Paul called Mike over to his house. It was nice to get out of your own sorry flat once in a while, be it that Paul's flat was nicer than Mikes. At least he got it cleaned once a week by someone. Mike's was a mess. He walked with care through the streets. He was careful not to present himself as a target. The streets in this neighbourhood are not save for anyone. Security situation dictated that he had to show his face to the cameras. Anyway Paul pressed the remote door-opener, that allowed Mike to enter. His flat was designed for wheel-chair. All was adapted, but it can't hide the fact that Paul had been mowed down in his prime. That was why Paul as a very active gamer. He could be because he was limited in so many other activities. A paraplegic without work has fewer options.

Two years had passed since Paul was shot down on the campus. Some tried to limit the access to firearms, but ever since the proliferation of 3D printers the law was one thing, and practice was another. Hell! Even Mike had a SMG in my pocket. Down town was unsafe for anyone.
SMG- the Self Made Gun was the bane of security conscious persons. The gun was produced using a 3D printer, the munition was made by using airgun pellets, and the propellant was easy to make with peroxide, and acetone. There had been a multitude of laws passed in various countries to limit the production of guns with a 3D printer, but it was relatively easy to bypass the ROM chip installed for that purpose. Mike, who used to have access to whole professional chemical labs, the production of cartridges was also trivial.

Paul and Mike went a long way back, they met in primary school, subsequently their lives took different paths. Mike remembered him as a bully in school, and a boy keen on wrestling and fighting against other boys in class. Paul was maybe not the best student, but to meet a junky on a Meth high was all required to end up on welfare. Paul got a shot in his spinal column. Now he was paraplegic, without sensations from the waist and down, with consentration problems because of the pain. He had also lost almost everything, including hope. Which made the invitation a bit special, as this time he sounded excited.

Mike used to have a job. He was brilliant as a student hired while doing his Master thesis. got a job from a big chemical company, a career, but then half a year ago he was fired. He had this revolutionary way of producing colour, that was going to revolutionize the dye industry. It turned out the products were unstable. EDTA in the washing-powder would make the colour change erratically , and tensides reacted with the dye and destroyed the synthetic fibres by releasing molecular acids. A brilliant idea turned sour because someone thought they had tested everything. So Mike was fired, for making a useless product, and the company said they had lost millions on starting a production plant.
Mike's job was in the drain, but then he was tempted to make a few illegal substances, but eventually was actually framed for producing illegal alcohol. Got two months. He lost his girl-friend in the process.

Still - Mike had a fully functional body; Paul did not.

"Hi Paul"
"Hi Mike - How are you?"
"Fine - and you?"
"I am all excited. I got a Z-console yesterday delivered, and with my contacts on the Thor network, I have already mod'ed it"
He pointed to the helmets with 3-D goggles, and a gamebox where all the screws had not been put back.
"I read somewhere - maybe slash-dot - that it was dangerous to mod it. There are some guys in Korea that died, and 3 cases of severe dysfunction"
"Not substantiated, and there's this fantastic array of games you get access to - realistic war scenes, I have tried it twice en it was fantastic."
"Oh?"
"When I play, I don't feel the pain. I feel alive. Here's the second helmet."
"I feel a bit honoured that you chose me- I thought you were the leader of the D-town gang"
"Eh! We have a slight disagreement now, and besides I don't have more than one extra."
"How does it work? and what kind of play-engine is behind it?"

"This ChronoChaos game is just amazing!I didn't last long in the two games I tried, and it left me completely exhausted. You get transported into a war and it feels like you are really there!"
"Rules?"
"Dunno! Games from Fortimbras are currently the best, but they have strange ways to calculate who wins. This game is difficult so survival maybe? In the first game I was in a stone-age family group. Got eaten by a big cat before I even understood what it was all about. The rush of adrenalin was like base-jumping"
"So you don't know in what kind of world we end up?", I said while trying to read the two pages of instructions, and disclaimer.
"No! That is part of the challenge"
"Do we know anything about other gamers?"
"No – but there might be a few teams around"

Mike put the helmet on. It was tight, and slightly claustrophobic. He got this feeling he shouldn't have accepted the challenge...

*_*_*_* Mike *_*_*_*
We both got our senses back about the same time. It felt weird, disorientation is just a word that hardly describes the complete loss of the "self". Next to me was a person. He was different. He looked extremely outdated in those woollen clothes, and his face was different, but by elimination and deduction he was Paul. I managed to stutter “Paul - is that you”, at the same time I was irritated that I was wearing a tent.
Paul looked at me while he was scratching his thigh, and he looked at me like a drunken guy. He was squinting as the pale sun was in his face. “Yeah - I guess so!” he said, and said "Who are you?", then suddenly he smiled, and then he tried to suppress a laughter, and then he could no longer contain himself. “You’re a f***ing gal”

I am not a big fan of profanities, but there and then I agree it was called for. And of course that stupid Paul was laughing his head off. "That is what you get for selecting a female persona. This game selected one for you, HA HA HA! Ha ha ha"
This was not funny! I didn't get to any selection of persona. It just started when I pressed ENTER.
I got angry and responded:
"Shut up Paul, Shut Up There was no option to select. The game just started. How do I exit now?"
There was no button to press to get a 'HUD'. I couldn't find any way Obviously I had access to a limited amount of my hosts' memories. What I had ample access to was this person's hunger. The pain in the belly, the feeling of despair. It seemed like Paul had access to a lot more local info, because he could tell we were hiding from some brigands. He said it was kind of an urge to move away from this area.

Paul had a pouch with some strange things he knew was steel, tinder and flint. He even managed to get it burning. We knew it was stupid to light a fire, but sometimes you have no option. Freeze to death was the alternative.
I felt the marauders or whatever that might be hunting us, were our least problem. We could end up dead from starvation. So I put some priority into getting a little bit of food. I was terribly. That horrible dress was itchy. I decided to find out what was wrong, and while Paul tried to fish, I tried to get those clothes off. The dress itself was black wool, open in front down to the navel, but closed with laces, that closed on top. A petticoat of wool was around my waist. Underneath was a white linen shift that was easy to get off over the head. I was stark naked now, and I could see in the dim light that on my pectoral was small swelling areas around the areola, each one of them half the size of a lemon. I knew what it meant, and I knew what the consequence would be. . I put the dress above the small fire to smoke out the vermin. Not very efficient, but better than none. My areola was larger than I was used to, stood slightly out, not bigger than the hated dollar coin, but felt enormous, although they probably would not qualify as size A. I took a dive in the stream. Came up and tried to dry myself. I was still naked when Paul came back without a catch. He was ogling me.
I told him that I had unwanted insects in my clothes, and he took off his coat and shirt for inspection.
"Hey, you've got lice"
"Huh?"
"Those are bites of lice", I said and pointed to a row of red swellings around the lower abdomen.
Even Paul saw the need to get cleaner.
"When we meet other people, I can't go on calling you Mike"
"Why not? Can be short for Michaela."
"I think your name is Maria or something like that. I seem to have some memories of the past"
"If you call me that I will kill you - and that slowly so you don't get out of this game easily"

He was probably right, Maria seemed to trigger something in my brain, but in denial.
Tried to help Paul get some warmth before I undressed. I used the petticoat to dry him. It was wool, and scratchy, and smelly when it got wet, but at least he got some warm. It was probably stupid to light a fire, but we needed some comfort. I went over to some bushes to relieve myself, still naked. I was in no rush to don those vermin infested clothes. I was looking down, and tried to figure out what I looked like. Oh I know, I have learned basic anatomy in Biology, and then I had a short-lived relationship. It felt both exhilarating, and depressing, to feel a new body. I was squatting.

SH*T! somebody was coming.

"You'd better come back here, we have your clothes", one said and laughed. He didn't speak English, but I understood every word, and I didn't translate it, I just understood.
"If you don't come here at once we will kill your husband immediately", the other one said.
"He is not my husband, just a brother", I said as I started to rise, while trying to think.
I noticed the effect of my nakedness on these men. Nobody has ever given me a lecherous look before. Now it gave me the shivers, although the cold air was more than enough. Maybe the belief of being in a realistic computer game made me calm. Could also be a software error that forgot to generate adrenaline when it should. Only one guy was a threat, at least on the short term, otherwise the guy to the right had a pistol, but it was not in his hands, but stuck back across his chest. There was three horses bound together following him, one of them laden with booty.
Paul had explained this game went on until you got killed, so maybe there was a death-wish that made me do what I did. In my hand was a rock, and I was naked, yet I could make it invisible, by making him focus on a defenceless girl, and not see someone desperate enough to do whatever needed to survive.
I was so close I could not miss, and I kept my had slightly behind my body.
"You guys, are expecting to have some fun?"
I was in a suicidal mood. Ready to do whatever. Anyway - what was worse-case scenario ? Get killed , and get thrown out of this stupid computer game. At least a way to get rid of this female persona. I can only explain that I managed to surprise them by my action because I did so in total disregard of my personal safety.
I could see the smile, driven by the blissful idea that was forming in their head, and it was maybe a sinful thought they should have had the time to confess before meeting their maker.
The guy with the pistol came up to me as the other started to tie Paul to a tree. I smiled as I smashed the rock into the side of his head. The skull has a weak area. Just in case that was not enough, I grabbed the knife in his boots, and plunged it in his throat, cutting off air to the larynx, and severing the jugular vein, or the carotid artery. Whatever. There was an abundance of blood, but hardly any sound. The guy taking care of Paul took some time to react. I pulled out the pistol on my victims body, and directed it. The gun looked too authentic with a flint, quite new and yet used to be a replica. There was black powder on the pan. I knew I had to pull the cock back He was totally frozen, but it wouldn't last, so I aimed, and pulled the trigger, and a lead bullet him plain in the guts. O SH*T again the recoil was so strong, it felt like spraining my wrist. The guy was going to need a long time to die. It suddenly dawned on me this was not a game. I had this reaction to this and started to laugh hysterically, while Paul was bound helpless to the tree, and his captor was writhing on the ground. Now - after the facts - I felt adrenalin gush through my body, heightening the heart-rate.

