Chapter 13: How Georg of Frundsberg is Betrayed by his Liege

Winter was pleasantly mild in flat country along the River Po, nothing at all like the fierce storms of the North Sea, or the bitterly cold eastern winds of Saxony. The Saxon fähnlein in Casale were quite content with their lot, living in a largely peaceful region and in reasonable accord with the civilian population.

Captain Joerg Isebrand showed an unexpected aptness as administrator. His deeply ingrained sense of honour, honesty and fairness made him well liked among the soldiers and citizens. Well-planned forays into Venetian lands also added to his military reputation and kept his soldiers both in training and in money. Characteristically, the Isebrands rather left the peasants alone and took from the rich Venetian merchant houses and their dependencies.

In those forays, Theresa proved herself as merciless enemy to the Venetian opponents. More than once, Joerg and Katherine had to admonish her that her attackers were dead already, and that the opposing soldiers were just like them, only working for the other side. It barely helped. Wherever Theresa saw a Venetian banner, a red rage came over the pretty girl.

Joerg's disapproval of her drove her away from him, and she moved away from the Isebrands, living in the soldier's quarters. Soon, Katherine heard that Theresa had five and more men every night, sometimes two and three at a time. Reluctantly, she spoke to Joerg about it. Joerg felt sad, but there was little he could do. He had accepted her in the fähnlein, and if he threw her out for fucking around, he would have to expel the majority of his men, too. One or two times, men quarrelled over Theresa, but she always managed to quell those fights.

In the end, it was her blind hatred of the Venetians that became her undoing. They had gone on another foray into Venetian lands, targeting a small town where the Medici had a wine and olive oil depot. As usual, Joerg had planned well, and the raid on the small town went smoothly, with just a few busted heads on the part of the town guards.

While the majority of the men were busy loading the loot on commandeered donkey carts and horse wagons, Theresa roamed the narrow streets in search of additional loot. In a small alley, she happened upon an elderly man, a former soldier of the Medici, who still wore their colours, for want of other clothes. Seeing him, the red rage again descended on Theresa, and she charged the unarmed man with her sword.

Deftly, the man evaded her first blows, explaining that he was no soldier anymore. This only fuelled Theresa's rage, and she renewed her attack. This time, the old soldier stood his ground, parrying her thrust with his wooden staff. The next heartbeat, Theresa felt her feet pulled from under her, and she fell on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs.

In this moment Joerg, alarmed by Theresa furious shouts, arrived on the scene, followed by Katherine. They saw Theresa on her back, the iron tip of the old soldier's staff at her throat. The man looked at Joerg with resignation, accepting his fate in the face of the splendidly armed giant.

Joerg took in the scene and he was angry, angry at Theresa.

"I am Captain Joerg Isebrand," he told the wary man. "This undisciplined girl is serving in my fähnlein. Did she attack you for a reason?"

The old man shook his head.

"She called me a dirty Venetian, which I'm not. I served the Medici until two years ago, true, but I am no soldier anymore. I am Enrico Pollini."

"She has a great hatred for your colours," Joerg sighed. "Venetians murdered her father, not long ago."

The old soldier looked down on Theresa.

"I am sorry for your terrible loss, my girl."

His voice conveyed true sympathy and Theresa, the rage knocked out of her, had the decency to blush.

"I am sorry, too," she wheezed.

"Will you let her stand, please?" Joerg asked politely. "She will not attack you again, on my word."

He cast Theresa a significant look, and her eyes widened in understanding. The old soldier raised the tip of his staff from her throat and offered his hand, to help her up. The gesture thoroughly flustered Theresa. She accepted the help and stood shakily for a moment before she bent for her sword.

"No, leave it there, Theresa!" Joerg commanded sharply. "You have defied my orders and shamed me, by attacking an unarmed elder. Did you hurt any other people?"

Theresa blushed and shook her head.

"You will drive one of the donkey carts. Go now!"

Her head bowed, Theresa ran away from the place of her shame. Joerg could not help but feel bad for her. He knew how deep the violation had hurt her. He shook his head sadly, before he looked at the older man again.

"Signore Pollini, you showed great dexterity with your staff. Theresa is a good fighter. Are you a sword master?"

"I used to be, Condottiere. The Medici had no use for me anymore. They just hire men like you for their wars, these days."

"Say, would you be willing to join us? We are garrisoned in Casale. We have been without a sword master since we left Saxony, over a year ago."

"I would only teach?"

"I shall leave that to you."

Enrico Pollini looked at the small house behind him, and at the rich clothing of Joerg and his followers.

