‘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.’
RED SUN OF AUSTERLITZ
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?’
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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.’
BRAVELY GREEN
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.
‘We’ll need to be quick – it’s getting very cold,’ Hanne said, clapping her mittened hands together.
‘How I wish I had a muff,’ Lisette cried. ‘And new fur-lined boots. These are practically worn through and my feet are frozen solid.’
‘I’d rather have some new dancing slippers,’ Gretchen said. ‘Canary yellow, with silk rosettes and high heels.’
‘As if,’ Hanne scoffed.
‘Where would you wear them?’ Lisette asked. ‘Father never lets us go dancing.’
‘When I am married, I shall have a dozen pairs of dancing slippers, in every colour of the rainbow,’ Gretchen said. ‘And fur-lined winter boots.’
‘Maybe we’ll get some new boots for Christmas,’ Mia said.
‘I showed Father my boots last week and told him it was a scandal that we should be seen on the streets with holes in our shoes. You know how Father hates not to look respectable. I’m sure that I, at least, will get new boots,’ Gretchen said.
‘Here’s a fine sturdy tree,’ Rudolf called.
‘Let me see,’ Lisette cried, rushing forward, but Rudolf was already hacking at the tree trunk with his axe. Chips of wood flew up and the air was filled with the fresh, resinous scent of pine.
‘You should’ve waited – we would have found a better tree further in,’ Lisette said.
‘I haven’t got all evening to waste – I’m going to a cockfight tonight,’ Rudolf answered. ‘This one is just dandy. Besides, a big tree would just annoy Father. You know he only lets us have one under sufferance.’
Dortchen wandered away into the forest. The sky was a curious colour, like light shining through pale-green glass. Near the horizon a star was just trembling into being. She breathed deeply, the air hurting her lungs. Behind her she heard the smashing of branches as the pine tree hurtled to the ground, and the crash of its impact. She winced and lay down in a bank of snow, spreading out her arms and waving them up and down as though she were flying.
‘Dortchen,’ Lisette called. ‘Where have you got to?’
Dortchen did not reply, looking up at the sky again through the white-furred pine branches.
‘Dortchen!’
Lisette followed her footsteps through the snow and found her, still lying in the snow. ‘Aren’t you cold, little love?’ She held out a mittened hand and pulled Dortchen to her feet.
‘It looks like an angel was lying there – see?’ Dortchen pointed to the shape her body had left in the snow, with outstretched wings made from the motion of her arms.
‘You are an angel,’ Lisette told her, hugging her. ‘A very cold little angel. Look, you’ve snow all down the back of your dress. You’ll be freezing by the time we get home.’ She brushed the snow away.
Rudolf hoisted the tree into the buggy, tying it to the rail with rope. He then climbed up and unhitched their horse, Trudi, smacking her ample rump with the reins. Trudi huffed out a great blast of frosty air and began to clip-clop her way along the white road. The girls walked behind in the wheel tracks, singing once more.
Some way down the road, they came up behind a group of dark-clad figures, wrestling a tree along the wintry track. One stopped to bend over and cough, a wet hacking noise in the bell-clear air, and another rubbed his back. As the buggy came up behind them, they pulled their tree off to the side of the road to let the horse and its cargo pass. Dortchen glanced at them curiously and recognised Lotte’s unruly dark hair curling from under her knitted cap.
‘Lottechen!’ she cried.
‘Dortchen!’ Lotte called back, and the two girls ran together and hugged as if they had not seen each other only that morning.
‘What are you doing?’ Dortchen asked.
‘We wanted to cut ourselves a tree but we didn’t realise it’d be so heavy. It feels like we’ve been dragging it along for hours. My arms are about to fall off.’
‘Why don’t you tie it to our buggy? There’s plenty of room.’
‘Could we really? That would be such a help.’ Lotte skipped back to her brothers, calling the news to them, and Dortchen followed close behind.
‘Good evening, Dortchen,’ Wilhelm said, pausing to cough again. ‘It’s a lovely clear night.’ His voice was hoarse and his face very pale, with a sheen of sweat on his brow.
‘So you’ve been cutting yourself a tree too?’ Karl asked. ‘May we really tie it to your buggy?’
‘Thank you for your kind offer, but there are six of us – we’ll manage,’ Jakob said.
‘It’s no problem, we have room,’ Dortchen responded. ‘And we’re going straight past your door, so it’s not as if we’d have to go out of our way.’
Dortchen’s sisters came hurrying up, warmly seconding her suggestion and calling out to Rudolf to stop. Rudolf jumped down and helped hoist the Grimm family’s tree onto the buggy. The light from the buggy lantern cast a golden radiance over his hair. Although he was only two years older, Rudolf was a head taller and considerably broader in the shoulder an
d chest than Jakob. Jakob scarcely looked at him, only muttering his thanks and moving away.
Jakob is proud, Dortchen thought. He must find it hard to accept help.
‘Would you like to ride up here with me?’ Rudolf asked him as he vaulted back up onto the driving seat.
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ Jakob said. ‘Maybe Lotte …’
‘I’d rather walk with Dortchen,’ his sister said.
‘Then perhaps Wilhelm could ride,’ Jakob said. ‘He’s not well.’
‘I’m fine, really I am,’ Wilhelm said, but his brother insisted and gave him a boost up to the driving seat, next to Rudolf. Even that small exertion made Wilhelm catch his breath and cough. ‘It’s the cold,’ he said, seeing Dortchen’s anxious eyes upon him. ‘It makes my asthma worse.’
She wanted to tell him to drink tea made from rosehips and elderflowers, but Rudolf had clicked his tongue and the buggy had moved on, leaving Dortchen to slog along in its wheel ruts.
The other Grimm brothers fell into place behind the buggy, walking along with the Wild sisters. After a moment, Hanne began to sing again. To Dortchen’s surprise, Jakob joined in. He had a fine, deep voice. Wilhelm turned about so he could join in too. Even Rudolf sang. Overhead, the sky was one vast spread of stars, rimmed with dark spires of trees.
Many other families had gone to the forest to cut Christmas trees, this being the only time of year that the law against cutting wood was relaxed. Many carts and buggies and wheelbarrows laden with snow-spangled trees lined the road, but everyone sang or chatted companionably, and so nobody minded the slow progress in the cold.
Inevitably, the talk turned to the war.
‘So there will be peace? Austria will sign the treaty?’ Rudolf asked Jakob, who now worked in the War Office and so had all the news first-hand.
Jakob nodded. ‘They’ll sign this week. The terms are so harsh, though, that the Kurfürst thinks the Austrians will be unable to endure for long. He believes it is Napoléon’s intention to force Emperor Francis to abdicate.’