Years of preparation come to a close.

*_*_*_* Mike/Maria *_*_*_*

I loved watching this Ambrose August van Horne, as he was riding around inspecting his men, and checking things. Most of us can sit on a horse, though some are scared of it. Some persons learn to be a good rider, but August was amongst the select few who are one with the horse. He may be young - though nominally a few years older than me, he had this boyish charm, and yet he did care about his responsibility as an officer; a quality not very common either in this times where leadership in the army was a consequence of paying for your position. He obviously was of good stock, looked aristocratic, but could be son of a wealthy merchant, and the name from north Holland, I presume. I didn't ask too much details there and then. He was recommended by my friend the Countess, so I hope her judgement was sound. I must keep focused on the task ahead, and not think about boys, even if he was radiating maleness. It could cloud my judgement, just as it had in the case of Johannes van de Goes. Funny, I had practically forgotten Johannes now, as the name Augustus Ambrosius was singing in my heart.
I was all to aware I was behaving like a teenager, infatuated in every handsome boy that happen to be nearby. Where had the good old Mike gone. Was I completely Maria now? Scenes from my past were re-emerging. A father dying when his horse was shot under him, and he broke his neck, and us still forced to flee. A dim glimpse of my mother coughing blood, followed by her body in a bier.

We met the refugees on the road, in tear and hungry, Our food was quickly depleted. The looting was bad enough, sending poor people on the road - sick and old , women with small babies or pregnant. Some even giving birth on the side of the road. There were too many - to give relief for all. I had anticipated some, so extra tents and food was available, by they were too many. Too few for all. The boats sailed up the Ijsel, they came with herring, flour, as well as the heavier pieces of artillery and ... yes that was going to be surprises. One surprise: Anna was on one of the boats, with medical supplies. I told her she was out of her mind - she had left the baby at home. Claimed that she could do something, and she had a nurse to take care of Wilhelm back in Altana. She said: "I owe you at least that". There and then there wasn't time to ask her for more details.

With her came loads of ammo. The money, and the promise of more money from the VOC had made the production of cartridges possible, and the women in Altana worked overtime to send what was needed. Greta had between her other tasks written letters to those who owed money to Zevenhuis Bros, and told them to pay up. The promissory notes from the VOC were still worth their weight in gold. Anna added:
"You gave them the first good news in a long time when you conquered Kampen. They felt so awful for having laughed at you. And when your victory at Groeningen was known, there was a party that lasted ..."
"I was too busy trying to get my troops organised"
"That is why they have sent their loved ones, sons and husband"
I looked at the rabble - their enthusiasm could not compensate for lack of discipline. Their willingness to die for their country could so easily be just that.
Anyway - we had to put them to work lest they do mischief.

*_*_*_*Augustus Ambrosius *_*_*_*

"I have a bad feeling" said Carl von Rabenhaupt.
"Are you just as superstitious as the sailors. Still don't want women on board the ship?" Maria asked.
"No - I have faith in you "
"Thank you! At least that is something. There is always something that goes wrong with the best of plans. As von Clausewitz said: The enemy of a good plan is the dream of a perfect plan. There are many reasons why this is true. One of them is that you lose the initiative if you try to be too clever, and the second is that you'd be amazed about how many generals have refused to accept new information because it doesn't fit with their so called perfect plan."
"This von Clausewitz - is he a friend of yours?"
Maria took some time to answer - as if she had said something she shouldn't.
"Ah, I just found some notes written by him - clever chap - but some of it is just obvious such as: 'Fighting is the central military act' or 'Engagements mean fighting'. 'The object of fighting is the destruction or defeat of the enemy'. In this case I am all to aware that destruction is necessary, as Hannibal son of Hamilcar discovered: the Roman senate would not negotiate a peace even if they were defeated in many battles. Just look at England - we have the third war now in less than twenty years. Their parliament will maybe behave like the Roman senate. Then we will have to fight to the last drop of blood."

We then rode on. Carl and Maria discussing why Hannibal, though he won stunning victories at Trebia, Canna, and still lost so absolutely at Zuma. I was silent as I was fascinated by their discussion, and the way they discussed: as equals.
"I would never thought I could discuss Hannibal and Alexander with a woman; much less one who knows what war is!" said Carl.
“What kind are those birds”, I interrupted them, pointing towards some large birds hovering above the southern and western skies.
The Baron of Sucha squinted towards the skies. “Young man. You shouldn't interrupt your betters, even if your pedigree is perfect.” he reprimanded me.
“Those are my birds” Maria said in a much more conciliatory tone- “Don't worry about them. They look for a prey”
They continued discussing war.
“Why are you so certain that the French will come and meet us there” , Carl said while pointing on the map, that almost was blown out of his hands.
"It has the advantage for them also to concentrate the army, instead of having it spread out on the front. They must think themselves invincible against a relatively puny Dutch force. To quote an old master 'Pretend Inferiority and encourage his arrogance' "
"Are you quoting this von Clausewitz again?"
"No - a man that lived far from here - two thousand years ago - Sun Tzu was his name", she said.
Strange but fascinating woman, this Maria Zevenhuis.

A boy came on a horse with an encrypted message to Maria. I noticed that Carl was curious, but he had no way to read it himself.
"An army of English soldiers, beefed up with French units were trying to take Kampen by surprise – They got a surprise, but not their own. The duke of Monmouth has surrendered. "
She also got another message from Greta. “A large section of the French army is moving towards us. Probably 100 000 men. Our prey is closing in”
“How does she get that information?” von Rabenhaupt asked.
“My little birds are speaking to her and me”.
I don't think the old Baron had an eyesight good enough to see those things that were circling around to the west, and sometimes circling in other places too.
****

The towns of Arnhem, and Nimwegen (Nijmegen old spelling) are strategic, as they are located where large rivers meet. The Ijsel branch of the Rhine river makes another natural barrier, and the Maas (Meuse in French) for the other city. The Waal branch is the main flow of the Rhine. The Nederrijn (lower Rhine) is another branch. Crossing these waterways require boats or bridges, and takes time to cross for an army. Bridges were fastest way of getting wagons across, and then a boat with impossible tall mast managed to blow up the Arnhem bridge, thus forcing a large battle: as the river-transport was closed off it was increasingly difficult to provide for the large army, unless the English fleet could get a break-through, which they were incapable of.

It was me and my men's main task to draw the French into the mouse-trap. We were equipped with new weapons - a "Caliver" as those short muskets were called, short - and looked ridiculously puny compared to the six feet long muskets, and the precisely that length made muskets impractical for most of us.
"Cavalry don't use muskets because they are too long and heavy." was a comment from one guy, who should know better than to talk back to a General, but then he said what I thought.
General Maria Zevenhuis smiled back, and said:
"You make a common mistake in logic - What's you name and rank"
"Private Durk van Dijk, Sir ... Eeeh … Madam"
"Has it struck you private van Dijk that there must be a reason the I am now General, and you are still private, although you are a man?"
"No My General"
"Liar - but it is forgiven " Maria said, and faced the rest of my men. "That is however not important - You see those three elm-trees over there, about 150 paces away- Imagine it is three French dragoons. Private van Dijk's assignment is to kill them. They are not supposed to report back our position.
They are pointing at you with muskets, and their horses are with them, but you want to capture the horses. Execute with your favourite weapon from a horseback" -
Durk was a bit bewildered, but mounted and engaged rode down 100 paces, discharged one pistol, performed a volt that was a variant of a caracol to draw his second pistol. and then rode back. One of the shots had hit the trees - actually only one tree.
"How many Frenchmen did you kill?" Maria asked.
" Eeh " , Durk suddenly remembered that his assignment was to kill three..
"And do you think they would not have shot back at you? You leave one - and you are probably dead, and anyway you fail your mission because the remaining will report back"
Some men laughed at the unfortunate private.
"I hear there are guys here that would solve the assignment better? Anybody want to try?"; they stopped laughing.
She was already mounted. What had seemed to be a skirt was split in the middle, so she could sit astride the horse in a normal saddle. The spurs on her boots had torn a rift in the long fabric. Although she had used side-saddle the other day, she was using a normal saddle now, and for good reason as she was guiding the horse with the spirs, and not the reins. She was a good rider after all. She showed the rifle and said:
"I will now show you how you can execute the assignment - and remember - I have no doubt YOU tough men are better riders and better marksmen than me, a weak woman"
She got the horse into canter. She was not that bad a rider as our first encounter could give the impression of. With her spurs she guided the horse, while it cantered, leaving the hands free to shoulder the rifle, and shoot at the trees while circling my men, sometimes shooting over their heads and never closer to the trees than 100 paces. No priming and reloading seemed necessary. White marks on the trees marked where the bullets had torn off bark. Ten shots is a short time.
"Do you think the French Dragoons are dead now?"
"Yes"
“Yes what?”
“Yes Madam”
"I, Maria van Zevenhuis, pledge you this- I will give you dangerous assignments, but never an impossible task, and I will try to give you the tools to do it so you can come home to your loved ones".
From that moment I had nothing else than respect for her, and I understood how she could give hope in an utterly desperate situation, and I understood why Albertine Agnes had promoted her to General.
I was learned that I had been wrong in one detail. The caliver required loading and priming, but it was done so quickly.