Finally I freed my friend, after letting him curse me. I reminded him that there might be others around. I stood there shivering, and snivelling. I felt stupid, helpless, weak. Paul came with my clothes. They were strangely comforting.
"Pull yourself together Mike, You just killed two full size men, while I was tied and you feel helpless"
"One of them isn't dead yet, and I want to puke"
The guy was still alive He begged me to end his misery. When we were fed-up hearing him wail, Peter went over, and cut his throat.
“I got some points for that one!”
“Paul – this is no computer game. These are human bodies, or they have managed perfect modelling with the pain and weaknesses of the human body”
“No Mike– that is just your perception. The game is very realistic, and adapts to your brain. It said so in the ad.”
“I don't think so. It is just too detailed. Come on – we freeze. Has someone installed an AC in your apartment? The guys there would have raped me if I had lost the fight!”
“It's realistic – I think they have found a way to stimulate the parts of the brain where you feel cold. Even I feel some attraction to your body”
“Are we not brother and sister? In this game I mean!”
“I think so”
"And you want to … You are disgusting! I don't want to be female! I don't want to walk around in a dress while I am in this game"
"You must- as far as I know it is not allowed for women to wear men's clothes. You should probably also wear that cap. As a gentleman I can wear a hat."
I looked in disgust at the white linen wimple. I briefly put it on. Using the lake-water as a mirror, I saw someone that looked like a nun. It had I shivered, and that was not from the cold.
I hated the dress, but I had to wear it against the cold, but then it struck me I'd better secure clothing from the dead bodies. "If I am defined as a boy, then it is possible to pass as a young man" was a natural thought.
The saddlebags had some food, and a few other things.
The bodies were given a shallow grave in the soft bog.

During the night I could see the stars on the firmament, and I said
"They have overdone it. This is a computergame! This is not Earth. The are too many stars and I can't recognize any of the constellations "
"There you see : it is just a computer game. Sleep now"
"But... "
"You found the coins. In the morning look around and see if you can't find healing potions. Shut up and sleep!"

The men's clothes clothes did to not really fit, and the best shirt was ruined because I shot the former owner. I washed as much as possible. Can't waste things. The old linen thing that was almost as long as a dress - I would learn later it was called a shift - but I tucked it around my waist so it worked as a shirt,
"Come on Mike, we can't stay here." Paul said
"You'll be amazed what I find in this washing water," and I showed him the lice and flees. And the shirts got nice and white, although some bloodstain was impossible to wash away. The boots were too big, but that was to be expected. I used some dry grass to fill them up. The breeches now available I chose one made of leather. In one of the saddle bag that had been on the horses we found a dead chicken. It was not too smelly. I roasted it for a long time. In the saddle bag was also a few coins: and a ring. It was small, and fit my finger on my hand.

The inactivity gave me time to think. It gave me also time to probe. Paul wanted to know
"What's it like? I mean - to be a girl? "
"You prick!"
"That is what I have and you not ", he said with a smirk.
He had taken quite a swig from the bottle.
"I can at times manage to forget I am - but it is kind of stupid to have to pull down the pants every time I have to pee, and I am dead scared of being found out"
“Sorry Mike. I had no idea this would happen. I have always come out in male persona, but then then female character was only available in version 0.9, the dropped it in version 1.0, and as you say, there was no selection option, I just selected gremlins”
“Are you sure it didn't say 'siblings' ?”
“Eh Maybe. I'm a bit dyslectic, which was why I was a bad boy in 5th grade- remember?”

We rode off on the second day. It had started to rain in the morning. The hat I wore was at least some protection against the weather. The woollen coats got soggy, weighing half a ton, were smelly like a rutting ram, but managed to keep us dry. Not knowing where to go, we went west. It took days. Half the time we were trying to find our way through a swampy landscape, as the roads were controlled by the soldiers. We had time to talk and discuss together.
“I have only experienced male characters- but then it didn't take long before I was kicked out of the game,” Paul added. "There was this time when I wore full body armour, like in the Middle Ages. I was felt so strong. I had just received my accolade a knight. I felt invincible. I had a big mace in my hand. We were riding towards the enemy. Rabble of pikemen. Then a hail of arrows descended on us, and a wall of pikes met us. I was un-horsed quickly, and then I tripped in the ground full of blood and gore, and I felt a pain in my back, and then I was back in my wheelchair"
"Could be either Battle at Agincourt or maybe Battle of of the Golden spurs at Courtrai or even Sempach, judging from your description. Was there a large lake, and high mountain peaks around?"
"Yes, but I just saw them through some slits of my helmet. Whatever. It was exhilarating, but I was thrown out of the game,and the next one was weird, because I walked in a city and suddenly I was out- the shortest game ever. Right now you helped me set a new personal best!"

The land was cultivated, but the farms were deserted. In some places we could see gored cows, the carcasses left to rot; wanton destruction.
We talked about how I could get away with wearing men's clothes. Yes there are effeminate men, but most men grow muscles and the faces change. Facial hair can be removed, but leaves stubs. I also knew that osteologists can distinguish adult male skulls from adult female on the supraorbital ridge.

Our discussion was interrupted by a sound. A fox? There was a farm. The farm looked deserted, but then there was a new wail. I entered carefully, for fear it might be a trap, and it turned out there was only a farmer, three kids and a wife screaming because she was in labour. The farmer had a hay-fork, ready to skewer me. I told him calmly that he might hurt himself or the family with that. He listened to reason, and I introduced my brother, who was waiting outside. I looked at the wife.
"She seems to be in a bad shape. How long since the contractions started"
"She started last night.", the husband said; his accent difficult to understand, then he looked at me; “Why are you dressing as a boy?”
“We are obviously not exactly welcome in this area” I said. “Difficult to ride in a dress”
"I suppose you are fleeing the Bishop's troops"
"Yes we are. We don't want trouble - that's all"
"Is it because of the bandits that the countryside is almost empty?"
"Yes- us farmers are afraid. The midwife wouldn't come.", he answered, cutting the conversation. “Ah - boy - Could you help her? It is bad luck to have the husband present at a birth!”
There was not much I could do, and I vowed never to get pregnant. At least I could pick the newborn up from the straw, rub the body with some linen, while the baby boy wailed.
We brought in some of the horse-meat we had from the slaughter, and the farmer was grateful. He gave me some clothes that fitted a bit better, and had the advantage for me, of making me look a bit more like a boy.

The farmer recommended moving on. He himself was considering moving to South Africa where a distant cousin had settled. The prince-bishop who claimed these lands was weeding out the protestants, and those that objected to his taxation.

Two days later the landscape changed in a subtle way. The countryside consisted of fields and moors, but there was signs of activity which we had not seen on the first days. The farmers were not so apprehensive of strangers. We passed several small towns. Later we would learn that these towns were of considered to be large.
We continued discussing how I was going to explain my lack of growth. Age was not enough. My initial idea had been to find work as a physician, There certainly was a need for doctors, and with my general knowledge of biology I would be more qualified than most, but we had no medication to give. I also looked too young to be readily accepted as a learned man. I could not explain away years of study, when according to Paul I looked about twelve years old. I needed an excuse to pee like a woman. I came up with this scenario: I was young, and I had lost my reproductive organ in battle, as a drummer. I was a castrati, but not by choice. Paul found no objection to such a scheme.
We were told in a town called Zutphen, that was need for mercenaries but when we tried to enlist, they didn't want me. I felt bad for preventing Paul getting enlisted. So I insisted. They found out I was a girl, and said it was illegal to cross-dress, and to join the army or the navy was unthinkable. I wouldn't say we were punished, but we were run out of the city with sticks, and found ourselves in the mud outside, in a drizzling rain. We lost one horse in the process, but I gained insight into what people were noticing as a clue to gender.

Amsterdam was the only city-name even Paul knew about, and it was welcoming all sorts of strangers, but when we said we wanted to go there they though we were mad. Amsterdam was hit by the plague, and nobody in their right mind wanted to go to there right now.

We remember back in Zwolle where there was two corpses hanging from the gallows on the outside of the town. One was more a skeleton.
"They are lucky ones. Had they been executed in Holland or some city with a University, they would have been autopsied", said Juw ; who saw my eyes lingering to the sorry sight.
"Is it worse to be autopsied?", Paul commented.
"Yes, there is a huge crowd gawking. Costs a lot to attend"
I wanted to ask if he did pay, but didn't want to draw attention, so I let the subject drop.
“Anyway don't go to Amsterdam. They have the plague.”
“Where could we go?”
“Try to set up business in some small town. One without nobles yet, just ambitious small merchants.”
It was on Juw's recommendation we ended later up in Altena.
Juw was a friend of Hein, a brewer who let us find lodging in his house, mostly because he also came from Germany.
We were still inquiring about getting to Amsterdam. Paul had asked, and was looked upon as a lunatic: Amsterdam was in the grips of a plague. the Black death. NO ONE want to Amsterdam. Those who could did flee. "That's what they get for digging in the mud. Miasma from the soggy bottom of the canals. I warned them", said a guy that turned out to be the minister at Groote Kerk.
The same plague hit London, and the rich and well offs fled while the poor had to fight the Great London fire. We also got confirmation of the surrender of Niew Amsterdam.
I said to Paul: “Anyway, I don't think there is a portal there that will bring us back to our time”

There was an announcement of peace. There was a big celebration with free beer.
At least I got to know what date it was, and thus what year. The trick was to ask the same minister of the church about the full date. When he were astounded- I asked innocently :
"I was travelling, and they kept giving me different dates. Wasn't there a calendar reform ... "
"Oh yes - that was done about a century ago here"
"So..."

After getting the date in the Gregorian calendar system, I got back to Paul.
"Paul - it means we are in the united provinces of Netherlands, at a crucial time of their history. They are still fighting their second war with England (not yet Great Britain), and soon there will be the third which almost costs the nations independence. The King of France will offer the maritime cities it to the British"
" How do you know?”
“ As a boy I read the stories of the three musketeers, and the sequels, and then I started to read what I thought was the fourth book, but it turned out The black tulip was not a sequel.”
“And?”
“It was the story of a terrible crime that happened during the third Anglo-Dutch war, which was also the War in Holland, and its aftermath”
“There was a vicious war?”
“Yes – and it was a weird situation where the United Provinces were saved by the Habsburgs entering the war against France."
“So this is quite a different scenario from the previous ones"
"I told you I don't think it is a game as such, but if we are, then we are obviously in the Dutch camp."
"Why? I am a US citizen!"
"The US.of A was not yet made, barely a few colonies, you dummy. You played "Sniper" some years ago both as a Bosniac and a Serb and anyway wasn't your mother claiming genuine Dutch ancestry, claiming to be able to trace her ancestors to the time when New York was New Amsterdam. What was her maiden name again?"
"Schwarts, but that is because of Grand-Pa was from Indiana with a German for-father. The put more emphasis on Grand Ma's WASP roots. She was a Vanderbilt after all. Unfortunately not the billionaire branch” He said with a sting to his words. He must have been teased for being poor.

