The Lands of Germany, 1648, part 1:
At the beginning of 1648, Emperor Philip Sigismund demanded that the Lady Elizabeth von Wittelsbach hand over all her landholdings to him. An unspecified amount would be returned to her, but only after suitable confiscations had been made to be used as compensation for all the princes of the Empire who’d lost land west of the Rhine. If she failed to do so, she would be placed under the Imperial Ban and rendered an outlaw throughout the Holy Roman Empire.
The legal justification for such demand and punishment was extremely questionable, but legality meant little. Some princes saw an opportunity for a snack from carving off a bit of the Wittelsbach patrimony. Those princes not motivated by greed were motivated by fear; Philip Sigismund, backed (or controlled) by Henri II, was too powerful to challenge. And so they keep silent.
Elizabeth refuses the demand, but the situation is hopeless. Imperial and Triune forces invade Wurttemberg from the north and west simultaneously, then sweep onwards toward and then through Bavaria. There is little active fighting, even compared to the combat in Saxony. The force disparity is such that the defenders see little reason to risk their lives in a pointless doomed defense. Still, having large armies moving through the countryside, even if not engaged in active combat, leaves a lot of mayhem and disease in their wake.
Elizabeth, along with her young son Karl Manfred and those few trusted retainers still willing to remain loyal, are forced to flee from Munich in early June. Going south is not an option. The hospitality of King Niccolo Farnese is not to be trusted; information from Elizabeth’s agents warn that he’d likely ransom her to Henri II for a nice sum if he got her in his custody. Fleeing to Rhomania is definitely not an option; doing so would justify the sequestering of all her lands in the eyes of the Germans, and she will need German support if she is to have any hope of ever regaining the Wittelsbach patrimony.
The party makes their way north, although due to the need for secrecy their itinerary is mostly unknown to historians. It seems that they went through Bohemia, Saxony, and Brandenburg, with the connivance of their Hunyadi, Habsburg, and Hohenzollern rulers respectively. None of them were willing to openly defy Philip Sigismund and Henri by sheltering her openly and permanently, but they were willing to look the other way if she was passing through the land.
Braver, or more foolish, is the Duke of Pomerania, Wartislaw X, who compensates somewhat for his limited resources with substantial energy. He’d done much to blunt Scandinavian efforts to expand beyond Schleswig-Holstein in the mid-1630s even before Ottokar’s army had arrived to reinforce him. But in doing so he had humiliated King Peter II, who is not inclined to overlook the insult even after this delay.
Elizabeth’s presence in the Pomeranian capital of Stettin is a horribly kept secret, soon known to the world, and Elizabeth and Wartislaw quickly drop even the pretense. The Duke announces that he is protecting the Lady Elizabeth who has been unjustifiably stripped of her lands in violation of the constitution of the Holy Roman Empire. He calls upon all princes who respect the constitution and German liberties to join him.
The response is that of deafening silence. No one else is willing to stand openly against the two ‘Emperors of the West’, as one pamphlet styles Philip Sigismund and Henri II. In the defense of Wartislaw, he didn’t expect much of a response at first. Had princes been willing, the substantially more powerful rulers of Bohemia, Saxony, or Brandenburg would’ve stepped forward. However he believes that there will be one of two outcomes, which will work for him in the end.
The first is that Philip Sigismund will march out against him. However he is a land power, utterly lacking in naval strength, a prerequisite for reducing Pomerania and its ports. So he will be stalled, hemorrhaging material strength, prestige, and authority, and in his growing weakness others will be willing to rally against him and join Pomerania.
The other option is that Philip Sigismund will march out against him, but will enlist naval strength to make up his lack. But to do so will require him to turn once again to foreigners, either the Triunes or the Scandinavians or both. So once again the Holy Roman Emperor, the supposed defender of the German states, will be deliberately inviting in foreigners to chastise a prince of the Empire. Philip had used Triune troops against the Ravens, which had been embarrassing, but no prince was going to argue too much considering the target and the success. It would be far more scandalous to do the same when the target was a prince of the Empire. German public opinion is extremely unlikely to take fondly to that, and fear will give way to anger, and others will be willing to rally against Philip Sigismund and join Pomerania.