My men were divided in groups of 6 and 6, and girls that knew everything there was to know about the calivers showed us how to shoot. As they pointed out: “You men are supposed to know how to ride. We teach how to handle the rifle”. The instructions continued with: How to disassemble, how to clean, and explained how it worked. They were insisting on keeping the barrel clean of dirt, and in dry condition, although they claimed it could work when coming out of the water, as the small "cartridges" were watertight.
Maria provided me with a pistol. She said:
"An officer is supposed to have a small hand-weapon. I only have a few of these. Can't give one to everyone. They work the same way, but produce even less smoke, and of course the range is about the same as a musket, so don't use it against your enemy - it is to shoot deserters and so on"
As she showed me how to use it I got really close. She held around me, as she showed how to aim along the barrel.
General Zevenhuis was not small, but very thin. She seemed like she could blow away with the next gust of wind. I sniffed her hair that smelled like a field of flowers.

We were all nervous, and we had constant skirmishes with the French, I learned to like these "Rifles" -as they got us out of trouble at least six times in five hours. When you can hit someone half a mile away, while they have to be less than a hundred paces from you, there is really no way we could loose.
"Don't get cocky - you are very young - but not too young to die." said Maria - "There is no honour in getting killed, and if you are taken prisoner, I will kill you myself, " she said with a cold smile " and remember to tell the men that - just by being here today will make them heroes - even if they hopefully will find that the best place to be is hiding in a ditch by the Ijsel."
I relayed this to my men, but I don't know if they took it seriously.
The Veluwe is a higher area than the rest of the Rhine delta, and is sand and gravel deposited by glaciers, Maria was going to tell me later. She could tell me strange things that were not written in the Book, but she was right about so many things so why not that too? The main point was that it was not good farmland. It was forested, but the forest was used to build ships, so it was no longer as large as it once was. And the farmers were letting livestock graze here, preventing re-growth. Good for me, because there was far too many French. More than there were trees, and they came from everywhere. We retreated, and a few were hit by bullets as the volley of musketballs can hit due to random chance. Actually I got hit, but the bullet had lost velocity so it just hurt like H***. It was only when we forced our horses back and into the river that it struck me that my pants were already wet before I went in, and the fluid was neither blood nor water. Lt-General van Zevenhuis was worried about me when I was brought back bleeding. She was otherwise pleased. The French would assume they were leading 0-1, while we had not seen any casualties.

From the other side - a company of musketeers, German weergelders - mercenaries- from Saxen, were shooting at the French. Useless - I wondered why not use the new weapons, when it dawned on me that Maria was trying to make the French arrogant. You don't need much to do that.
I got back to HQ, and found out that Carl Rabenhaupt was indisposed. Some Captains and Colonels didn't want to have Maria leading. I supported her, because she had got us this far. When she spoke all men in my regiment listened.
They consulted Carl Rabenhaupt, or rather his ADC Adolf von Peizen, who came back with an answer. "The commander said the following: «Denn de HERR wird den Sisera in die Hand eines Weibes fallen lassen.» which is a quote from the Book: "So the Lord will sell Sisera unto the hands of a woman."
This silenced the officers, who anyway had much to do as the plain between the river and Arnhem filled up with French infantry. We were outnumbered - we didn't need to know how to count, it would be later calculated to be in the ration 1 to 20. But Maria asked me to ride along, and we talked to the men. Men who were about to wet their pants just as I had done. She talked to the Germans in German- she talked to the local men who just joined from this area Gelderland. She talked with the marines that actually had wanted to follow Lucas, but were following her, because they had orders to guard the ship-lane: the Ijsel. The French guns- most of then 12 pounders, but some 16 pounders, were approaching with wagon-loads of black-powder kegs, and wagons full of bullets. With a 12cm or 13 cm bore , weighing about two ton per piece, they were difficult to move. We could see the the guys taking away the six to eight horses needed to pull them.
Compared to those guns, Maria's naval guns looked puny, but as in love and war: size matters, but is not everything. The French had the largest guns, a monstrous army, and were led by competent generals.
On the East of the Ijsel was placed two captured guns and one of our own. - an old one with uncertain calibre. Windage was going to be a problem for that one - Maria said, and explained that the bullet is always smaller than the calibre of the gun, otherwise it would take forever to force it down. Windage was a major problem of any gun.
My leader radiated calm and control. She was so confident in her actions and speech, and there couldn't be any doubt that she had chosen this location for battle because it was where she wanted it to be.
*_*_*_*Mike/Maria *_*_*_*

I laid out my strategy:
"Gentlemen - my plan is to pack as much French soldiers together, and then let my guns talk. When they have finished talking you have to act- your actions depend on the result. I hope they pack tightly, as that makes it easier. If they don't it will take longer to achieve total victory. In these envelopes are your instructions on how to behave depending on what happens. It is of course of utmost importance that our men, and … women … are not taken by panic, but feel confident that they can do their job. You three - will cross at the bend of the river - Most of you others will have to try to cut the French off by crossing the Rhine - there - I have prepared a temporary Bridge – You,van Horne - and most others will have to stay on this side, and wade across the Ijsel if the opportunity is there. Fall-back position are here and Zutphen.” She pointed at the map - “just in case we have to fight another day... That is not part of the plan, but who knows. We have to pray this my be the last battle for a while. Good luck Gentlemen, and help keep my artillery safe- The Lord will decide today, and I am confident"

The Zwan was located at the location where the Rhine divides into the lower Rhine and the Ijsel. The barges with rockets were located at various locations - and one of them was next to the Niewe Tulp, with the ship-gun. Greta was one of the spotters up in the crows nest where they were busy feeding information. I had the Captains and Colonels of the units in stand-by present here in the beginning, so they could understand how I managed the battle plan without being at the front, not even on a horse. The enemy units were marked with small black figurines, some of which were from chess. Their army was huge. Soon the HQ was located, as the French "haut-commandement" selected a good location to view the area. There and then we did not know exactly who were present, but there was a large amount of dashing hats with ostrich feathers. They didn't know that that hill had been accurately surveyed, so our gunners knew the range. The fallow fields now in bloom with dashing soldiers and officers of an aristocracy that was so full of themselves. All units were identified on their flags, most with a white cross on a coloured background, the French flag: white with golden lilies was also seen a lot. The drums were rolling a beat. The fifes were whistling tunes. Their guns were rolled forward on the ground.

Actually the French opened the ball, but their bullets just rolled aimlessly on a field where no-one was, as the weergelders from Saxen fled. Of course there was a stupid boy who thought he could kick the rolling bullet as if it was a football. That kind of stupidity is rewarded with the loss of a leg. Most bullets were stopped by stacks of sandbags. Some rolled into the water of the Ijsel, or in a swamp or in the lake. I had tried to distribute some guys with experience from Groeningen or Zutphen or Kampen to explain to the soldiers why I did not want them to lump together, as was usual, but rather stay on line - three deep, and with some distance between each of them -Each company stood with a huge distance from one another. A few shots were fired from our guns , but seemed to most French soldiers to not cause any harm as the projectiles flew high above their head, and little did they know the target was far away to the rear, and the fire was answered by French guns placed on the ridge. Even experienced officers were fooled by this. The guns were re-aligned and .... our answer came from the seven guns were allowed to talk at the same time from a location called Giesbeek. They were aiming at the hills of the Veluwe where the French HQ was located - as it gave the view required to check what was going on on the plain. Bad luck for the gentlemen of the staff - as only 30 seconds bunch of officers gathered there were dead or wounded. The officers in front of the men were not yet targeted, but they would as the riflemen aimed at them, and there was riflemen that shot the gunners, or hit the powder-kegs so everything blew up. - and then a wall of fire rose behind, cutting off the retreat to Arnhem. Greek fire was used - mostly to prevent soldiers to flee that way, and the "De Zwan" was spraying the shores of the Rhine. Horses with or without riders. There were French soldiers on the southern banks, but their shots could not dent the hull of the "De Niewe Tulp", and two got fried, as a spray of flames suddenly was sent at them. The sight of men running away with flames emerging from their back was quite demoralizing for anyone seeing it.