"That could explain what our quest is. If the cavalry charge you told me about was the battle of Sempach, then you were in the Austrian camp. New game - New challenges! We are from Germany you told me, but obviously we were at odds with German soldiers and we are now in the Republic of the Low Countries, basically what is called Holland, but that is the next province. Remember when we played Code of Honour and Stalingrad on both sides - We have been projected into the Dutch side, and this war is petering out, and the next will not start immediately. That means we have to get weapons and people, and for that we have got to have lots of money"
“Why not aren't we going straight into war now? I mean... the Dutch are are still fighting the English”
“Neither of us are experienced sailors. We wouldn't be hired as captains by the very professional Dutch Navy. As deck hands we are not going to make a difference, and finally I would be outed the first time I have to pee. I assume of course we are in this together.”
"Yes, but how are we going to manage? The job as watchman is not actually well paid.", Paul said.
"At least it pays for shelter", I added
" and very bland food - like salt herring.", Paul added , as he was not very happy with the staple menu.

We moved on till we could go no further because of the Sea. Then we found a village, called Altena, on a small river, which looked peaceful and well administrated. There was no wall, moat or ramparts, unlike the cities that had survived the 80 years long struggle for independence. The road ended here, the shores of the rough seas. Should we try to go further?

We were stopped by the guard. He spoke a language which we understood, though barely. He sent us on to the captain of the watch. We explained that we were brothers, and were refugees, so we sought sanctuary if that was possible. The captain said he appreciated honesty, and if we did not make trouble, we would be OK with the authorities of this town.

The guardsman at the gate recommended a lodging, as if we had much choice. It was not large, and there was more people coming as the market day was tomorrow. So we had to share room - not just Paul and me, it was with 4 other blokes. At least Paul and I could have one bed, and the vicinity of the others kept Paul from straining our friendship. The others were a rough bunch. It was tempting to consider emigrating to somewhere far away. Same as before. Paul spent his money fast. Some of it was spent on throwing dices. He claimed it was money invested in bonding with fellows.

It was nice to get a decent meal, and we started to get information. We had to have an idea of what was expected. We could not go around spending money like some drunk sailor. At least the place did not have prison nor walls around the city.

So we decided to try to make it out in Altena, and as it was necessary to have some contacts, we conformed to the general public and attended church. Religious observance was important to be be accepted, though it was somehow tolerant; all forms of reformed systems were tolerated, Catholics were not reformed, and thus banned, at least from having a public office. You can understand that when they kill those of other faiths in the most vicious way, in a war that lasted 80 years, then the response of the oppressed is of the same kind. But Altena was more a village than a town, everyone was Calvinists, so we ended up with the Calvinists, although I thought they had the most dreary liturgy. No music while singing psalms, no ornamentation. The most irritating thing was that in the weeks after we had been accepted, the minister kept on ranting about "women should obey their men" It felt at times as if he was ogling me. A few times I had to go there without Paul, as he was on guard-duty.
The spin we had decided to take, as I had was the victim of a shooting accident a few years back, a musket-ball had hit my lower-midsection, making some serious damage. It was only necessary to hint at, and then only a few times. Some guys are quite sensitive to what might happen with their testicles. It could explain why my voice didn't break, and the lack of facial hair.
Paul just hinted at it during a long session at the tavern. He said jokingly: "He should probably wear a dress now, since he doesn't have his equipment any more". They laughed although it was no laughing matter and nobody asked more, they just sympathized, some smirked. The spin was credible, it explained why I had to sit and pee, and other things, just in case anybody would notice. None did, but I was scared of being outed. On the other hand, by sowing such a story it made it less obvious I was a girl, and it explained my lack of physical strength. I was also taller than most girls. Eunuchs also get very tall.
At times we had to work as day-labourer, earning a stuiver or two, but I soon discovered they were not happy with my contribution to the task, and only were going to pay half - four duits for "he only does what the girls and women can do" to quote one farmer.
The poor pay for my manual labour was an additional incentive to get my own kind of income, and I have never been more exhausted from that kind of work.

The nights were black, pitch black, except for some flickering torches if any. One night we woke up because we saw light to the west. Actually it was a terrible sight, as a few English men-of-war were destroying a hundred merchant ships, in what the English would call Holm's Bonfire. The sight of all that destruction was also a reminder of how dark the nights were without artificial light. A village was also raided and stuck aflame. In the weeks to come all church services were used to request donation to the poor citizens on those islands. As it happened I had just some weeks before acquired several barrels of whale oil. Whale oil is great in lamps as it gives the best reading light, and I needed to work late. It also burns when it not in a lamp. As the price of the oil soared, I could sell five of them for more than the cost of acquiring all in the first place, and there was a gold coin to give to the needy.

Paul said he should have enlisted. There was a huge demand for sailors, and Paul was considering to enlist.
“This war is NOW! Not in ten years time.” He said.
I asked him if he really wanted to work as a deck-hand on these ships. Life on board was bad. An alternative was to become a marine, a soldier at sea, but that meant living in cramped condition. “It is impossible for a girl to live on a ship and pass as a man” I said. I didn't know it then, but I was wrong, but more of that later, but as a powder-monkey or other position it was only in works of fiction like the story of "Bloody Jacky Faber" that a girl can pass muster .

Two gamers Mike and Paul are trapped in a real-life game that is similar to Europe year 1666-1670. As Mike is stuck in a girls body he has to cross-dress. Women have less rights, and not the least will never be take seriously. Paul has the freedom of trying a social climb by becoming a politician, or a captain in the militia.

**** Mark's narration continues ****
Actually we did fit in relatively fast. We quickly learned the Frisian language called Frys, by the locals, and Dutch was spoken by most persons in more powerful positions. It seemed like Paul and I had spoken some German dialect that had so many common words with Frisian, that we first of all understood what they said were accepted, and as usual -: foreigners ready to learn the local language are more readily accepted. Though they called me te famke as a joke. Whatever - the nickname stuck, at least in this little town, and they never used it in my presence after I demonstrated I spoke a bit of Frys.
We also took work when important things had to be done: like drying up peat to have something to burn in winter, to harvest the grain, or to save some of the boats that were improperly moored when a sudden storm came in August. The latter was maybe an additional reason for accepting us, as Paul saved a local fisherman in the process.

Paul was not too bad when it came to manufacturing small items. I managed to get some copper wire, I managed to make insulator. Together we made the first things that allowed me to achieve my goals. I had this idea I could make chemicals. Historically the chemical industry started off with the need for bleaching and dyes to colour cloth. That had also the advantage that I was not exposed to compete with strong guilds. Altana did not have any guilds, and most cities the dyers guild was weak, and at the mercy of the weavers and drapers. While we were in Zwolle, I sat next to a young guy that turned out to be a paper-maker, apprentice of course. when I saw the quality of his paper the next day, I knew it could be improved by whitening the paper with hydrogen-peroxide and H2O2 has loads of other uses. Paul and I managed to manufacture the small electric generators and electrolysis equipment. We started off in small quantities, and testing the market. I knew I could produce it with relatively small means. A windmill, more correct: a wind-turbine, worked as a generator to make electrolysis. There were so many things I had to make, and we were going to drain our small resources. I didn't have to experiment to understand what I was going to do, and could just concentrate on how to produce things with more primitive means. Four centuries of stored knowledge in my head. Paul could not contribute as much as I wanted, so the best was that he continued to work as a guard, but it was increasingly difficult to keep the job as soldiers were freed from further service.

Two main problems: find a suitable location in town was the main one, and the second was to create a market, in other words: get the masters of the paper-makers to accept such a novel idea. Fortunately there was one who was willing to try, and after the first trial he was convinced. The concentration of Hydrogen Peroxide required for bleaching was reached, and the whole process not too flammable. The bleaching of wool was made with chlorine. I treated batches of wool, and then sold the wool at a much higher value, so our little town soon had a healthy business, which helped the local wool merchants.

We bought a nice tract of marsh and fields just outside the village. Soggy ground that the farmer could not really exploit. It was called Zevenhuis - seven houses because there used to be seven houses there before the smallpox took some of the people there. Then the area was partially reclaimed by the sea. As our name used to be seven something, I don't remember what, it was kind of obvious to take the name of the place. Couldn't take the name “from 21st century”, could we? Paul confirmed that our name used to be “seven-something”, and he wasn't too comfortable about the whole thing, but he got over it.
The water around the place it was brackish, with a very high salt content in the ground. the ground had extremely poor yield. Paul paid two guilders. The gentleman selling thought the price was extremely good. The remaining tenants, “his Boers”, had emigrated to the colonies in South Africa. I had plans to drain quite a lot of the area and reclaim land that way, but that was just plans.
We were almost down to the last penny, when I had enough chemicals to start to sell.
Whiter paper from this town became a good selling item, soon all paper manufacturers in the area were our customers and the price for the secret ingredient was enough to make us well off. I made soda, and chlorine, and chloric acid, and hydrochloric acid, sulphuric acid, and then nitric acid, potassium nitrate and so on. More prosaic was my production of alcohol from potatoes.
I started it up when I got a huge surplus of potatoes to handle. An enthusiastic farmer had produced twelve tons of the potatoes, but to change the eating habit of people takes time, and he was stuck with those potatoes. Potatoes was associated with Spanish occupation, being something they introduced from the new world, but potatoes is a good source for making alcohol. What the general public didn't know was that it is necessary to have enzymes to work on the potatoes, without it, it is next to impossible to make the yeast thrive on the otherwise excellent starch. Oh yes. Starch was a by-product and quite necessary to make the linen cloth stiff, and fashionable, but it was the ability to make liquor from that novelty that was going to make it very popular. This was also ultimately going to have some political implication, because the province of Drenthe where I chose to concentrate the alcohol and starch production was a poor province that had exemption on paying membership-dues to the union. Some years later they would stand on their own, become a full member, and thus shifting the balance of power in the union.