To now go against Wartislaw, there is a flaw in his reasoning. He had assumed that if Philip Sigismund took the second option, which is the more materially threatening to Pomeranian security, it would take time, at least until 1649, before it could be mustered. But even before it would be mustered, it would be clear what the Emperor was doing, so Wartislaw would have several months to stoke up German public opinion before he was seriously attacked.
However Philip Sigismund is able to get moving with an army far earlier than Wartislaw expected. It is a fairly small army, and dependent on several Triune regiments on loan from Henri II which is awkward, but against Pomerania it is strong enough. In addition, squadrons of Scandinavian warships appear off the coast and blockade the port cities as Philip Sigismund prepares his siege lines. The Emperor’s speed is due in no small part to a lack of siege artillery, but the lack is made good by the offloading of cannon from some of the warships.
There is a price for Peter’s aid, and it is a stiff one. The Scandinavian monarch wants Pomerania for himself, to rule as Duke of Pomerania as an Imperial prince, as the Danish kings once ruled Schleswig and Holstein as Imperial dukes before the Wittelsbachs seized the duchies. Philip is aware of the outrage this will cause across the Holy Roman Empire but calculates this will be better than waiting and giving Wartislaw and Elizabeth more time to rally opinion against him.
With cannon hammering the walls of Stettin and the blockade getting stronger with the addition of Triune vessels, the outlook for Pomerania looks grim. Philip’s quick response, even with its foreign components, makes him look strong, so no one else is willing to challenge him. Flight is the only option, save for surrender. The latter is not an option Elizabeth is willing to take, and neither is Wartislaw.
On September 3, a small party that includes Elizabeth, Karl Manfred, Duke Wartislaw, and his heir Bogislaw (who as commander of the Pomeranian contingent is a veteran in the campaign against Rhomania) is able to sneak out of Stettin in small rowboats sticking close to shore, getting past the siege lines. However with all the Scandinavian and Triune warships on the prowl they are unable to get out into the Baltic. As planned, they land, picking up horses at a predetermined site, and ride east toward a planned second rendezvous for transport out of Pomerania.
* * *
September 4, 1648, somewhere in Pomerania:
The Triune cavalry patrol had been pursuing them for a better part of an hour, with horn calls signaling to others, making it clear that their hunters were not alone. Elizabeth resisted the urge to ask again how close they were. She knew they were close, really close, but so were their pursuers. It would be such a pity to have come so far and fail this near to their objective. Their party was small, with just a few guards and retainers to protect and support her and her son plus the Duke and heir. It would not take many men to overpower them.
Eight men on horseback suddenly burst out in front of them, charging and yelling. She heard Bogislaw swear in Polish as he whipped out a kyzikos and fired while at full gallop. One of the assailants toppled off his mount just before the two groups collided.
One of the attackers grabbed her, his hand gripping her upper left arm. “Surrender, bitch!” he yelled. She jerked her arm towards her, the man yelping in surprise as she yanked him forward. She lowered her head so that his face smashed into her forehead. He shrieked and Elizabeth heard the crunch of a nose flattening, spraying her with blood as some of his teeth bounced off of her. His grip dropped and she shoved him off onto the ground, trampling him deliberately with her horse as she blinked away blood off her eyes. She shook her head; that had worked rather well but her head was not hard enough to make that a good repeat tactic.
Looking around her, she saw three of the riders fleeing with some more men on the ground. Wartislaw, Bogislaw, and Karl Manfred were fine, her young son trembling and perched on a horse in front of Jakob, her captain of her guard, who’d been with her since she’d been a girl in the strange land of Constantinople, all those years ago.