The officers of the various French regiments were waiting for orders. They saw their own men fall. It was eerie, the survivors would tell, when the rockets flew high, and exploded with bright lights as a firework, yet suddenly some soldier next to them would crumble hit by a viscous bullet. No orders came from the HQ. One man came down and cried above the sound of falling bombs - They are all dead. - As he said that the first volley of rockets came wailing, and made huge dents in the originally so neat line-up of soldiers. Soldiers fled the only way open to them - towards the village of Rheden and they ran without their heavy rifle. They ran leaving their regimental flag behind.

Racks full of rockets had been brought to the left bank of the Lower Rhine river, and from there they shot volleys after volleys of these crude weapons that were equipped with a device that made each rocket go through the air screaming like Scottish banshees. That was part of the plan - to seed panic in a mass of soldiers that have nowhere to go, but to climb on his fellow soldier in order to escape certain death. Several Frenchman got a bayonet from a fellow into his back. Greta was going to tell later how large dents in the regiments formed, a bit like what happens when a heavy rainfall hits a field just before harvest. Only in front did it look like the farmers were advancing with their scythes, mowing down the corn - only forgetting some straw here and there. The red colour of the harvest was a reminder that this was a slaughter. The whole battle or rather carnage, didn't last very long.
In an hour - we saw the surrender of 60 000 men that had to be herded north - ultimately imprisonment on some of the islands. Many a French woman would sing "Auprès de ma blonde", with emphasis the couplet that says that he is in Holland, the Dutch have taken him.
I bade van Horne to mount, and secure the enemy HQ, with whatever means was necessary. I detailed some civilians equipped with orange capes to move over the grounds and collect weapons and dead, and identify unexploded bombs if any ( there were a hundred of them). I had to change as a delegation with the white and golden French colours approached.

*_*_*_* Guy Aldonce de Durfort *_*_*_*

Guy Aldonce de Durfort firmly believed that he was destined for something great. As the nephew of Turenne, and the brother of the duke of Duras, he was aiming for the most prestigious positions in the army. Actually there was not much options. He was dirt poor, as his older siblings inherited the earth. He was not inspired to pursue an ecclesiastical career, and he imagined he was destined to command the king armies. He had really enjoyed to make war in Holland. It had started so fine. Well if it hadn't been for the wet rain, the damp, and the cold, and this sudden reversal. He got unconfirmed news some days ago that his uncle was dead. He was full of lust for revenge. Spirits were running high again, as the news their German allies had lost. The condescending attitude was driven by the experience that French artillery was the best, they had a longer range than Dutch pieces and French musketeers were more numerous and better equipped than the enemy, and even their ally the soldiers of German Prince-Bishops. The Dutch towns surrendered when their defences could hardly hit the French troops, while the attackers could bombard the ramparts of the towns. Then their success of May and June had withered. It was a literally bog-down army, trying to cross the large moat created when the dikes were broken. At last they had hoped to see action again. Condé had announced “The bear has been lured out of its den”
That the got the news half a day ago that the small English army led by Monmouth, had to surrender at Kampen, was only ample proof of superiority of the French. The rumours that the Dutch were an army of women, only heightened the feeling of superiority. To speculate how his noble uncle Turenne could have met his demise, was defeatism.
Condé had barely had time to eat his breakfast, and observe that the different units were put in the right places. The cavalry was moving on the flanks towards Erbecque (Eerbeek in Dutch), with plans to encircle the foolish Dutch, when hell broke loose. One of the few large oaks remaining protected him, but not the majority of the staff.
He had found Condé in a pool of blood. He was wounded in the abdomen. Prince of France, yet still a mortal, Condé was in agony, but instructed him to do the necessary, as the game was over. It was so clear that the regiments were decimated. Total disaster. Condé reminded him that he was the most senior officer present- a mere Colonel, and he had to surrender. There might be more senior officers somewhere on the field, but he was on the HQ staff, otherwise well furbished with princes of this and marquess of that. His career was in ruin, but duty called; it was the only thing he could do: he carried out the order of surrender. Half the army had already come to the same conclusion, and were waving shirts and whatever. He prayed those damned guns and rockets to stop stop.
The enemy guns finally grew silent
At the front - apparently unharmed, was an officer. He recognized Roger de Guénégaud , the marquess of Plancy, and supposed to be 'mestre de camp-lieutenant' of the regiment royal de cavalerie. But there was no regiment left, all his men and the king's hoses were lying about dead or dying.
The regimental flag with the text "Nec pluribus impar" no longer legible was in the mud. Who cares?

A half mile further on, next to the green regimental flag of the Auvergne regiment. A bloody brocade uniform told him were the duke of Luyns once stood. A leather boot with a loin probably had belonged to the corpse.
His horse refused to step on a pile of tripe. His thoughts wandered to the dukes son, who was now two, or was it three? How many more children had lost their father?
Towards him rode a regiment of dragoons. At least he assumed they were as they had muskets as their main armament.
The officer saluted him as he got closer.
“Sir! I am the regimental captain van Horne” the officer said, in a very good French. At least this Dutchman were civilized and talked like a cultivated person, and not with the ape-like sounds he had heard from the commoners.
“I am Colonel Guy Aldonce de Durfort. My Commander, the prince of Condé, has requested me to surrender to the Commander in Chief of the Army of Holland. Do you mind escorting me to him. ”
The captain smiled a bit,
“I would have pleasure in accommodating your request, but my orders are quite specific. I am however prepared to give you one man as escort. We are a very small army. By the way … This is mainly the southern Frisian army, so the commander in officer is only Lieutenant General”, the man said with a mischievous smile.

Under a flag of truce, a white shirt, with the Kings flag - white and the golden lilies carried by his orderly he rode towards the enemy, screams of pain from dying getting a bit fainter. His horse wasn't the fine steed he wished he could find. Few horses survived the carnage The gun-positions were facing him. He got a bit closer to the trench, and found women busy cleaning the guns. Was this some kind of joke? He had seen it happened that women were handling this when a city's defence was at its last. Here he was soon surrounded by women carrying muskets. The incredible story was true. He was told to walk on the last hundred metres. MERDE - the commander was a woman too.

"Let me surrender to a real officer"
"Actually - I may not look like it, but I am Lieutenant General van Zevenhuis. The Lieutenant-General von Rabenhaupt, is more senior, but was inconvenienced during the night, and had to stay in bed. But you are free to return and die with your men. Just remember there is no honour in being dead for a stupidity .... although some believe that too!"

He looked around, defeated in many ways. He remembered having read the first half of a comedy sent to him by his young friend, the prince Eugene of Savoy. Written by someone called Montfeury, the “Fille du Capitaine” portrayed a girl going into the military while a man shirked his duty to king and country. Prince Eugene was just as likely of becoming a great leader as that pathetic Le Blanc. The Prince had like all young boys no idea what a carnage was. Better for him to pursue an ecclesiastical career.
Forget fiction , back to reality. He handed over his sword, and the one of Condé.
"The Prince of Condé asked me to surrender it, lest it be stolen by some lout"
"Is the prince of Condé alive?"
"Alas! He suffers terribly as he is wounded here" - Guy said, and pointed a bit below his middle section. Everyone knows that nobody survives a wound in the abdomen.
“I will ask my sister-in-law to have a look at him. Maybe we can save him. We have had but few causalities ourselves.”

Some hours later he had to facilitate the surrender of six regiments that had walked across the Veluwe, from Amersfoort and other smaller towns. Men that had missed the fighting, or rather the slaughter, and never understood they had lost. They were just instructed to surrender.

*_*_*_* Mike/Maria *_*_*_*

There are millions of things to handle when you are at war. We were lucky that they finally gave up, as our ordinance of grenades and rockets was depleted. The Congreve rockets had so effective, but it took two -three hours to mount in the launchpad. They were inaccurate, but with the plains tightly packed with soldiers, there was always someone to kill wherever they went. This respite, if it was was a good time to grab some food, and as the sun was climbing high, and the weather was nice it was almost like a picnic. My sister-in-law Anna had arrived late in the evening, but was busy with the refugees, as there was no hardly wounded on our side. She was worried about Paul who had conquered the former Bishopric of Münster. The delegation approached, so I got some help to look presentable. It felt kind of ridiculous, but some are partial to that.
Von Rabenhaupt was still out of commission with his lose bowels. I had slipped some laxative in the old fools food, a small revenge for his lack of supporting me after Groningen, and he still believed it was typhoid fever. Later I would look him in the eyes and say:
"God had healed you", then he believed it. Meanwhile....
I appointed a group of guardsmen and officers of the Schuterij of various cities - to supervise the procedure of processing prisoners, securing weapons, with orders to hang thieves, in any camp. All the messy administration of a victory started. I could delegate a lot to the official business to him commander in chief, as he got on his feet again. Anna had arrived the night before, and had helped me give Carl the potion. Poor Carl- he really thought he had caught Typhoid fever. Now I gave Anna the assignment of getting Condé back from the land of the nearly dead. She wanted the Dutch refugees to first priority, but there was so much prestige if she could get the remaining internationally known Humpty Dumpty French general together again, then we could forget about all the kings horses Van Horne came back from the HQ of the defeated army. It was in such a shamble that they had not managed to recover papers, except what was burned by our bombs. I wrote in my report that August and his men conquered the enemy's HQ, although by now it was a walk in the park. It also gave me a reason to be with him afterwards. I asked his advice, even when I didn't really need it.