At least it was possible produce "common" things cheaper than what was otherwise available, and that created employment, although it would ultimately irritate some competitors. One guy who was more that grateful for employment was Pieterzoon, a sailor that had been on board the Spieghel during the “four day battle”. He lost both legs to gangrene, caused by wounds inflicted by splits of wood flying around as a cannonball hit the Spieghel. Pieterzoon was a good storyteller, and more than thankful for getting work in spite of his infirmity.
"At least it is more interesting than picking oakum", he said more than once. I have tried picking oakum, and that is a dreary job. It is the kind of job set out to workhouses, and penal institutions as “hard labour”.
When Paul and I marked our second anniversary here, I made a tally. I employed 50 persons personally, and there must be two hundred which ended up with a better outcome - for example as the paper they made and sold was considered better as it was whiter. To some extent I created a shortage of workers on the labour market. I was not very discriminating as to who I employed. I let women have leadership positions if they were up to it. I employed an old Huguenot refugee from France to teach me to write Latin, and French. I wrote French to modern standards, which he considered errors, so a few things had to be unlearned.

My new found wealth was noticed. First of course by the main guards captain, as I bought Paul's contract. I needed Paul to work for me. He was about to be fired anyway as some more experienced candidate who had served in the war. However as a citizen Paul had to do service in the Schuiters - a home-guard type of military service. Normally they would also have me, but I was deemed too small and weak, and I paid my way out of it, by paying more taxes.
Second to notice was the Minister. I increased the tithes I paid regularly. That the same Minster was bigoted was a general problem.
Precisely the fact that I was employing several Remonstrants irritated him.
"Employ a few, Mijnheer Michael" he said, "but do not trust them, the best were if you fired them all"
I was suddenly irritated by the familiar use of my name, as most others had changed to Mijnheer van Zevenhuisen, as I was obviously a wealthy person, and in this land wealth was more important than a name. It turned out I was about to experience my first period, so I was maybe more irritated than needed be.
"But they are good workers, Sir. I will only fire on gross misconduct. We are frail humans, and I should not have to remind YOU who's a pastor of the flock, what Our Master said in Matthew 7:1-3 'Judge not, lest you be judged' "
I am no good at reading that Book, but something is handy to remember, and I soon had an indirect hold on him.
He had a daughter named Els. Her mother, the minister's wife had some disease during pregnancy, probably the rubella , however it was generally accepted that handicapped children are an indication of sins of their fathers. Els was deaf and therefore dumb, and stowed away until I happened to notice her. I offered to take her as a servant. The parents were more than happy as that would imply one mouth less to feed (there were 13 in the household), and while she was a maid two stuiver per month would go to her parents. What I did not tell them was that within a years her wages increased to 48 stuiver per month - that was a full Guilder or Daalder (Yes it is the ancestor of the Dollar), and she could save quickly to a very substantial dowry. She started off as our maid, doing the chores inside the house and now I gave her more important tasks. She was careful, and soon ran quite essential parts of my production, like checking on the production of peroxide. She quickly learned to read and write, which is why I could use her, and I managed to make her speak.
I remember when I invited the Minister and his wife for a meal. They were kind of shocked when I let Els sit at the table.
"I don't ask her to do this very often, but remember she is your daughter- as such I can say that tonight she is a little bit a guest. Then you consider me a bit unconventional - so I will ask Els to say grace before we eat"
It was the first time they heard her speak, and it was a prayer- a fact that the Minister later used in his sermon.

My wealth was public knowledge as I build a house in Amsterdam, on the canal called Princen Grast (modern spelling Prinsen Gracht). The real-estate developer was more than happy to have found a buyer to the piece of land, as thousands had died in the plague. It was the same plague that hit London, but in Amsterdam it was easy to explain the plague as due to the digging of new canals in the bog around the city, releasing 'miasma' and illness. I was not aware of it then, but by owning properties in Amsterdam gave me 'citizenship' in the same city, and as it happened, it was owned 100% my myself. I became a poorter and this would eventually help me later. The only comment by the notary was that I was a bit young, but a substantial donation cleared the legal issues.

While some of the business otherwise was owned and run by the Zevenhuis Brothers, I made certain that “M Zevenhuis” was the owner of enough initiatives, to give me control. For the same reason, I was keeping the alcohol distilleries under my complete ownership. Paul was at the time travelling, so he was not available to co-sign, and it was my idea anyway.

I became known in more circles as I bought a ship. To be a shipowner gave prestige. With a ship I could get timber and ores from more specific places.

I was curious about what made the Minister (who had some good sides) so irritated about the Remonstrants. That branch of Calvinism was even forbidden to build churches, but I still don't understand what all the fuzz was about. Something about predestination. It was all these details about belief and disagreement that convinced me that we were not inside some computer created reality. A computer can simulate good an evil, but not the more irrational thinking that is called religion.

I employed many Remonstrants in the part of my business where I was the full owner. Paul was much more reluctant to be lenient, to say the least, but I was working on building acceptance and mutual trust.

In summary, I was mostly busy making a stinking lot of money, just like most of the patricians of this nation. The strong dyes I produced, were preferred at most courts, adding to the irritation of a dangerous foe living in a country further south. As it was rare, and in high demand, I got a good price for it, and the guild of drapers were happy, as I did not export the product, but helped them line their pockets.

There was a brewery in the town of Zwolle that was run by a German refugee called Hein from Westphalia, and he was difficult to convince to add something to his beer. German beer is chemical free, however his financial position was not good, so he swallowed his pride. We became partners - going Dutch 50/50, I also sponsored a line of export lager beer and added a secret ingredient: small crystals of ascorbic acid; the secret additive to beer, so it would travel better. As a joke I called the beer Little Hein, 'Heineken' and the name stuck. What is done is impossible to undo, still I thought it was regrettable.
A test made on a few trips by the merchantmen was a huge success for that brewery as not only did the beer last longer, but the sailors were in a better shape. The brewer was sure and certain it was because of his better brewing, and I would never tell him the true relationship, between scurvy and C-vitamin deficiency. A mild scurvy gives aches in the body, so no wonder the crews were fit when they kept their health. The ascorbic acid was produced by selecting a strain of yeast, so it was easy to combine it with the production of alcohol from potatoes, in the huge vats required for that.

Similar vats also produced the raw-material for a plastic-like protein that was used in our time for garbage-bags replacing the non- biodegradable plastic. As there was no rubber or plastic competing here I made quite a lot of coating for rain-wear. That was the first product we sold direct, as it was a more like a finished product. Sales was a bit difficult in the beginning. Lots of people are reluctant to change their ways unless they are really convinced that it is a lot better.
Just wished I knew a way to get my maleness back, a vat I could dip in and emerge a man again.

I travelled to Zwolle once in a while and one day noticed that something had changed. It took a while to discover that the highest tower on the large church had burned down. They had a problem. The main place of worship was so busy with religious service that it was difficult to manage There was a discussion on what to do, and I suggested that a separate tower be built - as the Grote Kerk was in constant use. I even gave money, and pledged more for this new tower. At least by not giving it all at once the city's mighty men could not use the money on other excellent projects like lining their own pockets. The guild of brewers contributed also, and this joint effort paved the way for a better cooperation between me, and some of the citizens of here. A kind of friendship grew between us, and the relationship with Hein grew. He married a local woman, and the child he had did not like the stepmother.
Hein trusted me enough to send his daughter Greta to be a maid before he could marry her off. She quickly showed some independence which I appreciated, and she liked to shoot, and hand-to-hand combat, and so on. It turned out she was quite a bit like me.

Before three years was gone we also produced some electronic gadgets; when you know how, it is fairly easy to make fancy electronic things. Graphene was one of the many game changers in the early XXIst century. It took over applications of silicone, and was so much easier to produce. The guys who made the first samples used a pencil and adhesive tape. It was kind of difficult to produce in larger amounts until a breakthrough came. I mentioned it to Paul, and he seemed to be totally uninterested, and without understanding of the implications.

I am constantly astounded by the fact that Paul should know this, but he didn't use his brains. On the other hand he was probing my memory for clues, if I remember my past as a child in Germany. He seemed to dwell more on that past, than I thought was wise. I then discovered he had been smoking hemp. It wasn't tobacco. I suddenly regretted sincerely that I encourage hemp growing by the farmers to improve on the production of rope. I would have to set him to do some serious work.

**** Paul's narration ****
I think Mike was over-rating this game. It was kind of boring. A bit like the much criticised Civ XII where it took ages to build up enough population, and development, and wonders. Still I enjoyed this illusion of walking again. The developers must have made huge strides in creating artificial reality. Some details like the itching after the lice, the midges and the leeches and gnats in the bogs, the hunger and thirst was extremely well rendered, but then I think this game was using building blocks form our memories. Mike had this idea it was more for real. But I give him credit for tenacity. He didn't have much choice, stuck in a female persona. Truth to be told. I had selected the option “Siblings” - there hadn't been that many options, and as it appeared only in two-player mode, I selected that one. It was a joke when I said the option was gremlins.

I was strong, I loved the sensation of using my whole body again. The work we got was manual labour. It was hard work, but it toned my muscles so I would say it paid off. To hold a musket for me was trivial, though I needed a fork to be able to aim with some accuracy. Mike barely could lift the same musket.
"Do you know what I really enjoy with this game?" I said to Mike.
"No"
"It's the fact that I feel so much alive, and it feels like I can walk again."
"But do you still believe it is a game? We have not come across other players, and these feel like real human being with their shortcomings, petty fights, They express hunger and love." Mike said.
"I am sure we will come across some other players. I just wish you did not insist on non-conforming so much"
"Conforming? Do I have have a choice - If they discover I am a girl they will deny me all possibilities to be a major player in the up-coming struggle!"
"Are you so sure it will be like that?"
"Nothing has me me change my mind, Remember how they treated us in Zutphen, Paul!"
In Zutphen they had discovered that Mike was cross dressing.
"But Mike, you are growing, and it will get easier to see your curves"
I shouldn't have said that, I realized much later, as Mike started a very strict regime.

My old mate, Mike, was gullible beyond reason. Mike in his new body was no better. She had bought the notion I had done some studying. I had failed at most things I tried. I even failed when I tried to be accepted in a biker's gang. It was during the initiation that I got shot, and ended up on welfare.

Our town Altana was tiny. It had not existed during the eighty year war for independence. So - although we were foreigners, and would probably be considered so, for a long time Mike's enterprising side was really making a change.

My experience with those games was the following: You team up with someone, acquire points, both individual and as a team, but be ready to team up with other players if necessary. It still irks me that Mike must have thousand points lead, for killing two adversaries single-handed. Whatever - it gives point to practice, and those matchlock muskets were difficult to load, and Mike couldn't handle them, so I assume I got some bonus points there. I was aiming for "upgrade" - that is to "become officer", so I could get points from my men too. I give thanks to Mike for making me aware of the fact that to become officer of a schuterij, you have to be a notable citizen - such as a town-council member or similar. In an established town that would be impossible, but this was a small town, with new ambitions, so there was room for a social climb without bumping anyone out.