"I agree to your offer, Condottiere. One condition, though. That girl, I want her for my student. She has good basic skills, but a terrible temper. Who taught her about the sword?"

"My youngest sister did. She follows Lichtenauer's teachings."

"She does? Ah, I can teach her better."

"She'll love that. Do you need anything else?"

"A horse? I'm too old to walk."

Joerg laughed.

"We'll have one, Sword Master. Meet us at the Wine Depot."

When Joerg returned to his men, Theresa was sitting on a cart already, staring ahead sullenly. She looked up surprised when Joerg put her sword in her lap.

"Did you learn something?"

She nodded, her eyes slightly moist. Joerg spoke in a low voice, making sure nobody else could hear in.

"Theresa, we care for you. All of us do. You are Crescencia's sister, and that means you'll be our kin soon. We don't like how you behave, though. This whoring must stop, d'ye hear! This hatred must stop, or it will kill you. As of today, you are Master Pollini's student. He requested you. You will serve him and obey him, as any student would to a master."

Theresa's eyes grew big at that.

"His student? What will he teach me?"

"Perhaps you can learn to overcome unarmed old men? He is a former Medici sword master. He has probably forgotten more than we'll ever know. Show him the respect due and learn from him. I will submit myself to his teaching, at least until I learn the extent of his art."

Theresa nodded once reluctantly, and then again, stronger.

"I accept, and I promise I will never shame you again."

"That's good, Theresa. When we get back to Casale, go wash yourself. You will then move to his quarters, to serve him."

During the next weeks, no forays were made into Venetian territories. All of the men, and three of the women, committed themselves to Master Pollini's practice regimen. The worthy sword master worked them hard and without mercy, and even Joerg was known to sink into his cot in the evenings, thoroughly exhausted.

The most exciting moments were when Nele sparred with the old man. From the first time they met, Enrico Pollini had found his favourite student. Not that Theresa lacked attention or guidance, but Nele's training became an obsession for the old master.

Nele had been an accomplished fighter before, but Pollini was not satisfied before she was able to best every man in the troop. That included Joerg, although everybody knew that he was never able to strike full force at his beloved kid sister.

Often paired against Nele, Katherine's sword skills improved dramatically, too. She was also the only one who understood Pollini's teaching at an intellectual level, and the two were often found in discussions, with Theresa listening in, trying to follow their exchange. It was a rewarding time, for all of them, not the least for Pollini himself.

The old sword master had been uprooted since his dismissal from the Medici's service. At forty-five years, he'd never had a wife, let alone children. Reluctantly at first, but with growing commitment, Theresa filled part of this void. In the beginning, he quickly replaced the father she had lost so tragically. It was not far from there for Theresa to develop a different type of affection. This was in part due to her enforced celibacy. A highly sensuous woman, the lack of other men in her personal life soon made her focus on the one man available. None of the Isebrands knew when it happened, but by late summer that year, Enrico and Theresa had become a couple.

By this time, news of grave importance arrived. Francis of France had the French National Assembly revoke the treaty he had been forced to agree to when he was held captive in Spain. The treaty had stipulated embarrassing territorial losses for France and gains for the Habsburgs.

Pope Clement, seeing Charles V. as rival for the political dominance over Europe, openly supported Francis and rejoined the League of Cognac, an alliance against the emperor that included France and Venice, among others.

Clement also declared Francis' breach of the treaty as permitted, something that caused great uproar among the soldiers' ranks. They were contractors, for most parts, and the adherence to a contract, once closed, ruled supreme in their value system. Thus, a lot of anger among the soldiers and field grade officers was now directed at the Pope.

The French were also assembling a new army for Italy, and in late 1526, Frundsberg gave word to his landsknechte to congregate at Pavia for mustering. The Isebrands were not too happy to leave Casale. It had been a good year for them in the small town. However, they expected to receive their pay from Frundsberg, and they reluctantly marched their men towards Pavia.

Arriving there, they found that the assembled soldiers were in foul mood. Frundsberg had received imperial orders to attack Florence, yet the emperor had failed to send gold to pay his soldiers. At first, Joerg could not believe this. After all, they had won the Battle of Pavia for the Emperor. How could be expect them to fight without pay?

Rumours abounded, of course. One persistent rumour had it that Pope Clement had persuaded the Fuggers of Augsburg, the most influential lenders of the time, to refuse Charles V. the money he needed to pay his troops. Of course, this rumour added further to the resentment against Pope Clement among the assembled landsknechte.