Was it a decisive victory? Clausewitz' words came to mind "There is only one decisive victory: the last.”
I was also worried about were the remaining French soldiers were located. They could continue a desperate fight despite orders of surrender. Furthermore Louis XIV was not a king to give up unless he had some kind of gain, however small.

It was great to find the archives, and there was the Dutch proposal, and there was the French proposal for a peace settlement. I knew very well that the offer from William and Johann de Witt was done in a difficult situation, but it was horrible from the point of view of Dutch national pride. Most of the demands of king Louis were known, but there were these details that were absolutely unacceptable, and the translation had not been exact. This had national importance- I had to show this to the Dutch people. Carl received a messenger from the East: Paul had finally taken the city of Munster, otherwise meeting little opposition. He claimed the Bishopric for himself calling himself Herzog (Duke) von Münster. I realized that the worries of his dear Anna were not unfounded.

It is quite frustrating to not being able to be in several places at once. I was about 100km from Amsterdam the Hague. In a motor vehicle you can get there in two hours even with moderate traffic, while here I had to travel at a lesser speed, and the trip took more than one day, unless you jumped from horse to horse like the messengers did. Words of our victory travelled fast, but would it travel fast enough? Von Rabenhaupt decided I should go to Holland, with the most distinguished prisoners. He said the
"Victory belonged only to you and God. I dream of Glory for myself, but this victory belongs to you and only you."
I will kill the one who tells him what I did to keep him away during the battle.

We boarded "De Niewe Tulp" as it was quite large, and could accommodate some of my girls, as a guard of honour, and some of van Horne’s regiment. They had to leave the horses. Anyway these were not the best mounts. On board "De NieweTulp" I had the Duke of Monmouth, six French officers, including Durfort, and François de Neufville, who was partially recovering from lesser wounds, and two German noblemen. I had ordered most of my girls, the ones that knew how to handle the heavy guns, to get back to Deventer and Zwolle, and take residence. with artillery and all.
"Leave it to Rabenhaupt and his men to get all the way to Maastricht. - You have liberated your country - now you must fight to keep independence from those who want to profit from the risk you took", said Augustus.

I showed the documents recovered to August, and the decryption of the secret letters sent to the HQ of the Armé de Hollande. as Louis XIV called his northern army. Augustus was appalled at contents the demands of the French was, though as a catholic himself, he saw that the proposal had nothing to do with religious rights, but political power. But even more at what the commander in chief had as a counter proposal. Even that was unacceptable.
"Remember Augustus - the offer was done while the Dutch army seemed to lose everything"
"Still - It is a complete servile offer - "
"Most of it is known - Wilhelm has published the French demands, and parts of the Dutch proposal to bring down de Witt, he just didn't publish his counter-offer"
"B-but his counter offer is almost as bad", he stammered.
"He saw an opening to bring down a man he hates more than anyone else."

The wind was a gentle southerly so we had a nice progress to . On the way we we were hailed, as the news of our victory spread. A boat moves day and night. The mood on board was great - except for the prisoners stowed away in a locked room. I loved every second of it because I was with August.
"So you are the woman, that was the talk of the town about a month or two ago, that was arrested posing as a man."
I felt the heat reaching my sun-burned face. A week outdoors a short time after having spent a month in the dark did not prepare it, and I felt ashamed for not having the milk white skin of noble women. The large brimmed hat worn during the campaign did not prevent the sun from afflicting my skin.
"Yes - proves that it is the kinky side that is remembered. Nobody remembers that I managed to have a doctorate at La Sorbonne, and that I have financed almost five regiments, omitting what Paul has managed to embezzle, and now achieved the total destruction of the French northern army"

"So - so. In the the long run they will forget the cross-dressing because so many have done that, and no other have crushed so large an army with so few losses. Common people do not care for academic achievements. Had you got a theological degree, it would have been more scandalous. By the way; won't you ever wear trousers again, will you?"
"Oh- No, I gave my word of honour. But breaches or dress is not the issue. What prevents a person for doing what they want to do, and are good at, is the issue. I made a promise to de Witt, and I will stick to it even if inconvenient. My word is my bond. Eventually I hope I can fight inequity in treatment of gender. "
"I have to admit I prefer to see women in female clothes. I am glad I didn't see you then. Yet you are entitled to be different - You are a renown scientist, and have proven you are a great general"
"I feel like I am cheating. They didn't stand a chance against science and industrial technology applied to warfare. But … Augustus You are an astounding rider. You would not be happy if you were forced to wear something that prevented you from sitting astride a horse. Try one day to guide your horse without reins, and with both your legs on one side. Try climbing a tree or onto the mast of a ship. That is almost impossible even with the split dress I now wear, that allows me to to sit astride, and still gives the impression of being a decent dress. These wide skirts would far to easily make me slip. However my goal goes further: I want to make the society more equal or rather equitable for all; men too."
"How so?"
"You may not think it is an issue, but in most countries, brilliant seamen, like Michiel de Ruyter or Cort Adelaer would never command a ship, because their fathers were commoners. The latter is even a foreigner. The greatness of the United Provinces is that such talent can flower. Johan de Witt has ruled the United Provinces almost like a King would, because he was the best. In any other country he would have been relegated to a servile position, and discarded when the Monarch was not pleased with him.
The United Provinces would already have lost if the officers were limited to your kind - sorry - but it is the truth - not all noblemen are natural riders like you - so not all are suited"
"I hadn't though about this way!" He said, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"The same applies for the fairer sex. Not all are suited to cook and sew, and some of us probably suck at tending our husband. Choice is the essence! Freedom, and if you want my opinion, the discrimination against Catholics is also wrong”
I was a bit passionate about it. Augustus did not quarrel on this. I think I sowed a seed of understanding.
We ate dinner together, mostly in silence. The girls were still afflicted by the horrors they had seen, but they also knew it was necessary. I warned them that difficult times were not over.

After dinner I ordered a round of juniper spirits to everyone, although most girls preferred beer. I gave orders, warning them that next days may be joyous, or tough. I explained that for some reason Wilhelm van Oranje had not followed the French retreat. It was almost as if he was unaware that we had won. But it could also indicate he was busy with a power-struggle. That again could point towards civil war.
I was exhausted - I used the last opportunity to distribute the watches. The sun was setting. The stars became visible, first Venus, then Sirius.
In the darkness Augustus was daring to touch my hand. I could feel my heart making several leaps. I suddenly wanted to wear something nicer than what I was currently wearing, as the grime and dirt of riding and fighting was sticking to the fabric.
"Maria"
I faced him as he looked at me. My legs felt weak. I could hear the beat of my heart.
“General – during ...”
“Hush – Now – at this time and place we are not General and Captain. We are Maria and Augustus” I heard myself say – feeling bolder than in the heat of battle.
“I was afraid you die during the battle”
I can't remember if it was my line in the dialogue or Augustus who said it.
We stood there for a long time just touching each other. Of course it had to end, and Augustus did by putting his foot in it.
"Maria - do you think that your brother ... "
"If you have a question to Paul you better ask him himself. He is raving mad and wants to conquer the Bishopric of Munster, and Cologne. And all this because I have killed the first, and I have Maximilian-Henry as a POW. So the victory is mine, and he tries to steal the fruits of the battle. When you have a question involving me - ask me! Understood?"
My temper was a bit short, and I had to remember to change the rags around my crotch soon. He was stuttering when he answered Yes
"I need to go to bed -and get some sleep"

The "De Niewe Tulp" was not a passenger boat, so there was only one suitable cabin - usually used by the captain. Now it was used by Maria.
As we neared Rotterdam by early light, we were stopped by several armed vessels. Their crew was not aware the French had withdrawn, and surrendered, thus they broke into a joy when they got the news. We were bringing the highest ranked prisoners to the prison of the capital. We made good progress because of the secret propulsion engine on the Niewe Tulp and the Zwan.