So it was kind of normal that I took over the forge. Metallurgy is something that men should know about. The forge was not very large, but then we were producing weapon-grade steel. The raw material came in ingots from many places. Mike even managed to get Manganese and Titanium compounds. She had a trip to Cornwall to get minerals from those mines. She never made a trip there again. The smelter never made a profit due to the cost of making the guns, but big guns were the key to battle. Mike was sceptical about the biggest gun. I even think she put too much emphasis on a general sound economy. In times of war, the economy will collapse anyway.

I tried to reconstruct where we- should I say our bodies- came from. What I came up as a likely origin was East of Cologne. The Augsburg peace of 1648, ended the 30 year war, but the land was hence ruled by the Archbishop of Cologne, who also ruled Liège and Hildesheim, and his acolyte the Bishop of Münster, and they applied the rule of Cuius Regio, eius religio very strict. The Archbishop was bishop of the Roman Catholic church, so all his subject were supposed to be Catholics. We were not - I think. I had some memories of living in a relatively large house, and training with a horse, when some men came and and killed the men. I knew that my father was count von Arnsberg - Siebenbergen. That made me the new count didn't it? I had problems to remember all. It was kind of strange. My memories were hazy. Everyone fawned about Maria... Maria was my sister, whose body Mike was inside. Anyway, we had to flee. What war-parties lead nominally by Tilly and Wallenstein had not managed to ravage, was then totally smashed by the preachers. Not that bishops were known as princes of peace. If Mike remembered right, the Bishop would try to take northern part of the Netherlands, and that fight was going to be a golden opportunity to right the wrongs.

We did not need to work hard now, thanks to the steady income that Mike's wizardry with chemicals. Actually they called 'him' Het Tovenaar, if they didn't call him "te Famke". I don't know if she was aware of that. As a rule the first nickname was prevalent amongst the Dutch speakers, while the second nickname was used by the Frisians, though Mike even fooled me. One night we were on the beech with others to salvage wreckage, I saw her pee standing against the dune. I knew he didn't have the equipment for it, yet I saw her myself standing there in the light of a flickering torch. When we were alone I asked her how? She smiled, and said “A magician never reveals his tricks”. I think enough saw it so the Frisian nickname was never repeated within earshot.

We got access to an area - which was often used by beachcombers to collect shells. Not a popular move, but Mike solved the dilemma of taking away peoples source of livelihood, by hiring those women and girls that were collecting mussels and employing them to make the grenades. They had to learn how to mill brass and steel, but that was not yet considered to be a man's job, and we used the word spinnerij (spinning factory) rather than molen (mill) , so nobody thought it was weird we employed women. Lots of things can be acceptable by the right choice of words.
It took also time to build the right protection, like bunkers where the guns would be tested, and often wrecked as they were over-filled with black powder, or if a bullet jammed in the chamber. I wasn't too happy when Mike suggested we use the name Zevenhuis, picked from the name of the village that was subsiding, and all the cultivated land was unsuited for agriculture. Mainly because it was too similar to Siebenbergen. I was afraid Mike was going to be triggered to remember the name von Arnsberg zu Siebenbergen. Agents of the Prince-bishop could also see the connection, and continue to hunt us down. But the genie was out, so I tried to let it appear as if I didn't care.

I knew we had to appear devote to the mainstream religion. I thus made certain to be present in church on Sundays, even if I had actually better things to do. I already had managed to get some contacts through this outward devotion. Mike tried to avoid it as much as possible. I was reflecting on this game, and knew there was some points and maybe even clues to be gathered even here. I mean – they don't make this detailed scenario just for for the show. The sermon was long, and I almost lost concentration. Mike got herself a secretary and accountant, and she was looking after Mike's money with more care than her own baby. She would not allow me withdraw money from Mike's business. She was going to end her life as a spinster.
I resented a bit this German girl, the daughter of a beer brewer, as got responsibility for the large processing of potatoes, which was used to produce alcohol, but I have to admit she was efficient. For a while the spirits produced formed the largest source of our income, which proves that vice is beneficial for some. Just like gambling generates loads of money for the one who organize the gambling. Then there was the production of protective rain-gear that eventually would be a great source of income, but it started off a bit slow. The advantage from now on was that we had a surplus that was going into the war-chest.
I was also worried about a chancre in my privates.
I was tempted to out Mike, and take over, but on the other hand I didn't want to work day and night like Mike to make guns and ammunition for the war that nobody else believed in. I only knew that war would eventually happen. 'There will be war'. That is a certainty. Meanwhile, life is made to enjoy.

Give Mike credit for being inventive and industrious. She sent me to various places so we could get coal and anthracite, sulphur and tin, iron and copper. It was sometimes interesting, but when I protested she reminded me that I would soon have to raise an army of mercenaries, and I would therefore need contacts.
This village of Altena was nominally under the Count Henry Casimir of Nassau-Dietz, president or Stathouder of Friesland, but that must be quite a burden on a boy not yet a teen-ager, so his mother was the real President of the province. Knowing her opened many doors otherwise sealed by bureaucratic red-tape. I was stuck in Cornwall over Christmas, trying to negotiate a decent deal for tin and anthracite, and when I came back I heard that Mike had been received by the Countess, and had even spent some time at court.
Suddenly what was previously impossible became easy. Countess Albertine Agnes saw the need for an armament industry in the area, and gave her blessing - Most petitioners wanted also some sponsorship of the activity. Mike provided enough capital.
Mike was quite impressive. He started a program to have farmers raise war horses, by sponsoring the owners of mares to have foals. As he said: it takes 3 years before you can mount a foal, and two before it is usable as a warhorse. The deal was that the we paid the non-productive period when a mare could not work, and we paid for half the upkeep of the foal, to end up with half the value. The deals were very good for the farmers, and would lead to a glut in the market in 1672.

Due to the enterprising spirit we showed, and the broad dealings I had with the free farmers, through this deal of raising foals, I was requested to be a 'grietman', a kind of judge and governor. It may also the result of some good impression I made on the regent. It was very tempting. I had to decline, as my detailed knowledge of the law, was not up to the challenge. I think that was the reason Mike was invited to see the countess, together with his accountant, while I was not. Mike must have made a positive impression because she opened several doors that the administration had kept closed. Our tiny port got permission to build a modern shipyard, and what astounded the new-comers was the dry-dock. It was construed on the same thinking as a polder, but with the intent of flooding when the ship was build. I sold the yard to a shipwright, but we kept a large share in the company formed, and it was me that proposed to line the outside of the ship with a copper-plate. Actually I had read about the problem of growth on the ships (yes I did read at least one swashbuckler novel back in school) , particularly in tropical waters. A ships hull covered with barnacles, is affected by a significant drag, compared to the slick surface when it is built, and woodworm threatens any ship. So I remember reading in the book the solution that was used in the XVIIIth century: cover the hull with a copper-plate. It was Mike that came with this solution from our time: a nano technology based pain that works much like an expensive plating at a tenth of the cost of a full copper hull. As soon as the shipowners of the East India company discovered the magic properties of this, they ordered hundreds of barrels of the stuff, but that was much later. Mike purchased an English vessel, the Unity, a prize from the Raid on Medway. It was auctioned off as the Dutch navy could not easily use a ship with such a deep draught. It went into the dry dock to be refitted. It was used a few seasons in the service of the VOC, and then transported some goods from the Baltic.

Some of the women and girls working here were tough, and some of them formed the core of the small women's brigade that Mike wanted to have, just as I did use some from the forge's workforce for the same purpose. The toughest girls were those that once were collecting leeches for healing. They walked through the marches lifting their skirts, and let the blood-suckers get a bite on their body. They were not squeamish. But I don't know why Mike bothered. You just need regiments of men. Men are strong. Men fight. Men command. Women are weak. Women have to obey!
One last comment from me: you note that I use a female pronoun on Mike. She is a woman. I don't understand why they don't see it, and I don't care if Mike is outed at an awkward moment.

"But I could never walk around in a dress" I said.
She looked at me, and suddenly she started to chuckle
"On that point I disagree. You just put on a dress, and if you don't stand out in the crowd it's OK. After a few years you get used to it. It is the peoples reaction that decides. Few have the guts to be different, and stand out of the crowd"
"But the corset is constricting ... We come from a time when at least corsets were only worn by those with a fetish."
"Hmm", Anna said. "Corsets are constricting, but you are wrong about them only be worn by fetishists. Anyone who feels they need a thinner waist without resorting to surgery can try. Have you heard of hold-in underwear?"

***** Greta *****

Good for me that Mike was a nice guy - correction - nice girl. I noticed him as a very frail young boy, but there was something about the way he behaved . I convinced father to provide shelter for these fellow countrymen that were seeking new opportunities here, and father was not a stranger to the plight of people trying to get out of a difficult situation. Mike and Paul went on to seek fortune further on later was their own business, but we kept contact. Father even though I was infatuated in Mike.

I was good with needle and thread, so I fitted the clothes for Mike. He looked absolutely ridiculous in those large clothes gathered from bandits, Mike had the luck of being very tall for a girl, and an alto voice. I would never have managed to pass convincingly as a man, although he had this tale of have lost his manhood in an accident with his brother.
While I fitted him out with more adjusted clothes, we talked, and I got confirmation he and Paul was from my time.

I am convinced we were time-travelling, or alternatively in a parallel multiverse-universe seeded off by events past. Don't know - it was mind-boggling. Leave it to experts to discuss. I just would say that I remember having heard on the news about two students in North America being comatose while playing this computer game with the new brain-attached controls. I watched a documentary multicast on the case. Now they were here- while I had been 9 years around. In which case - causality is certainly violated. The equipment they used was withdrawn from the market. The company said the students had tampered with the circuit. Got nosey myself- I got hold of some the stuff that was being withdrawn, I tried it myself. The games were interesting, but nothing happened until I started to doodle with the circuits. I had read on a blog somewhere that if you changed the capacitor and ... .

