Authors: Kate Forsyth
The Wild Girl (7 page)
‘We knew that you’re the one person who would know what’s really happening with the war,’ Lotte said.
Her aunt smiled and smoothed her hair, then said, ‘Well, yes, I am rather at the centre of things, aren’t I?’
‘All the newspapers say the English admiral is dead,’ Dortchen explained. ‘Please, tell us it’s not true.’
‘I suppose you are half in love with Nelson, like all the other ladies. Ah, to lose an eye and an arm, and keep on fighting. It is romantic, I know. Alas, my little ones. It is all too true. Nelson is dead.’
‘And the battle lost?’ Dortchen gripped her hands together.
‘No, no, he won the battle first. He gave orders right up to the last minute, by all accounts. We read about it all in the English newspapers.’
She patted her bosom for her spectacles, which hung on a chain about her neck, then beckoned a nearby lackey to bring her the papers, strewn all over a table in the hall. ‘Here we are.
The Times
says, “We do not know whether we should mourn … or rejoice. The country has gained … the most splendid and … decisive victory that has ever … graced the … naval annals of England; but it has been dearly purchased.”’ Aunt Zimmer translated slowly from the English, stopping often to think of the right words.
Dortchen’s eyes felt hot. She could not rejoice that the Ogre had at last been defeated at sea, when Admiral Nelson – one of the only men who had seemed able to stop Napoléon in his tracks – was dead.
‘It’s bad news for us all,’ Aunt Zimmer said. ‘Napoléon will be angry at losing his navy and determined to prove his strength. I dread the next few months, my dears. We must pray that Prussia joins forces with the Russians and the Austrians to stop this madman from destroying us all.’
December 1805
The Wild sisters sat by the fire in the upstairs drawing room. Dortchen was hemming small muslin bags for the shop, Röse was darning stockings, while Lisette and Gretchen mended sheets and pillowcases. Hanne was cutting up the newspaper to make paper twists, while Mia worked reluctantly on her sampler. Although all the furniture was old and shabby, it was a pleasant room, the chairs softened with cushions and shawls, and a jug filled with rosehips and willow twigs on the mantelpiece.
‘I feel like I’m turning into one of those old maids with a squint and red hands from too much housework,’ Gretchen said, shutting one eye to thread her needle. ‘Why can’t we send out our sewing like other people do?’
‘Father’s too flinty,’ Hanne responded absent-mindedly, her attentions caught by an article in the newspaper.
‘It’s Lisette who’s the old maid,’ Gretchen said. ‘She’s twenty-three already, and no husband on the horizon.’
‘Father hasn’t had time to find me one yet,’ Lisette replied, her face reddening.
‘You’re too useful to him in the stillroom,’ Hanne said. ‘Stop working so hard and he’ll marry you off quick enough.’
‘That’s your strategy, is it, Hanne?’ Lisette shot back.
Hanne laughed. ‘I intend to never marry. Mother has put me off it forever.’
Lisette was horrified. ‘Not marry? Are you mad? Do you wish to be an old maid and have everyone snigger at you, and think you’re left on the shelf because no one wanted you?’
‘Besides,’ Gretchen said, ‘if you don’t marry you’ll be stuck here forever, looking after Mother and Father till they die.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ Hanne said. ‘Find me a husband as fast as you can.’
‘I have no intention of ever marrying either,’ Röse said. ‘I intend to be a prop to our parents in their declining years.’
‘Father’s not here, there’s no need to suck up,’ Hanne said.
Röse put her nose in the air. ‘You malign me. I have no desire to impress Father with a false sense of daughterly devotion. I am simply expressing my own humble opinion. The thought of marrying disgusts me. I do not understand how any of you can bear the thought.’
‘Better than being an old maid,’ Gretchen said. ‘Which is what you’ve been since the day you were born.’
‘Better old-maidish than silly and frivolous,’ Röse responded.
‘Personally, I’d much rather be frivolous,’ Gretchen replied. ‘If only I ever got the chance.’
Hanne had turned the newspaper over and was reading the headlines. ‘Oh no!’ she cried, starting to her feet. ‘Napoléon has won another great victory. Thirty thousand Austrians have been killed.’
‘It cannot be true,’ Gretchen said, dropping her mending.
Hanne showed her sisters the newspaper, and they all crowded about her.
‘It seems impossible,’ Lisette cried. ‘I had thought … I had heard people say the French were exhausted after their great march … that Napoléon didn’t want to fight.’
‘It was a trick,’ Hanne said. ‘He wanted to lure the Austrians into attacking him.’
‘But thirty thousand dead … in one battle …’ Gretchen laid a hand over her mouth.
‘They say it was over in less than a day.’ Hanne held the news-sheet above her head so that Röse – who was a good head shorter – could not snatch it from her. ‘He did this clever manoeuvre, bringing his men up where they were least expected and attacking on the flank. The morning mist was so thick that the Austrians couldn’t see how Napoléon had tricked them. You’ve got to admit it was devilishly clever of him.’
‘Hanne,’ Lisette cried, glancing towards the door.
‘Oh, don’t worry, Father’s at the church elders’ meeting. Besides, it’s not cussing if you mean it literally.’
‘What about the Russians? Didn’t they fight too?’ Röse asked.
Hanne nodded. ‘They’re calling it the Battle of the Three Emperors. The Tsar himself was there, but he’s fled now. He said they were like babes in the hands of a giant.’ Her voice was full of amazed wonder.
‘You sound as if you’re glad Napoléon has won,’ Dortchen burst out.
‘I’m not
glad
, exactly,’ Hanne answered, at last letting the younger girls seize the paper so they could read the account for themselves. ‘Although I have to admit to a sneaking admiration for the man. He was crowned emperor only a year ago, and he celebrated his first anniversary by bringing his arch-enemies to their knees.’