*_*_*_* Mike/Maria *_*_*_*
We navigated the canals through Delft in the early morning. I couldn't sleep, even when Greta came to take my watch. I was all excited. I think it shone through.
“You have fallen in love.” Greta said. Neither a question nor something that surprised her.
“I am so happy for you”, she added.
“Yes but I am not so sure I am worthy of him.”
“You – not worthy? You have achieved miracles. You are his superior in military grade. You have achieved the highest scientific distinction”
“Well... You and I know I am a fraud. I have stolen knowledge from the twenty-first century, exploiting my fairly good memory.”
“Precisely – you managed to do that, working your way out of poverty while I was just living like the daughter of a commoner”, Greta said.
“Speaking of commoner. Paul is the bastard son of the late count Günter von Arnsberg zu Siebenbergen, who lost most of his land during the 30 year war, and his remaining land, and the castle was taken after his assassination. We were lucky as we happened to be outside the castle when it was taken. Anna tells me Paul is now planning to retake our land with some mercenaries”
Greta looked at me for a while, and then she says
“You remember nothing from before? I mean as Maria before you took possession of the body?”
“I have only some vague ghostlike memories. I remember a huge man I adored, but only his coat. I remember I was treated with respect. A scene from a time when I entered a church and everybody bowed or curtsied to me, even if I was a little girl.” I said.
Greta pulled out the silver chain she kept around her neck. At the end was a small silver schilling. The chain must have cost more than the coin with a hole in it.
“You don't remember this coin?”
“No” I said a bit bewildered.
“Let me tell you a short fairytale of a poor little girl, who received four coins like this. She was hungry, and sad because her sister died. The one who gave these as alms was a little girl named Maria, daughter of the count. Her brother was standing by and criticising her for wasting money.”

My father remembered the name of the place and confirmed 'the little rich girl' had to be the count's sole heir, as that was public knowledge in the village. I kind of knew that when I saw you the first time in Zwolle, although afterwards I was not so certain. When you got pneumonia this winter I had to take off all your clothes and wash you as well as them. Then I saw you had the arms of the Arnsberg, the eagle, on your lower back. It may be the more complicated composite coat of arms of the Arnsberg zu Siebenbergen was too difficult for the tattoo artist, but I did send one of the agents of our company to the area, and he managed to find little Maria's wet-nurse, who confirmed it was the oldest form of the coat of arms that was used.”
Greta waited a bit – to give it time to sink in. Maybe also to give me time to ask questions. She then added:
“You may know that Paul, whose name was Friedrich after your father, is only half-brother. He is the result of a youthful fling with the scullery-maid. Your father couldn't marry her, but he took responsibility for his deed, and raised Friedrich like a son, but with no prospect of inheritance. His only hope was a military career followed with a promotion if he was successful. A title would require the goodwill of the emperor, and as long as the emperor is a Catholic, he would be on the wrong side, as the Emperor would never support an Arnsberg claim against Bishops with strong ties to powerful families like the Wittelbachs. ”
I saw the logic of it, yet in the long run it is the ability to rule and control an area which counts. So I said:
“The only reason why women are historically kept out of the political sphere unless it suits men around them is because they do not wield the big equalizer. Equal opportunities and true democracy is something that goes hand in hand. But as be both know: Power grows out of the barrel a gun. ”

The guards challenged us, then let us through towards the city. They had every reason to do so, as we told them of the happy news of our great victory. I didn't quite understand - that information had been sent with a messenger first priority to the commander in chief - it should have been communicated to the public. The commander in chief was was out of town, somewhere near Bodegraven, if the information was to be trusted. Of course it was possible that the Stadhouder had not received the message, though it was sent with a French officer in tow, to make sure the French let him through.
The Hague - or 's Grevenhage differed from most cities as it was not enclosed by walls. There were checkpoints, and some hastily built fortifications; no wonder the Spanish troops had just walked in, occupying the city hundred and some years ago. We left the boats at Scheveningen, and moved fast, but in marching like good soldiers. We were stopped, but hardly checked, as women are can't be dangerous. We came through the streets, until we saw the lake called "De Vijver", where the walls of the castle Binnenhof could be seen. I give it credit- it looked less gloomy than the Bastille in Paris , or most of these medieval castles designed to oppress and defend the persons in power, but still - the wall were hiding such bad memories, as inside there was the main prison. In front of us was a gate, but unwatched ... strange. On the inside was a huge crowd. Behind me I noticed a woman running to catch up with us. O.M.G. It was Wendela Bicker, and she told me she was so worried about her husband. Johan was called upon to make arrangements after the trial of his brother.
“Did he go there without good bodyguard? The fool –- I warned him”
I had an inkling that something was about to go very wrong. In the back of my head was some information of the importance of the 20th of August, and we were the 19th. What had changed? I quizzed some citizens that were just there because something was afoot: they knew just that there was some success in defending Groningen, but Holland and Zeeland didn't care one duit (one cent) about the war against Munster. Their war was only against France and England. Some armed citizens were supposed to prevent civilians from leaving without permission from the right authorities. Our arrival was unexpected, and they gave their place to my girls although they claimed they were acting on orders of Johan van Banchem. The latter was the leader of all the schuterij of the city. Since when? I told these guys they were not real soldiers.
Something was very wrong. I asked my girls if they believed in my sound judgement? They all shouted yes! I gave my orders, and we approached the crowd. The dreary grey roofs of the Gevangenpoort could be seen. I hated the place, but maybe because of my experience in being a client of that institution. There was the Groene Zoodje, where I had been paraded half naked, and threatened with public whipping.
"Hey - those soldiers are women!"
I took a chance - facing the crowd, and they faced me.
"Look there is that woman who dressed as a guy!"
"She wants back in prison" someone laughed
"De Witt, let her go- She is one of De Witt's agents"
The mob moved dangerously towards me.
The girls were not seasoned enough to follow my orders unconditionally.
“Shoot over their heads” - they hesitated.
Magdalena who carried the flame-thrower couldn't get the system to work.
The mob moved closer.
"She is in league with the French. She was in Paris less than a year ago!"
Someone had done their homework. I noted the face of the guy.
“She looks like a peasant now”, another guy shouted.
They referred to my sunburned face.

I readied my pistol, but I knew I could just as easy start a full riot by shooting someone.
They were now too close to use the flame-thrower safely as just a deterrent.

Suddenly he stood there: Ambrose in his elegant, yet rough male clothes, that expressed he was a man to be noted. He shouted "Stop"
"Stop - this Lady has something important to tell you"

His baritone voice carried, and dominated more than any female voice can manage.
"SILENCE"
His vice commanded respect , as if he was a seasoned Sergeant Major.
"You may not know me, but I am Augustus van Horne. My Granduncle was executed with van Egmont in Brussels. I am a mere Captain, but I was with the army of these woman- Maria Zevenhuis - appointed Lieutenant General by Countess of Frisland. I was under her generalship when we crushed the French army- with the help of our Lord, at the battle of Arnhem.
I repeat: Lieutenant General Zevenhuis has crushed the whole French army. We have won a stunning victory"
There were cheers, but also some disbelief.
"Lieutenant General Zevenhuis has killed Turenne, and Condé, and we have prisoners to prove it"
Some more cheers.
"You accuse a man - a whole family of being in the pocket of the French. Without proof, no proof, just by listening to evil whispers, you were ready to do some atrocious deeds.
Shame on you.
Thou shall not kill says the book. Do you not fear God? What were you about to do?
You accuse some men of being paid by our enemy, some who have served and fought personally at the front, while the accusers have not.
I have here in my hand a peace proposal from the evil king of France. It is recovered from the HQ of the adorers of Antichrist.
Listen: The United Provinces must give away the cities of Amsterdam and Rotterdam to England, and give the leadership of the cities to Catholics.
Quiet
and Listen; I have here the proposal signed by Stadhouder van Oranje: Give 's Hertogenbosh and the other area south of the Waal to Lodewijk (Louis XIV) .
I have here a proposal by the same prins to give Sluys to the English together with the rights to fish herring in the Northsea.
Prince van Oranje - I tell you: The United Provinces are united, and not for sale.
Prince van Oranje - you are not supporting the fishermen who toil to make a living.
People of the Hague: You who listened to the false prophets and are dancing around a golden calf: Repent.
People of Holland: Love thy god - as he has given us a great victory.
People of Holland. I tell you this war - we will win."