I woke up in a little girls body, and that is quite be a bit awkward for an adult, but I was originally old, so it was pure joy to have a fully functional body without arthritis and all those issues one gets sooner or later. In my case it was a bit of Parkinson's compounded by Diabetes II.
Difficult to get Diabetes II here, with such a limited amount of sugar available. I think mother had a feeling I was mad when I asked if we could have some at least. The price of sugar was exorbitant. It wasn't until much later I became aware the the fantastic profits made were the reason from the infamous trade.
I was relatively content with this new body. I was once a very secret cross-dresser, scared of being discovered. Now I could run around with girly clothes, and I would soon discover that the little boys my age were also running around in a dress. They just grew out of the clothes and received an upgrade into trousers, while us girls had to live with those skirts that are not suited for climbing trees, but ideal when you want to pee somewhere, and doesn't want others to see your bum. So my little brother Johannes was also stumbling about, but mostly crawling in his dress. Just a shame I didn't have much clothes to change in. I would have loved to play dress-up. I had exactly one dress, two shifts and one linen cap. During the winter I wore clogs on my feet and a shawl around my shoulders. Those winters were bad. In summer I walked barefoot.
It was not difficult to accept to have parents. They were very gentle compared to other parents. Only the first days I had really a hard time to get used to have a mother again; I called her Mutti and she was nice with me, very patient, and didn't notice my odd behaviour. Actually she was extremely busy, as a housewife, and with a one year old son - my brother, while taking care of her ailing mother and she had so many things going on. So she was grateful for the help she could get.
My father was working a lot too. He was so strong. I compared him to my former self, and though he was shorter than I used to be in my former body - I think, it was difficult to be 100% exact- he was really strong. He carried me as if I were a feather, and in his line of work, heavy-lifting was a necessity. He was a brewer, producing beer from water barley and hops. He had a very good reputation also for producing Altbier.
A brewer has many things to take care of, but father was also making his own casks, thus he was infringing on the coopers trade. What is the issue you could say, but it was an offence, and it forced my father to lose his rights to be a master brewer in the town. Dad swears that he was framed as to the accusation of producing beer which were not according to the purity laws. Guilty or not, he was also sentenced to some hours at the pillory. Not very fun to be a daughter of someone who is ridiculed in public, and though he is a strong man he can not retaliate. But the stiffest sentence was the loss of his work, thus status as master brewer. Thus started terrible years as , we lost our home, we were forced out of town because he could not work there any more. The old story kept on popping up when we found a new town where to start anew. I was so hungry, and I can vouch for my parents as they tried to feed us kids first. Mutti had several miscarriages during this time, and my sister Traudel was born in a ditch, premature, and she died after two nights in the cold.

I assisted during that birth. My father had scrambled off to try to get a midwife, but he had no money to pay that midwife, nor any goods to pawn. Mutti praised me after that, but I did not save my sister. Even to be present is sometimes traumatic, some other times there is no option. I did my best to help, and I did try to save Traudel, as the little one was named, but she only survived the first hours. She was too small, and too weak.

It irked Mutti also that the body of the infant was refused a Christian burial. Not baptised - not a member of the church, and sentenced to eternal damnation according to those with a heart of stone. I was also sad because of this. In the village where the church was located, we stood and and a hole was in the ground, but outside the perimeter that was consecrated. Father had spent some hours to dig, as we could not afford to pay someone to do it.
"Why are they crying" a girl said.
"A young child has died without knowledge of our Lord, Jesus" and elderly man said.
They were very nicely clad; the girl looked like a princess, and I understood there was quite some levels of social status above us. That was the first time I became conscious of this as everyone I was with previously were proximately of the same social class. My "old self" kind of woke up on this because he knew of this, but came from a world where the differences were more blurred, and where even the poorest bum can get a hot shower in a shelter, and get some decent clothes from a charity. I lifted my tear strained eyes and saw also a young man, maybe not yet a teenager - who said:
"They have wrought their misery onto themselves."
He was probably repeating what he had heard others say, and it was common to assume that needy people were in difficulty because of their sins. I noticed his eyes that were cold, hers were warm, and compassionate, although both had blue eyes. The girl tugged at her fathers coat, and she whispered. The father gave her something, and then she went over to me, and gave me the coin - five coins of one schilling. They were made out of silver, and had a head of some guy on one side. The sides were chipped, and uneven. I was far too startled to say something nice beyond an automatic thank you.
"What a waste. Maria, you shouldn't be so soft-hearted" the boy said.
I decided to hide it and use it when it was necessary. I remember the name. It was the name of the Virgin. I dreamed often of that angel, or Disney princess afterwards. The coins helped remind me that I saw something real.

I was about six at the time, as I remember the front teeth were falling out. Momentarily I was afraid it was due to malnutrition, scurvy, but not this time. Weird I knew about malnutrition, but I couldn't remember the name of the disease. I didn't get to use the coin when Johan died. It happened too fast. He got dysentery. I got it too. I felt as if I was dying, Johan did. Hunger and cold are seldom anybody's friends, and it had sapped his strength. As it was during the summer we were not hungry there and then, and I hid the coin in my clothes. I then gave two to my mother and two to my father, keeping the last one. I was so sorry I couldn't have spent them to save my little brother.

I know I proposed for father to emigrate. I tried to tell about a land far west with new opportunities. I was thinking about the Americas. They misunderstood. The land of opportunity for them was the Dutch low countries, and we ended up in Zwolle, near the sea of black brine water, and yet far enough away from the persecution that a bad reputation created.
Father was not very religious, but brought up in the tradition of John Calvin, so we were reasonably welcomed. The country was at war, so a lot of men were needed to fill vacancies. We had entered further south - to avoid the ongoing war between these people and the Bishop of Münster.

Nothing is easy. Father was too proud to be an apprentice or a journeyman to some other brewer, so he tried to set up his own business. That is quite a challenge. He had nothing, and had to get barrels and barley and hops ... Father didn't know about yeast. He had to try making the beer, and hope that the right kind of fungus arrived into his brew, and a few times it went very wrong before it got better. Meanwhile we had to live, so we worked in the peat -fields drying the peat, and digging and piling them in neat stack when rain threatened. The forest in this area was long gone. Peat was the replacement for firewood. So we toiled for hours, and the payment was in peat so we could have a fire going during the winter. Father worked on digging new canals, building dikes, carrying wooden planks to various sites. Mutti was working too, but it is obvious that father was the main bread-earner. Women were paid a third of what men earned. Even I had to work. I was employed at turning the drying bricks of peat before they were piled up in stacks. It was easy, but boring work, and the boys doing this quickly lost interest. I persevered, and was rewarded with praise, yet every girl got the same pay, and all the boys were paid a bit more.

I still had my coin hidden away for a rainy day. It wasn't that it didn't rain here. It rained almost all the time, so it would be kept for a very bad day. Bad days happen, and money will not prevent it. I had hidden it away. A silver coin will not buy you the world, and could only be used once.

We rented some land a mile or so from town where we had a small field of hops and then cabbage- loads of cabbage- , and I had insisted on potatoes, which we put in areas where the other crops would not thrive. With Mother sickly I had to take the lead and, I made preserves. A Korean would call it "kimchi". For my parents I called it “Sauerkraut”.
Mother was pregnant again, and due a month later, but insisted on washing the clothes, because I had other chores to do, and was dead tired. She bade me stir the pot of stew, that was simmering in the chimney.
I woke to cries of disaster. Mother had slipped, and the river shedding its water into the black water sea being larger than usual. Her woollen dress got completely soaked and wet, and no other women were nearby, so nobody could come to her rescue. Her bleak body was on a table and soon to find its place in the muddy ground. I was alone with my father.

Some time before peace was signed, those two young men came, just as we once had, and they spoke German so father helped them, and they needed lodging, and we needed some rent. I must have been about 10 or 12 years old then. They came in, and I almost laughed at the younger, who was wearing hand-me-downs. At least it was so ill-fitting that he looked funny. Mike was the name of the funny looking guy. Paul was already a dashing young man.
So I helped Mike getting something more to his size. He was reluctant to take off too much when I was there, but after I managed to get his outer coat down, by re-doing the stitches. I showed him that he could later undo them, as he grew. Not that he was small. He was at least 4 inches taller than me, but a narrow frame. I gave him some advice on how to look stronger, as he was obviously a bit shy of this. He had such slender hand. Not much work in the fields. Well - mercenaries don't do that. He might be a drummer-boy. .

I overheard then talking, and then I became aware it was not German, but English. Thoughts emerged that they might be English spies. So I listened with my ears to the wall, and that was the way I understood that Mike was a girl. He was actually Paul's sister, and the accent was more American, and ... American English did not yet exist !
I was about to spill the beans - quite literally, and hadn't my father been with them then for quite a while I would have burst in and told everything.
I then heard father say: "I think you better leave and find work somewhere else. Greta seems to be interested in you Mike, and I can not have young men living under my roof with such a situation. She is too young, and while you are fine men, but not yet settled..."

I couldn't help but laugh. Me - interested in Mike; a girl disguised as a boy! I just hoped we could meet again. I played with both girls and boys, but it was often the boys would not play with us, as we were just stupid girls, and we didn't have much time to play either. The games we had were sometimes limited to singing together at the washing place, or a few hours here and there with dolls that looked more like sticks with a ball of wood as head. I played with mine. My best friend was Lieke, daughter of the baker. She had several dolls. I used to dress mine up like this princess called Maria, who had given me a silver coin, or at least I dreamed about it.

One day I heard the terrible news of Englishmen pillaging and burning on West-Terschilling. In my previous life I was British citizen, with some ancestors from Belgium. I now discovered that I was clearly pro-Dutch. The war was so stupid as it was in reality a ploy by the king of England, and the people in power to steal the wealth of the first nation to embrace free-trade, which was good for the rich and reasonable for the less rich, while themselves operated with mercantilisme, which protected the very rich at the expense of the poor.

The event at least woke up memories from my past. I used to be an accountant. Boring person in a boring job. What life I had was partially on the internet, and then I met an old man that had a hobby of making radios, and tuning in on distant radio stations. DX it is called, but the internet made this kind of hobby a thing of the past. The short-wave band was less and less crowded. I thought it was nerdy-cool. My first choice then for education was technical. I did learn to solder some circuits, and some of the theory. Totally useless skill in a pre-industrial world. It was even useless skill in a post-industrial Europe. Work taken over by clever robots or poorly paid workforce in the third world. The old man that had shown me these wonders of the past died. He had at home parts of a telephone central from the XX century, and even gramophones. Despite my interest for electronics, I went to normal school and ended up working as an accountant. You don't have to be creative as an accountant.