‘He lost the Battle of Trafalgar,’ Dortchen reminded her.
‘Well, yes, but Admiral Nelson was killed. And Napoléon cannot be beaten on land. We all thought the Austrian army was one of the best in the world. Now look at it. Napoléon has taken Vienna with scarcely any resistance, and crossed the Danube, and driven back the Austrians and the Russians all the way to Austerlitz. Now he has Emperor Ferdinand on his knees, begging to be allowed to keep his throne.’
‘Don’t you realise what this means for us, Hanne?’ Dortchen cried. ‘Who is left to fight him? Will the Prussians protect us? We’re so small he’ll swallow us up.’
‘Which is why we should make a peace treaty with him, like the Bavarians. Yes, it may mean the Kurfürst loses his throne, but on the other hand we’d have a law that wasn’t positively medieval. Privileges of the nobles abolished, trial by jury – imagine it!’
‘You cannot mean it,’ Lisette cried. ‘You want the Kurfürst to be deposed?’
‘We’d finally be dragged into modern times,’ Hanne retorted. ‘The French are changing the whole world, while we Germans are stuck in our ways like a hog in a mud puddle.’
Dortchen stared at her sister in utter surprise.
A knock sounded on the door, and Old Marie put her round-cheeked face around it, her grey hair tucked under a mob cap. ‘Fraülein Lotte and Herr Wilhelm Grimm here to see you,’ she said. ‘Will I show them up?’
Gretchen looked about her at the shabby room and shook her head. ‘No, show them into the parlour.’ Dortchen, following close on her heels to the door, thought that Lotte and Wilhelm would be far more comfortable here than in the stiff formality of the parlour, but she said nothing. Already her elder sisters were streaming out the door and down the stairs. Holding the news-sheet aloft in her hand like a banner, Mia came hurtling behind.
Lotte waited for them in the parlour, her curly head hatless, and only a thin shawl wrapped about her. Wilhelm stood before the empty grate of the fireplace, his tall hat in his hand. He looked even paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes. ‘Have you heard the news of the defeat at Austerlitz?’ he cried as soon as the sisters came into the room. ‘Twenty thousand Russians killed. Aunt Zimmer says they were driven back across the river – the ice broke beneath them and many of them drowned.’
‘How terrible,’ Lisette said in a low voice, sinking down onto a chair.
‘Thirty thousand Austrians gone,’ Hanne cried, not wanting him to think he had all the news.
‘Almost half the entire Austro-Russian army,’ Wilhelm said. ‘It must be the bloodiest battle in history.’
‘How many did the Ogre lose?’ Dortchen’s voice shook.
‘Less than ten thousand,’ Wilhelm answered. ‘It’s like he’s protected by some diabolical force.’
‘God forbid one should assume it’s because he’s the better military leader,’ Hanne snapped back.
‘They say the sun was blood-red and swollen like a blister when it rose,’ Wilhelm said. ‘It was an evil omen.’
‘Can nobody stop him?’ Lotte asked. ‘Oh, Wilhelm, does he mean to take over all of Europe? Hessen-Cassel too?’
He drew her to him, smoothing down her curls. ‘You know how good the Hessian soldiers are,’ he told her. ‘There may not be many of them, but they’ve fought as mercenaries all over the world – they’re very experienced. And the English will stand by us. Their king is our Kurfürst’s cousin, and they’ve always helped each other.’
‘But the English king is completely mad,’ Lotte wailed. ‘He tried to shake hands with a tree, thinking it was the King of Prussia.’
‘His prime minister is not mad,’ Wilhelm said. ‘He’ll send help if we’re threatened, I’m sure of it.’
‘What will happen now?’ Gretchen asked Wilhelm.
‘I don’t know. I heard that the Austrian emperor has met with Napoléon, to discuss terms.’
‘There can only be room for one emperor,’ Hanne said with certainty. ‘Napoléon will dismantle the Holy Roman Empire and take as much power for himself and his family as he can. Soon we’ll all be French.’
‘I’ll never be French,’ Wilhelm said. ‘They can plant a French flag on our soil, they can impose their so-called code on us – they can even force us to speak their language – but it won’t make me French. I’m German to the core.’
‘Well said,’ Dortchen cried.
Wilhelm smiled at her, and the cold hollow of her chest was warmed.
‘We need to trust in our old allies, the Prussians, to stop him,’ Wilhelm said. ‘Napoléon’s men must be exhausted and footsore, and sick of constantly fighting. They’re a thousand kilometres from Paris – surely they cannot keep marching at such a pace. The Prussians will trounce them, don’t you fear.’
‘Bet you a thaler the Ogre wins,’ Hanne said.
Wilhelm smiled bleakly. ‘I haven’t a thaler to spare.’
December 1805
On Christmas Eve, the six Wild girls went singing into the forest, arms linked, following the tall figure of their brother, Rudolf, who strode ahead of them, an axe over his shoulder, his boots leaving black holes in the thin crust of snow.
‘O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Forever true your colour.
Your boughs so green in summertime
Stay bravely green in wintertime.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Forever true your colour
,’ Dortchen sang.
‘It’s getting dark,’ Rudolf called back. ‘I’ll find us a tree so we can get in out of the cold.’
‘Make sure you find one that’s tall and straight,’ Lisette said.
‘Of course I will,’ Rudolf responded impatiently. ‘I’m not an idiot, Lisette.’
‘Sometimes I’m not so sure,’ she answered, but he had crashed through the trees and did not hear. His sisters followed him, laughing.
The landscape was all white and black and grey, the interlacing pine branches dusted with frost flowers. Snow crunched under their feet, and their breath plumed white.
‘I’m so glad to be out.’ Dortchen spun in a circle, arms held wide.