Augustus was a good orator, he used far more references to the scripture, than I would. Maybe the right thing to do. He had been listening to my arguments and managed to convey it in a simple fashion. His voice carried strong and loud. He moved the audience. Proves again that popularity is fickle. The crowd cheered, and started to go home quietly, and we could start to question the suspects.
Just as a carriage was exiting Binnenhof. It was the De Witt brothers. A guy ran towards the carriage, and ... fired a pistol into the wagon. Somebody shot back. I reacted on instinct, and lifted my "caliver" rifle, and shot the guy. Ten of my girls did the same, and the body of Pieter Verhagen was literally torn to pieces. One voice said: "Attack - they have to reload" - the voice was later identified as belonging to Marten van Valen, a navy lieutenant. I shot him, and so was those that tried to come closer.
The girl carrying the flame-thrower understood she had to act. One unfortunate guy was too close, although she told later she tried to avoid killing anyone. The bloke ran around screaming, burning, and dyeing.
Nothing stops a crowd more efficiently than flames. On the scene - adding to the confusion came the cavalry detachment led by Claude Frederic t'Sercelar, rushing back in. Some of the girls got killed, as they were reluctant to shoot on their own countrymen, but the truth was that these were mercenaries, acting on orders from someone without scruples. Against repeating rifles, cavalry with lances and single-shot pistols stand no chance. The survivors were told to stay on face down on the ground, some would have to stay like that for a few hours while we assessed the situation.
Inside the carriage my Lieutenant found Johan de Witt still alive, but with a shot in the belly. His brother Cornelis was unharmed by the shooting, but in a very bad shape. His shoulders were practically dislocated after the interrogation he had received. I had no time to dwell on this. There was so much to do. Most important for me was to question one prisoner.
Minutes later Wendela came wailing, angry at me for not saving the life of her husband. How could I console her? Telling her about a different reality where she would be long dead, and Johan and Cornelis not only killed, but most brutally stripped and emasculated? It was bad enough to feel I failed. Even worse to hear I was responsible for this mess.

*_*_*_*Augustus Ambrosius *_*_*_*

We had to search the Binnenhof, but most of the important persons inside fled. That some documents were not destroyed was important. Most instructive was the office of Johan van Banchem, where it was possible to recover written order for the protection of the de Witt brothers, and orders to get rid of them too.
"It was Admiral Tromp that made me do it" -
They squealed like a dying sow. I must have looked like the devil incarnate, because the man also confessed that Johan van Banchem had also been present when they were paid to look the other way.

The trick about interrogation is to make every cover-up to be exposed as a contradiction. Barber Surgeon Tischelaar was the last one to be questioned, and he understood the game was up, and he nailed Johan van Banchem, as well as Tromp into the conspiracy. The only one who's involvement was not easy to prove, because nothing was signed by him, was the Stadhouder and commander in chief of the army Willhelm van Oranje. However the prince knew that his army would refuse to fight their own countrymen, as some of his more radical supporters were eager to .

Admiral Tromp was on board his ship when he was about to be arrested. He jumped overboard into the sea, and his body was found after some hours of searching.

Wilhelm of Orange had the big army, but it was a small army that had beaten both the Münster army, and then the French. The news that Admiral Tromp's suicide as was deep into the plot to kill the de Witt brothers, and the victory over the French had changed the mood. The official blame was assigned to Rear Admiral Tromp. A dead man can't defend himself. Wilhelm could get off the hook, but not completely. Maria had talked to him in private, and Wilhelm agreed afterwards to compromise. He would step down as Stadhouder of the United Provinces, and let the general council decide. Probably expected to be re-elected. A few hours later came the news that Johan de Witt had died from his wound. Cornelis de Witt was quite maimed from the torture. Shoulders dislocated, ligaments torn. He could not work. It was decided that the judges that had ordered the torture, and denied a proper hearing, had to pay the man full pension every month.

We commandeered a house, and hired some servants to run the place. I had to arrange most of this as Maria was very busy.

Maria had arranged election of representatives of towns and provinces that were liberated. It was a clever move, as it exposed the dysfunctional oligarchical system, and it was popular with the poorer people. I think the rich thought they could get elected anyway. Then came the general assembly. Wilhelm was present, but it was funny in a way. Maria was a lot taller than the “almost king of Netherlands”, and a much more imposing figure. The discussion went on for a while. I was the chairman, considered as “neutral” - having a name which was almost as prestigious as the princes of Orange, and still remembered as an important part of the war against Spain. Maria just asked me to allow her to speak just before Wilhelm.

The crowd grew hushed, when I gave her the chair. Maria said: "I have defended the United Provinces, and I will continue to do so. The country needs inner strength against an outer enemy. I am sorry about the death of Johan de Witt, but he has sided too much with the wealthy, and I did try to make him do something about the poor state of the army.
The problem was that too much was done in the matter of governance the land without proper rules, I suggested separation of power, and independent judges with a high-court elected amongst the more merited judges. As to the necessity to have a stadhouder:
I propose one person that has shown great personal courage, and is not involved in any way in this mess,
I propose we elect dowager Countess Albertine Agnes van Nassau. "

There was a stunned moment. Everyone saw the advantage, as it restored the "face" of more than one. There was just this automatic reaction of "b..but she is a woman". However she was the leader of Friesland, and it gave an opening to her son -Henry Casimir- of Orange, to inherit the post some day in the future. So "why not?".
Wilhelm tried to speak to the assembly, got up on the rostrum but he was suddenly unable to breath. We could all hear some wheezing from his lungs, and he simply had to step down, and be carried out in a very undignified way.
Maria admitted a day later that she used a dirty trick. She told me “He has asthma- and I spayed an irritant.”

This woman was devious, yet I admired her. Her accent was harsh compared to my native Flemish, yet her words were singing in my heart. She may look like a peasant with a sun-baked face, yet she was very beautiful. She had all these strange and wonderful quotes, but her behaviour reminded me of something Niccolo Machiavelli once wrote “Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception.”
She certainly was a master of cunning deceit.
Eventually even Wilhelm voted for this solution. I just hoped Albertine Agnes would accept. She would have to change residence.

*_*_*_* Colbert *_*_*_*
"Let the devil take Zevenhuis"
Colbert was trying to get some steam out of the system. First he had hoped van Zevenhuis was neutralized although the plot to get him killed. He was stunned to learn the it was a woman behind the disguise. He should have noticed, but he was duped by her hight and the fact she had applied a small amount of facial hair on the upper lip, so common among young men just getting that masculine attribute.
That she was a woman should have played into his hand. Van Zevenhuis could end up under a guardianship, and neutralized.
Quite the contrary occurred.

He got the news of the defeat on the Rhine even before the king, and the minister of War. It was one of the commercial spies that reported it to him, by sending pigeons. His contact had said the following:"They are reminding everyone in Holland that this is the centenary of the massacre of St Bartholomew. It is time for all reformed Christians to unite".
“The prince of Condé received a gash in his abdomen. His intestines were out”
The king's cousin was as good as dead. Nobody survives wounds where the guts are protruding. At least he did not have to report this to the king, and this could bring down his rival Louvois, if played right. It was anyway Louvois' turn to feel the Kings spite.
His thoughts went also to his daughter. The message had contained a strong indication that his son-in-law had died on the battlefield. Maybe just a well. The king had called him a coward some years ago. Though it saddened him, he still considered it best to be the father in law of a man who died fighting, thus presumed to be a hero.

The story about this cross dresser had spread like bushfire in Paris, and he had been ridiculed. It was well known that this Zevenhuis was accepted as a member of Institut de France, one of his pet projects. Zevenhuis, exposed as a woman, tarnished the lustre, it had made the institute the laughing stock of Paris. "L'école des femmes" [Women's school] it was called colloquially, named after a play by Molière.
As if it was bad enough; a few weeks ago the rumours spread that the Navy; his Navy; had a female captain, that was captured alive. The rumours even had substance. Admiral d'Esté was called on the carpet. He confirmed that the person registered as Capitaine de Préville was the daughter of a childhood friend, de Bréville, so - yes - he was aware of the gender, yet had some lame excuse, “but she was hunting boars when she was 15, and she killed a man in a duel”, and the capture of the navy ship was done after an intense fight. Colbert was sure the report was inaccurate, that they had been tampered with, but d'Esté was the best man for the job. The French army had a plethora of excellent Generals, but the Navy was short of men with such distinctions.
Colbert considered the idea of spreading a rumour that Van Zevenhuis was a hermaphrodite like this Marie le Marcis who was one vote short of being hanged for sodomy back in 1601. It was tempting, but he discarded the option for the time being.
Colbert was also aware he had another problem: the pills he got from Maria Zevenhuis were poison. He had never heard about such poison before. They worked in the beginning to help him keep his work ongoing. Now they didn't help any longer, and the body felt ill when he tried to stop taking them. His agents in Holland was put on the job of getting more, The price of those pills had gone up because of the war, and a nice sum of money was for grabs for the French alchemist that could create an antidote. He was however reluctant at making an inquiry with a woman with an unsavoury reputation called La Voisin... What about Quid pro Quo?

*_*_*_*Maria *_*_*_*

I was so happy Augustus had taken the reins on the Buitenhof. I was almost ready to shoot the whole crowd, which was bad for my karma points; not that I cared so much for that any longer. What I cared about was this young man. He was fantastic. I didn't know how to handle it. Ever so often I could feel my face grow hotter than glowing coal. It made me almost forget that my mission to prevent this evil deed was mostly a failure.