How proud they marched the local members of the Schuterij, and particularly the officers. Peace - was signed and it was celebrated as a victory. The signature of the Peace at Breda was hailed as a great victory - or at least thought to be. It coincided with my father being accepted as a master brewer too, and beer was necessary to celebrate, as it was also necessary for everyday life. Where I helped father was to clean the water by using sand-filter and getting the water from the well we dug in the house. We - that is actually I had found that the strain of yeast he had tried was actually two different ones, I managed to isolate the two, and the taste improved greatly. In summary we had enough to get a more normal life, and I was reasonably happy - until that woman saw the opportunity of this widower, without an heir, ( I don't count) and she moved in with her three children, and her mother.

Father would admit later it was the most stupid thing he did - to marry her, and I was unhappy. Oh- she was nice with me while I was necessary. I warned him though, because she sounded false, and she fitted my definition of a psychopath. Just after they married, my relationship with her deteriorated. Our neighbour Vrow Hagenbutten had helped me out when I took on to run the house after my mothers death. She was obviously no longer welcome, as my new mother even tried to prevent me from having any social contacts outside the house. When our social isolation was success, then I was a no good stepdaughter, a Cinderella without any hope of a prince charming to come to the rescue. The psychopathic behaviour was successful until Mike turned up again, with a business proposition to my father. I seized the opportunity to blackmail him a bit.

Mike was very reluctant first: to employ someone to be a servant in an all-male household. He also claimed I was too young.
"I am certain that I will not be the only woman in the household", I said and whispered something more to Mike while father, and that new woman of his, were out of earshot.

We went for a walk, and towards the "Maagjes bolwerk” ( a bastion north of town).
I used the opportunity to show what was new in town - at least that was the official excuse, and we talked. I explained I had noticed Mike was cross-dressing many years ago, but I didn’t mind, and I would not blow any whistle even if she did not accept me. I also let her understand that I understood they were from a different time and so was I, but I’d rather keep a low profile, and I would appreciate if she told no-one about this- same as I assume she would prefer I didn’t inform others about her and her origins to anyone else. This included Paul.
We happened to be standing near the northern edge of town, on Mike hugged me. and said I was the most wonderful person she had met until now, though she did not like to have secrets towards her brother. She asked me what I had been doing in previous life, and I explained what I remembered. Mike needed a secretary. That was obvious, and he needed an accountant. This would be difficult to explain to Father, so the excuse was to have an additional maid. Less explanation, and the result is the same.
Mike also explained that he was making this deal with my father: create a beer that would be particularly useful in the nautical trade: add ascorbic acid to the brew, as it works as an anti-oxidant and gives the sailors a healthy additive, with a longer preservation time. Father had shown willingness to think new before, and he was now quite positive too, particularly as Mike was paying for the development of the lager beer.
There was something familiar about Mike. I discovered that Mike remembered a lot more from the previous life than I did, while he/she had some problems to remember her host's childhood before taking possession of the body. In a way I had a similar experience, but I was so young when it happened, the miracle is maybe more that I remembered anything useful.

I revived a skill I had learned as an oddity when I was a teenager: shorthand. It seems that learnings skills that go into muscles like guitar playing, sewing, and so on stayed a lot better in the transfer. In my previous life, computers were ubiquitous, but I found out that I needed to take more thorough lecture notes. So I learned short-hand notation. It was a skill my grandma showed me the principles of, and I was amazed enough by her skill to want to learn it. Never became very good at it, but this way I could be really useful when dealing with Mike's correspondence, It is strange that I remember better that skill than a lot of stuff from school. Mike memory was seemingly unimpaired, and that was handy when you want to reconstruct modern technology within a pre-industrial society. I remember atomic theory, with electrons in orbit around a nucleus. But that was almost like the end of the story. Mike knew the whole periodic table, and so much more.

That an accountant was required is obvious. The silver coins, the daadler, which are the nominal ancestor of the US dollar, was worth 30 stuivers, but there was also florijn coins worth 28 stuivers and ducats worth worth 50 stuivers, and … it could drive anyone insane. With trade to other countries it was even more complex. Mike showed me how to use an abacus, but I was more than happy when he managed to make something more modern. No wonder he needed an accountant that could be trusted.

As the accountant of Mike's business, I had regular meeting with bankers and merchants. Many had an initial reaction of only wanting to talk to a man - someone who was empowered to make decisions. I was also very young, but so was Mike, and the Dutch didn't have too much prejudice against youth. Admiral Michiel de Ruyter was a musketeer at 15, and raadpensionaris de Witt was 27 when he took the office equivalent of a Prime-minister. So youth was not directly a problem, and no one asked me how old I was. Mike was good at pointing out I was his right hand. They soon learned that I was taking care of lesser issues, and particularly the financial records. Actually they were not misogynous either. The tills of most merchants were looked after by their wives. Even more so when the husband out on a trade mission. What was abnormal, was maybe the amount of money involved without the signature of M. van Zevenhuis, and that I was not even a close relative. But Mike's reputation as a genius, a wizard, and an astute businessman was admired. One guy told me he was most impressed with Mike's first brush with fortune, as he had bought loads of whale fat and oil from the village of West Skylge on Tershilling. A week later, the English burned it, and the price of whale oil had more than tripled, and he was rich!
“But I only bought it because it gave a good reading light” Mike modestly stated.

In my previous life I used to practice shooting. I used to have a high precision air-gun, produced by BSA. Telescopic sight, and all the nice things. I was quite skilled at it. It was confiscated by the police after the SMG guns appeared. There was kits to convert your BB gun into using the propellant, and politicians made it illegal to have BB guns or air-guns in Britain. I have to admit I then had two of them, so the police got the worse and I kept the best, and actually I remember I made my own SMG gun. It was a useless skill here when they have big issues creating straight barrels on a musket. Otherwise Hydrogenperoxide was limited in sales to low concentration, but some wizkid managed to find an easy way to refine it, take about 10 litres of 4.5% peroxide, and get a litre of 70% and the needle in the gun only punches a partial hole in the cartridge, liberating acetone into the peroxide, and with an explosion following. I mentioned it to Mike, and he thanked me for reminding him. He said something about knowing somebody who got nearly killed by that kind weapon.

Mike made a small SMG gun- almost the strength of a very big air-gun, but mainly a toy when the ammunition was small colour-pellets, or even steel darts, as the penetration of a light steel dart is not great. It still was kind of fun to be more accurate at 100 paces than most bloated egos using muskets at 50 paces. Over the next years I would work intensely to make optical sights so I could be accurate at very longer range.

I loved the fabric and the cloth the factories produced. I vowed that as soon I could afford it I would get myself nicer clothes. Under my fathers roof I had little variety. Mother's death had forced me to wear black clothes as much as possible. The white wimple or head-cloth I wore was in the same style as most common women in the town. Vrow Hagenbutten had once helped me to conform, pointing out that “You are now a girl of this town, so you shouldn't stand out and remind people that you were born elsewhere,” she said, and participated in the peer-pressure all girls are subjected to. Altena was so new that it was even easier to be different, and I was an anomaly in a hamlet where girls my age were marriageable. They would have preferred that I was a widow. Widows were women who have done their duty by marrying, and then if it was their destiny, could achieve independence. I was lucky that my father allowed me the freedom to go with Mike. There was an ongoing court-case where a grown woman was denied the right to marry the guy she loved, because she was a minor when they married in secret.

So this was in some ways a very liberal society, and very conservative in some others. Which was why I had figured out it was best to conform, and I always had some kind of cap or kerchief on. Any girl without wasn't dressed.

The United Provinces of the Netherlands was permeated by the Calvinistic view that money was good because it showed that you were in God's Grace. But to use too much on personal luxury was considered bad taste. Still I couldn't resist some temptation. We had a test-batch of cobweb- thin thread that Mike said was really inspired by the chemicals the spider uses to make their spin. I could purchase good cloth, and have tailors and seamstresses make my clothes. I loved it. Leeuwarden may not be the centre of the world, but the alternative for me to get such fineries made was Amsterdam, so I became a regular customer of a tailor and dressmaker in Leeuwarden. It was the capital city as the liege lord of the land prins Hendrik Casimir of Orange, the second of the name. He was however only 10 years old, and his mammy, the countess, was ruler, and actually a very popular one, and even a heroin of the war against Münster.
I was getting a very decent pay by Mike, and I had few expenses, so it was easy to save the daalder. So I went out shopping. Nothing is ready-made, so it was a necessity to use tailors and seamstresses unless you do it yourself. I having a dress made by the same tailor as the Countess used, and by chance she displaced herself that day. There was a hush in the shop of master tailor Jean Perrin, as the door opened. Everyone were prostrating and bowing as she entered, which was a bit awkward for me as I was trying on the dress and it almost fell off.
"I seem to have come at the wrong time, miss", she said.
"It is probably the right time for you, just the wrong timing for me, your grace", I had the wit to answer.
"What a lovely dress-"
"Thank you, your Grace"
I was still awestruck as she was very beautiful,a bit more than 30 years old, a bit overweight, if one uses modern criteria. Perfect shape if one uses current norm, as few people could afford to get fat. As a widow she would have been expected to wear less flamboyant clothes, but she was the countess, and her skin was quite pale, giving here a pale and pink complexion closer to the ideals.
“What a diaphanous material – it looks like silk!” She said.
“Thank you for the praise, yet it is not silk, but produced here in Friesland.” I understood it was going to be necessary to produce a batch for her Grace as a gift.
She then started to inquire about the colours, and I explained by stating I was employed by van Zevenhuis. She was kind of curious
"Mijnheer van Zevenhuis I know about, he is in the steel business, isn't he, but he has obviously lot of money to spend on a pretty lady", she said with a Germanic accent.
I blushed, I was not a whore. Took a deep breath, and I explained calmly that I was taking care of his accounts. I was his secretary, and I was also doing my own business, and I had my father permission to do so.
I couldn't help sigh while saying:
"Why when a girl earns her keep, one assumes she does it without honest work. I keep his accounts and correspondence, an important position for a girl, and it is that trust that is rewarded. Mike is nothing like the bother Paul, who is known to disrespect the 7th commandment"
"I stand corrected", the countess said, to the great consternation of the ladies in waiting that were following her.