Jakob looked behind them. The land here was mostly clear, with scrubland interspersed with copses of stunted trees, with the smell of the Baltic Sea hanging on the air. More riders were coming up behind them and the fight had slowed them down. Jakob frowned, edged his horse closer to Elizabeth, and then with one hand picked up Karl Manfred and plunked him down in the saddle in front of Elizabeth. “You’re almost there, milady. Ride hard. I’ll buy you the time you need. Hans, Adolf, you’re with me.” He looked at Bogislaw. “You get her through.”
“I will.”
“God go with you, Captain,” Elizabeth said, resisting the tears.
“God go with you, milady.”
They rode.
* * *
“Contact! Hot pursuit!” the lookout bellowed from the crow’s nest.
“All hands to stations!” the captain shouted. “Hot extraction!” He looked over to see the boats ready to launch, while gun ports drew open and the men loaded cannons. “Be sure to mark your targets,” he said. It wouldn’t do to accidentally shoot their passengers.
“Here they come!” the lookout shouted. “Close pursuit!”
The captain looked to the shoreline. This little cove wasn’t much of an anchorage, with a hill near the shore blocking most of the view inland. He saw a small party of riders crest the hill, charging down towards the shore. And then right behind was a much larger party of horsemen. “Gun-master, when you’re ready,” he said. The man nodded.
A few seconds passed. The larger group was spreading a bit, with fresher mounts pushing forward, but even that would be enough to overwhelm the initial group unless they got help.
“FIRE!”
* * *
Elizabeth saw the ship as soon as she crested the hill, lying black-hulled in the water, with white stripes of paint along her gun decks. She wasn’t good with ships. It wasn’t a small ship, but it wasn’t anything like those hulking Triune monsters, or even the bigger Lotharingian warships she’d seen on a diplomatic visit. But she recognized the banners flying from the mastheads.
Karl clutched her arms tightly as her foaming horse pounded toward the shore. She could hear the loathsome sounds of French and English behind her. They’d stilled momentarily upon sighting the ship, clearly their rendezvous, but the pursuers were close. They could still overwhelm Elizabeth and her party before they could get off the beach.
Then the ship spoke, cannonballs ripping through the air, the whistle sounding like they were aimed at her head. Now that would be an ironic way to die, she thought. But they whistled past, and the triumphant calls were immediately replaced.
Elizabeth did not much care for the sounds of French or English speech. But the sound of French or English screams, that was sweet.
* * *
The first cannonade hadn’t killed that many of the Triunes; the ship had fired only a few cannons, concerned about the close quarters shooting. But going up against a ship armed with 25-pounder cannons when one was only armed with a few carbines plus kyzikoi and sabers was unhealthy, so after another two cannonades the Triunes had fled back behind the hill, allowing a quick but safe withdrawal from the beach.
Elizabeth climbed up the ladder from the boat, trying her best to look dignified as she clambered over the railing, which was difficult considering how her clothes were soaked in sweat and she still had a lot of dried blood on her face and in her hair. Once on deck, she immediately looked around, quickly identifying the captain. “Kentarchos,” she said in perfect Constantinople Greek. “We thank you for your good service.”
The Kentarchos, a fairly short and young-looking man, with a triangular chin and long pointy nose, smiled. “Your Imperial Highness,” he replied in Greek, with an accent she recognized as Egyptian. “It is our pleasure to aid an Empress. I am Kentarchos Leo Kalomeros. Welcome aboard the
Theseus.”
He glanced behind her. “That’s everyone,” one of Kalomeros’s officers said. Elizabeth looked herself and then confirmed it.
“Good,” Kentarchos Kalomeros said and then looked over at the helmsman, giving a string of nautical orders that completely went over her head. Something about points and jibs…
She looked over at Bogislaw, who nodded that the orders were of the type they should expect. If all went well, if God be willing, soon they would be in Narva.