….
Albertine Agnes arrived, and it was a relief in more than one way.
She hugged me while I tried to do a proper reverence, a deep curtsy, which I already felt very awkward in executing with all the grace that other ladies managed.
“You did it- You did – My son was right, you are a magician”, and she shouted for all to hear:
“Maria van Zevenhuis is my most loyal subject.”
In a more private setting I told her about the battles, and about him.
“So you fell for him? That's what I thought when we managed to raise a new cavalry regiment, so I gave him that regiment”
“What? Did you know him?”
“Well – not personally. I knew of him. He is certainly not a villein. Nothing wrong with his name!”
I understood there was something I did not understand.
“He makes my heart beat fast, but I don't know how to … say it to him
… and there is also the issue … I don't want to lose control and ownership over my factories.”
How could I explain I though I was a male in a woman's body? Yet I felt like a woman, this love I felt for Augustus the proof that my brain was very female.

“So you have not completely lost your bearings?”
“No – but how could I keep control, and still be married to him? Isn't it so that married women have to let their husbands rule in all matters, and then there is this issue of consent. I am still legally a minor, even though it has not been raised as a problem. Just remember how the courts ruled in the case of Agatha Welhouck. She was almost 30, and still the court ruled that her marriage was illegal.”
Albertine Agnes smiled,
“As to limiting the fortunes and goods in a marriage, there is a way which is valid according to the law”
“Please tell, your Grace”
“There is something called a morganatic marriage, and as to the matter of consent, the Stadhouder has some prerogatives that transcends the law. I can take the place of a legal guardian.”

The information needed some time to be processed. I had one more issue.
“How can I make him understand that he could propose if he so wishes.”
Albertine Agnes had a good laughter, and said.
“The mighty general that just crushed a foe ten times the size of her army, is not bold enough to propose herself! Yes... there is this custom that it is the man who asks the woman. You have to engage a matchmaker.”
“How do I do that?”

*_*_*_*Augustus Ambrosius *_*_*_*

I was very nervous when the stadhouder Countess requested my presence.
I owed her a lot for providing me with a regiment, when I wasn't quite qualified. I have to admit that I had learned a lot during the campaign. Now was the time to give a report to my sponsor. She let me talk first before she commented:
“I hear from my informers that you had some very cosy moments with Lieutenant General van Zevenhuis.”
“No..Nothing inap..inappropriate ha..happened” I started to stammer. “She is a very beautiful woman”
“If you could – would you marry her?”
I was taken by surprise. The Countess was most direct.
“Yes – but I am without means to support a wife and family. You know my brother has inherited all, and nothing is left for me”, I said, and felt relief for expressing the biggest hurdle I could see for entering a permanent relation.
“Should this issue with your financial situation be arranged, would you marry Maria van Zevenhuis?”
“Yes - I would propose to her immediately”
“Maria has more money than you can imagine. A contract aiming for a morganatic matrimony could be set up providing a very substantial dowry, so you wouldn't have to worry about being destitute.”

“I”, I started to say, yet a bit lost for words. “I am pleased to hear that, but why a Morganatic contract? I am the youngest son of 3, and my oldest brother Eugenius Maximiliaan has a son, eleven years old and healthy. There is no way I can inherit...”
“Well – I suppose we specify that your children will inherit your titles if you ever get any. That is the beauty of the morganatic marriage, it can specify the details, unlike a common wedding …
Maria – you may approach”, the last words were said load enough so Maria would hear and step out of the closet.
I understood what I had to do. I met her midway on the floor, went down on one knee, and asked: “Maria – do you want to make me the happiest man, by accepting me, although I am poor and destitute.”
She looked me in the eyes, and blushed, and said
“for better or for worse”, and then she started to cry.

Maria was just fantastic. I was in love with her, and she admitted that she was in love with me. Still she seemed somehow absent-minded, and sullen, despite her strong involvement in the reforms.
"Have I done something wrong?" I asked her.
She denied it. She just said she had problems with her family.
Family can be troublesome- nice when they support you, arseholes when they let you down.
I told her she need not worry that she was not a princess. I told her a short version of my life.
I started with the information of who my parents were. She seemed unruffled, oblivious to the fact that my name was known to most in the Low Countries as my ancestors. Hadn't she noted that the former and the current Stadhouders had greeted me like some long lost friend? I thought it was auspicious when she told she came from Altana, but it turned out it was not the village near the castle Altena where my origins could be found, Altena, where the family originated was near Eindhoven and Breda, but they acquired the county of Hornes just north of Luik/Liege. I suddenly understood. My county was restored to me by the power of Maria's field artillery pieces. They didn't want it falling into the hands of the Habsburg through my older brother.
It was not my great grandfather who was executed on the express order of the duke of Alba. He was a great-great uncle.
About myself... Why did I end up in this war? I am from Brussels. I studied with the the Jesuits, but I felt no calling for entering the holy orders. Maybe this ambivalence runs in the family. I knew Grandpa was Protestant turned Catholic, mostly because it was the only way to keep the family fortune.
"Oh I though you were from Horn north of Amsterdam, in Holland" , interrupted Maria.
“My Horne is in the province of Brabant. Our family's land is mostly in the Spanish Low countries, but also within the Bishopric of Liège. and Philip II of Spain was losing in the north, but was unstoppable in the South. My ancesto accepted the realities and re-joined the Roman faith, otherwise our land would be confiscated.
Father died when I was 8. It was quite a shock,as he had a special bond to me as we had practically the same name. My older brother became my legal guardian. I am sorry to say we are not on the best of terms.
I loved riding and shooting, and in the beginning I found it difficult to learn how to read and write, which earned me a lot of trashing by the fathers. I learned my prayers in Latin, but found it boring.
My brother wanted me to enter the holy orders, but I have no love for those hypocrites, and I am much too fond of riding. Then about three years ago I was practically crippled by a bad fall from the horse. I heard about the miracles of surgery performed in Friesland, so I begged him to send me here. Your sister-in-law performed her miracle, and to skip the recovery phase... I was still in Leeuwarden as the war broke out. I wanted so much to participate.
I was without a horse- until somebody told me the army needed trained officers. Well - I exaggerated my war experience, and I had the right name. My great-grandfather had fought with William the Silent. I used the name of my brother - Eugène Maximilien - as reference, and was relieved they did not require money. I had to provide sword and pistols, which I had, as well as boots and a dashing hat. I had to use the sign-on money to get myself two decent horses. That was how I ended up with van Hornes' regiment of van Zevenhuis' army.”

“Maybe I can win back your ancestral land for you.”
She explained that as an act of state, the county was now in the process to be restore to me personally. The procedure should be easy. Horne was within the bishopric of Liege. The bishop was none other than Maximilian Henry who was Marias prisoner.
***
We had a private wedding. Witnessed by the countess of Orange-Nassau, Greta, and a few other important persons. There was no time for a big feast. The marriage was consummated and said she was happy with the experience. I was about to fall asleep, drained with satisfaction as my semen had practically filled her up. She went out of bed, performed her ablution, and came back to bed with cold feet, even though this was still the month of August. That woke me up.
Maria couldn't sleep, that was obvious. That woke me up, and I insisted she tell me what was wrong. Finally she told me what was on her mind:

"The guy who attacked me, was named Hendrik Verhoeff. originally a silversmith, but ridden with debts. He was released when Gaspar Fagel became prime minister, and was found dead!"
“Did your brother have anything to do with that?”
"Probably not. Paul never had that kind of political clout to make a minister do his bidding. Never mind – that's not evidence it was Paul- I just don't trust him any longer! He betrayed his wife; he betrayed a very close friend, and he seems to have betrayed me by embezzling money from my business. But it may be too easy to blame him for everything. No! Someone much more powerful is behind this. ”

Maria stopped a bit and then continued.
"I recently started to remember thing that happened before we fled from Germany. I remember that I was treated with enormous respect, although I was about 10 years younger than Paul, and a girl, while Paul was treated ... like he was Paul- nothing special. I have the Prince-Archbishop of Cologne as my prisoner, and as you know Horne is part of the bishopric of Liège, so that is why I can almost promise your land back. Anyway I started to make him talk. He was more than desperate to talk after weeks without anyone to talk to.
Did you know he was incognito in Amsterdam in 1667? He was looking for me. He thought that my father was protecting me, by claiming I was a girl, and raising me as if, so I wouldn't be murdered. Like the brother of the king of France. You know – small boys don't get breeches until they are 5 to 7 years old, so it is not easy to tell, but Queen Anne made her son wear dress until he was 14, making it more difficult for would-be assassins to target the right person. Anyway … He didn't find me or Friedrich -that is Paul- there. He is also besotted with alchemy, and thinks I have found the philosophers stone. I think I will keep up some pretence. How else could I have become so rich, so young, in so little time?”

