 2024

Check or Czech?

 Well, campers, all good things must end, even cruises.  Mrs J and I are safely re-ensconced at Rancho Juvat.  The bags are unpacked.  The washer and drier have been continuously running for a few days now (only a slight exageration).  The Dogs have forgiven us for leaving them, the Cats have not.  (Yes, Beans, we had a friend coming by twice a day to feed and water the horses, dogs and cats and let the dogs out in the yard to "do their business".)

But...You're still going to get vacation pictures.

The main portion of the trip was to cruise the Rhine, Main, and Mosel rivers.  The ship was built to hold 150 passengers, but, this was the end of the season (which is Swahili for "It's gonna be cold and will most likely snow) so there were only 65 passengers on board, which made it very relaxing.

Mrs. J being the "plan ahead" lady she is, had also arranged a pre-cruise 3 day visit to Prague, Czech Republic.  Back in my flying days, visiting Praque would have been the last thing I ever did in my Air Force Career. You know, that Iron Curtain Thing, the bosses kinda frowned on folks visiting places behind it. Things have changed quite a bit in the ensuing years.  Very nice place.  But, nobody we spoke to locally had anything good to say about the Commies.  I wonder why?

In any case, I highly recommend visiting the place.  


 For several reasons!

 For a country that had, relatively recently, come out from under a "God does not exist" political system, there sure were a lot of "God related" buildings.

And...


 As well as quite a few statues.


 
Oops, one more church!


Lot of history in that town. But, when the commies ran out of money and gave the country back, the Czech's had to make some compromises.  Most of the major buildings there were somewhat Church related, some were bought by "new" companies for offices or storefronts etc.


 IIRC, this had been a school building back in the day.

 I'm pretty sure Starbucks has more citizen support than the godless Commies did, but what do I know.

It was an interesting way to spend a couple of days getting acclimatized to the weather and the change in time, but it was now time to get on the boat.  Stopped in 10 or so towns along the three rivers.  


 Most were very similar to this.  A dock on the river for trade.  A castle on the hilltop to protect against raiders and, finally, business buildings to make money on trade.  

 


As part of our post sail package, we had a 3 day layover in France. We stopped at the America cemetery for US troops killed during the Battle of the Bulge.  Quite sobering.  Especially when you realize this isn't the ONLY US Cemetery in the region or in the Theater, or in the World for WWII casualties.

 

The MIA's names are listed on this monument.  There's a LOT of names!

 Many were just never found. Our guide told us that the search is still going on for MIA's.  When found, a black spot is painted next to their name so folks looking at this display realize they are no longer missing in action.  Still hard to take if you are family, but maybe a bit less so.



 Wishing for some lighter sites to see, we stopped by the Dom Perignon winery.  I'm not a big fan of Champagne myself, but it was interesting to see it being made.  Above is the statue of Dom Perignon himself, holding a glass of champagne in his hand.  Shortly thereafter, it started snowing.  Fairly heavily.  So we went inside the Chapel on the site, mostly because it was warmer and dry, but discovered something interesting.


Dom Perignon is burried in the Chapel on the site.

Our last Champagne site was Chateau Mumm, makers of, of course, Mumm Champagne.

Here is their facility


 Nice work if you can get it.

Finally, I saw this and just knew it would get a chuckle out of the majority of you readers.

Enjoy!


And..... Just because


 

Peace out Y'all!

 


 

Sunday, November 24, 2024

In the Evening

The Duke of Bourbon’s Halt at La Riccia, on His March to Assault Rome, May 3d, 1527
Robert Walter Weir
Source
"So tell me young Aloysius, can you tell how many men there are from those campfires we can see?"

Aloysius stared into the distance. The campfires of the Imperial Army were numerous.

"I don't believe that we can see them all, Andreas. Many would be behind the hills, but it certainly is a large army. Larger than what we have within Rome."

Andreas sighed, "Yes, it is said that they number twenty thousand, we have what? Perhaps five thousand, mostly militia, mostly untrained."

"Why is His Holiness insistent on staying in the city?" Aloysius asked, not understanding any of the politics of the day.

"Where would he go Junge¹? The Emperor has troops everywhere, he's safer here, in the Vatican. He wanted to stay at the Lateran Palace, but Captain Röist convinced His Holiness to come here, he feels the Vatican is more defensible and, if need be, we can convey the Holy Father to the Castel Sant'Angelo via the Passetto. That old Roman tomb would be a tough nut to crack, even for the Emperor."

"Wouldn't he be trapped there?"

"Ah Junge, the Holy Father still thinks he can negotiate with the Emperor, buy his way out of this predicament."

Aloysius nodded, but he still didn't really understand. He had a sinking suspicion that he would never see his homeland again. But to die in defense of the Pope, that had to be worth doing.

"We will fight them and die, if necessary." Aloysius pronounced with an air of confidence.

Andreas cleared his throat and spat over the battlements, "If it were only that simple."


Hans-Wolfram von Holbeck shook his head, "My men are without pay, Colonel. They want to sack the Eternal City and make it scream to the Heavens."

Colonel Hernando de Alzado nodded, drank the remnants of his wine, then stood up from his table. "I understand that, Captain. We are in negotiations with the Vatican to obtain some coin to pay the troops."

"You know that's not enough, right? The men won't be satisfied with coin at this point. They need a blood bath, they need to loot and pillage for a few days. Once they're satiated, then we pay them and march back north."

"Your Landsknechts want blood do they?"

Von Holbeck nodded, "Yes, and I don't blame them. We've been marching for days, rations are terrible, and the men's morale is in the shitter. Don't your Spaniards feel the same?"

De Alzado almost mentioned that the men who manned his tercios were far more disciplined than the German mercenaries, but they needed those mercenaries to take Rome. That was his bottom line.


"You two! Come with me!"

Aloysius and Andreas turned as their corporal barked at them. They followed the man down to the courtyard. There they fell into ranks with the rest of the Swiss Guard. Captain Röist was pacing back and forth before them.

"There's no way we're going to hold those walls, we are too few. So we'll leave that to the city militia. We also know, almost to a certainty, that that rabble won't hold the wall for very long."

There was a murmuring in the ranks as the men looked at each other.

"SILENCE!"

The Captain let that word hang in the air for a long moment. The men were silent now, eyes straight ahead, their backs rigid.

"Most of us will stand here, buying time for His Holiness. I've detailed forty men to be ready to fall back to be near the Holy Father, and if need be escort him to Sant'Angelo. The rest of us will hold back the Imperial troops as long as we can."

Captain Röist paused, looking down the ranks, looking at each man, before he spoke again.

"We are sworn to defend His Holiness the Pope at all costs. If any man here feels he cannot live up to his oath, step forward now and I will discharge you. Mind you, you will be disgraced and can never return home if you quit your comrades now. We swore a Holy Oath, and I for one will die to fulfill that oath. Those who cannot do so, step forward."

The ranks remained unwavering, not a man moved.

"Very well, let us prepare."


Charles III, Duke of Bourbon, was preparing for bed. He would lead the assault on Rome in the morning, he was nervous but he felt a few hours of sleep might be beneficial.

"Gaston!"

"Yes, Monsieur le Duc?"

"You have laundered my white cloak, have you not?"

"Yes, it is as white as the snows of the Alps, Your Grace."

"Very well, wake me well before sunrise, I will wear the cloak into action so that the men might be inspired. I shall be first up the ladder!"

"Very good, Your Grace."

Gaston thought his master a fool. A brave fool, but a fool nonetheless.



¹ German, "boy" or "youngster."