She didn't say much more. Her story didn't make too much sense. But it was so exciting to be near her.
“But why would a Wittelbach try to kill you?”
“Because of my name. Arnsberg were once the counts over Cologne”
It made a bit more sense now. I thought I had married a commoner, and it turned out she was my equal!
"I will follow you and promise to protect you. "
She smiled in return, a wonderful smile with those perfect teeth of hers, and she said
"Oh my Dear! I need mostly protection from myself. In the marshes of the lower Weser, I had to kill two mercenary soldiers while I started unarmed, ... but they were caught unaware"
It certainly was not boring to talk to Maria! I got to see new facets of this gem. But why then declare this a morganatic marriage?
“August – can I ask you a favour?”
“Anything in my power, my love”
“Do you mind moving your hand onto the area where you proud cock has been and then find a little hidden place ...”
She didn't say much more. I think I found the place, she asked me to do it a bit faster, and her breathing was sign enough that my fingers were on the right location.

On the next day there was a reception and ball, as the new Stadhouder was sworn in. Present was a representative of a minor German state. He tried to get the attention of Maria, but got lost as she was now no longer van Zevenhuis, but van Hornes. As he didn't manage to get close to her, as she was on duty with the Countess/stadhouder, like a queen bee by courtiers and other people that wanted to be in good grace with her. As he was about my age, the ingenious diplomat ended up hanging around me. He was trying to sell some kind of peace-settlement whereby the king of France would end up as lord of Egypt. I told Maria about him some days later, and she said:
"O My God! Godtfried Leibnitz was there. Shame! I would have loved to discuss mathematics with him!"
I then told her about his proposal. She laughed outright, and said:
"Poor Leibnitz: A bit full of himself. How on earth would the Sultan accept that his most Christian Majesty (the official title give by the pope to the Kings of France since Clovis) , as the ruler of Egypt. Ludowik knows the difference between a dream as a grandiose scheme and a pipe dream! It is even possible that the French have sent him off to get a feeling on our willingness to bring the war to them. They have to get some kind of honourable settlement before General Raymondo Montecuccoli gets on the scene."
"Do you think he is a spy or an enemy agent?"
"Not very likely, but I assume he is naive; he thinks the best of all people, he very 'positive', and therefore easily manipulated"

*_*_*_* Anna *_*_*_*

The battle of Arnhem was terrible for my nurses, and battle surgeons. Fragments of steel and the Minié rifle bullet creates terrible wounds. In two days they performed almost 2000 surgeries , of which a substantial part was amputations. I got the more difficult cases, and I understood the political priority of healing Louis of Bourbon-Condé, although I could probably have save the lives of ten with the time spent on this very difficult case. Had he been lean like most his soldiers he would have died, but the fragment that had torn up his belly had exposed mostly fat - huge quantities of fat. His kidney was also damaged, but nothing that wouldn't heal.
All too many got treatment too late, and died of sepsis, yet a large number the wounded got antibiotics, and survived.
I followed the VIP prisoners as so many of them needed follow up. And the public relations part is important. The welcome at Scheveningen was astounding. There were people gaping at us all the way to the city centre. I never shared Mike's bad feelings of the city. I thought it looked so fantastic and almost modern compared to so many walled-in places. Ah- it takes time to get used to call her Maria.
When she told me she was married, I was completely stunned, but very happy for her, even a bit jealous. My marriage with Paul was now a joke. I couldn't dream of being near him again. She even told me about her suspicion that he was behind it, when she was almost assassinated in the Hague. But it couldn't be him. At least I thought he was still raising an army in Poland Saxony or Denmark or somewhere. A German merchant from Rostock, informed Lucas, that Paul had been conned in Poland, so he was destitute and without an army. He was the perennial failure.

Maria took me to see inside the buildings of the government. She showed the prison where she was incarcerated for some weeks, even the cell. She took me to see where she was ambushed. Maria even said hello to the pockmarked woman. The one who had probably saved Maria when she signalled that something was very wrong. Her face was like the surface of the moon, and I knew the rest of the body was probably not better. There is little one can do about that. The ugly woman looked at me and said “Solveig”
For at least ten seconds I assumed it was a trick of my hearing, but it was said with the tonality that is so distinctive that it was not said by a Dutch woman.
“Excuse me very much Madam” She said, kind of ashamed.
I looked at her, and saw those eyes – the iris is not affected by scarring.
“Sunniva”
We hugged and cried, and I forgot her current appearances. She was still my big sister.

I was on my way home with my sister, just stopping over in Amsterdam. We spent a peaceful night at the residence in Prinzengracht. The mornig calm was broken, Lucas stormed in and cried “Maria is unwell – symptoms of cholera”.
Full speed back to the Hague, where I found her in bed with her husband, both with severe cramps. The servants had fled the house, one of them never to be found again. Of course it wasn't cholera, and even with my medical knowledge from centuries ahead there was no way I could heal this massive arsenic poisoning. I wept a lot.

Waking up from a dream

The cramps in my intestines still lingered. The headache was intense. It was all quiet around, except for a regular beep-beep. So I opened my eyes. It was in a sterile looking room. Basically what you expect in a hospital. I was not really expecting a modern hospital room, so I was a bit bewildered.. Just then the door opened and a nurse came in. Correction a member of the cleaning staff entered with her trolley. I made a sound, and tried to move my head. She babbled something and ran out of the room, while the instruments said beep beep beep. I managed to lift my hand. It was my hand and still looked different; thinner than I remembered But also thicker than I remembered.
I tried to lift myself a bit up, but I was too weak, and was exhausted by the effort. While recovering the door opens and a platoon of nurses led by some doctors stormed in and took up positions around my bed. Orders went around and obeyed. They spoke strange and yet I understood, but it took a while to decipher. "Welcome back amongst the living" was easy enough to understand, but the female doctor said "willkome" , or was my hearing impaired? Before I could process the rest in my mushy brain I heard her say. "You are at the Catharina Schrader sick house in New Or" I was bewildered. She said sick house, not hospital and that name Catharina Schrader was a name I had heard of, but, I couldn’t quite place. Now I remember. Anna had proposed we sponsor her education.
"You have been comatose for two years”
The nurse opened the curtains and continued her chatter:
“You have had a wonderful view over the North river. It was almost wasted on a comatose patient.”
I was thirsty, and requested some water. The nurse understood, and regulated the IV, and left and came back with a glass and a straw.
When she gave me the water she said “Her is the water”, but I thought she also said “‘ir is de water”. Why did she try to speak to me in Dutch, and it wasn’t quite Dutch. My brain felt all mush.
"I am in New Or?" I managed to stutter through parched lips and throat
"Ja - you are in Niew Orange", and the 'you' she pronounced as a 'ieuw'
By the time I had take a few sips I was exhausted.

I quickly recovered my wits and a few days later I was able to finish the fictional story of a world where the English managed to keep their colonies in North America.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Notes: Some comments received has revealed they did not read the initial chapter where I pointed out that this was a contrafactual story, as it has to be when you send one or several persons back in time. Computer games recreating past battles are also contrafactual, as such. I have tried to show some of the quirks of history.
The changes in the course of “true history” is less important than trying to give a flair of a time when a woman could get away with an indiscretion by claiming her child was brown because of excessive chocolate eating.
The Danish scientist, Ole Rømer, managed to get a indirect measure for the speed of light, but was given the position as chief of Police and Mayor of Copenhagen in 1705. He used all his ingenuity to make life miserable for the prostitutes in the city, but he also started to work on sanitary improvements.
That Philippe of Orleans (brother of Louis the XIV) was a cross-dresser and fond of men, is well documented. His mother made him wear dresses until the age of 14! Still – he managed to be the father of four, and his descendant would eventually become king of France after Napoleon lost power in 1814.
The descendants of Albertine Agnes are still head of state of the Netherlands as that branch of the house of Orange rose to progressively more power, and royal status after the Napoleonic wars.
Catharina Schrader (1656-1746) became an excellent midwife. She would have become a very good MD, given the opportunity.
There was even a real Ambrosius Augustus van Horne at the time ( 1648-1692), but I have just used him here in a pure fiction.
William of Orange may not have planned the murder of the de Witt brothers, but it suited him fine, and he may have known about the plot where Tischelaer accused Cornelis de Witt for planning to murder William.
The Dutch re-took New York in 1673 and for a short period did not call it Niew Amsterdam, but Niew Orange. This seems to be forgotten, but it was all in all a parenthesis in our history anyway. This war did little officially, as the French had to withdraw eventually, and the Dutch and England had to agree to restore the situation before the war, but it broke the impressive evolution of The United Provinces of the Netherlands, ending the golden age, and started a downward path, while England rose to world supremacy.