[ the order of the Ten Commandments vary. The reformed church has Thou shall not commit adultery as 7th, while many other churches like the catholic has it as the 6th. ]

I get out of the shop after her exit. Master Perrin had to tend to his most important customer, before he could do the corrections necessary on my outfit. Just a shame there were so few opportunities to display the gown, and a shame I didn't have the right shape yet to make it perfect. My bosom was not yet developed enough to give it its magnificence. The nice thing about wearing fantastic clothes is that I was identified as a member of the wealthy class, as long as I did not behave like a tart in which case I would be relegated to the bottom, independent of personal wealth. I had to go out a bit, and show it off. Not many people knew me here in Leeuwarden, and the others be damned. I regretted so much never go out in drag while I male. Now I was a woman, I'd better enjoy it, and live, and I wanted to see the colours in sunlight, and didn't listen to Master Perrin's protests about the dress not being finished.
Outside, I could still see the countess Albertine Agnes . Her grace was constantly greeted by her people, and the guards only tried half heartedly to keep them away. She had her kids there, except the count himself. What was their name again? Amalia and....
"Wilhelmina - what are you doing" It wasn't the countess shouting, but the nanny, a local woman with gigantic boobs. The countess had given birth to Wilhelmina after the death of her husband.
I saw the little girl standing next to a stall selling nuts. The little girls face was turning red, and soon would be turning blue, and I understood what was going on. The stall in the street had been selling roasted nuts. People were closing in so it was getting impossible to see.
"Let me through - I can help", I shouted and people gave me berth, and I shoved the guard off.
In hindsight this might be a lès majesty to come running though the Countess was not a queen, but as good as. Anyway the guard happened to do the right thing, and it could be that the silken dress made a difference. Only persons of importance wore silk. Traditional sumptuary laws prohibited this to commoners. I took the child, turned her upside down, and facing her mother, pressed the diaphragm violently with my fist. The nut was ejected, and the little girl could gasp some air again, I turned her back the right way, and, and then she vomited all over me! Actually it was only the silk petticoat of the dress, but still...
Yuck - I'll never want to have children. I handed the screaming brat back to the nanny, and tried to keep a stiff upper lip, and do a proper curtsy to my liege lady.
At least now I was the talk of the town. The girl with the vomit-stain on her silken petticoat. I walked back to the tailor, who would have to make a few adjustments.

I told Mike about the affair, omitting who the Lady actually was, and we had a good laugh. Mike allowed me to take a loan, and to take more of batch #1 of the cobweb thin fabric, so I could get a new dress, but pointed out "You should have talked to me - it was the wrong shade of blue." and helped pick a new 7 cubits long piece of fine silk. All the ribbons also had to be changed to match. I didn't tell whose child I had saved, and it turned out Mike is not the least interested in gossip. Mike may be female in his current body, but he was a nerd. But bless him; he had a keen eye to select the right hue of blue.

"The Countess of Nassau-Dietz requests the pleasure of receiving Mijnheer Michael van Zevenhuis and Mademoiselle Greta von Dreyer."
Hmm. My dear father was Hein Dreyer, not Hein von Dreyer, but close enough anyway. Exciting to be invited to the "almost royal palace". At least I had something to wear. Paul heard about it later, and was a bit snuffed at not being invited. He had just turned down an offer of civil service. Had he done the wrong political move?

The winter came early, and the canals froze early. Even the inner sea between the islands froze and prevented goods from reaching the cities. Paul had build a boat that broke the ice. How he did it was secret, but he employed 10 strong but blind men, and it kept a shipping lane open, and therefore attracted extra traffic to this otherwise hitherto unknown town. Merchantmen trapped in the ice had to pay to be free of the ice, but Paul would help fishermen pro-bono, which made him popular. The cold was bad, but it was it allowed some sporting activities. It was fun to let the coach take our stuff to Leeuwarden, and Mike and I took our skates, and we skated on the canals. Mike had made some real skates with good fixing to the boot. I cursed at wearing long skirts, that presented a significant resistance to air, almost like a sail, I even tried to use it a a sail as we got to a stretch where we had the wind from behind. All the Dutch that saw this were amazed at the quality of the skates. I only had the skates that were tied to my shoes, but they were made of steel, and we got to destination faster than the coach. Several people recognized me, and I was hailed, and congratulated as I arrived. I did a twirl on my skates, and go even more applause, and then I fell and everyone laughed. I laughed too. Mike still had no clue why they knew of me. I didn't tell.

Not everyone gets invited to celebrate Christmas with the dowager countess and her family, and it was a private thing, at least as private as rulers let it be, but the Countess wanted to thank me for saving her daughter. Yes - let's be honest – her daughter would have died if I didn't intervene. In private the countess asked me what favour she could grant me. I asked her to give me some time to think about it, and it could be I never would need to call the favour.

Meanwhile, Mike was showing some wonders to the children. He had brought phosphorus, Sodium, Potassium, and loads of other stuff. and he made the metal burn in water, and no wonder they called Mike 'the Magician'. Except Wilhelmina, who started to cry when big brother used a hammer to smash at small pellets which were the mixture of Sodium chlorate and sulphur. The same mixture were in the small pellets that were put in the fake pan of the toy-gun Henry Cazimir got as a present.

"He is great with the children," the countess said. "He could be a great father"
"Alas, Your Grace" I said "Mike will never be a father- Just see for yourself: there is no indication of a beard growing"
The countess didn't see the obvious thing, or maybe she did.

*_*_*_* Mike *_*_*_*
“Hey, that's raincoats”, the girl said. Not speaking Dutch, but I understood what she said.
I didn't hear what the bloke answered
I was stunned because she identified the new product immediately. I usually have employees to take care of retail. I am no good at that.
“Excuse me madam!”, I said. “Do you like them?”
“Sorry Sir! I speak not good?”
“Where are you from?”
“We are from Eigersund, We are looking for work”, she said – which I understood quite readily. I had heard those words several times. The United Provinces was the land of milk and honey for people that had the temerity to get out of their servitude. I had not heard of that place, but I understood from her pronunciation it was in Norway. Most people from there were extremely uneducated and provincial. I smiled when I hear the young man's name: Odd
“I might have work for you, if you are suited for the job”
I could see on their faces that they were not sure what I said. The “have work” kindle hope in their eyes. The rest of the sentence was obviously something that meant – not right now, and that was a killer. I could not leave the stall right now, how was I to handle that... I tried in German – that is high German, which not many spoke. That threw a blank. I didn't try low-German, because she would then have understood Dutch, but I tried English. Wow! She spoke English!
“I might have work for you, but it depends on if you are suited for the job”
One second later the thought struck me that they might be spies on behalf of England, but why send kids, and particularly someone who was not fluent in Dutch.
“Oh Please Sir! We desperately need work”, she said. The boy did not understand, so she translated... Obviously not English. Could still be a spy.
I am not a big supporter just giving alms to persons with a work capability. Still they were obviously hungry , so I said.
“Here is a coin. Go to that tavern, the Boar and the Ram, and get some food, and a beer. Don't drink the water. It is probably infected. Even if you have not eaten for a long time, just share a plate- one helping is for a working-man. It is never wise to over-eat, and particularly not after starvation. Come back here when you are done”

Selling is not my strong point. I hate public scrutiny that might expose my gender. In the fine weather it was difficult – even impossible to show off the brilliant idea that my product was. The young sales apprentice came back, so I left the stall, and caught them as they were finishing their food.
“So what's your name, girl?”
“Solveig, and his name is Odd”
“I noticed. Mike Zevenhuis is my name, welcome; and, how did you guys get here?” - I said thinking this town was not exactly the metropolis like Amsterdam.
“We rowed here”
“What? You mean sailed?”
“No – Mr Zevenhuis - rowed – we got a little help from tail-wind, but we rowed”
“From Egersund?”
“No from Stavanger”
“Wow! Listen - I would like to hear your story, and I offer a golden coin for it - that is worth twenty stuiver, or 320 penning. You seem to need the coin, and maybe I can offer you work!”

Their Story started off a bit boring about long winters, and a description of the farm where they grew up. Their father seriously injured, as he was complementing the meagre outcome from the farm with lumberjack for the mill that provided timber, and then Solveig saved him. That was when rumours of witchcraft started. Even worse when she helped people who got ill. Solveig then made the mistake of putting the blame of the foot and mouth epidemics on the tax-collector, who travelled from place to place.
“I only said he was the only-one who could spread it so quickly, and everywhere..”
Anyway – The father knew they would not stand a chance in court. The king may not be so scared of witchcraft as his father, but the judges and civil servants had been appointed by the long dead King Christian IV, so they continued the same policy, for fear the people may no longer fear God.
It seems Solveig's father knew what was her only hope. She was not heavily guarded. There was no escape for a female witch. A man can come alone in a strange place, and be accepted for what he was, but lone women will raise questions. It was therefore impossible to flee, and witches to be burned were shunned by most people. He managed to bribe the guard, Solveig had to put on men's trousers and that put the pursuers off the scent for a while, and got her in the small boat with Odd. A relative in Skudesnes provided food and most important water for the voyage. Four nights and three days he rowed almost relentless when he suddenly collapsed. Solveig said she recognized the symptoms of Angina Pectoris. , and they had to commend the body to the sea.

They didn't have to row the whole way, as they came across some Dutch fishermen about to finish off after some bumper catch of herring, and they were towed down here. It was good old Gysbert that had found them, and thus took them to Altena.

The plan had been to contact their oldest sibling, that had moved to the Netherlands during the war. Sunniva had managed to send a message that she got a position as a servant with a brewer and his wife. It was that message that Solveig had managed to read without having gone to any school, and started the rumours about Solveig having made a pact with the devil, or as they said “Knowing more than the Lord's prayer”. Knowledge is dangerous.

Solveig ended her story, and I kept my promise:
“Here is the Goulden , as promised, for your story”, and then I asked her:
“Miss Solveig – at what University did you learn about Angina Pectoris”
She blushed, and was at a loss for words. I could see she was shaken, but then she was an observant person so she said:
“And at what University did you go mister Zevenhuis, or is it miss?”
It was my turn to blush.

Solveig and Odd were like us, but without any gender swap. Solveig said her name was Anna, and she was almost finished with her medicals studies, and she had played with her nephew Lukas who was 8, when it happened. Which was also why Lukas had adapted perfectly, while the aunt - now twin-sister had had some problems.
I recommended them to change name. Cut the past, and start afresh. There were enough economic refugees from Scandinavia to blend in, though most of them settled in Holland, a whole section of Amsterdam was populated with a mix of Danes, Norwegians, Estonian, Poles, and comparatively few in this remote province. There was just another thing they needed to cover their tracks, not that Dutch people would be too inquisitive, and that was to change their names. It could put possible witch hunters off, and it was actually very common. Odd decided to call himself Lucas Elkwijk. Solveig changed hers to Anna Elkwijk. Almost at once I could put her to work as physician. Her fame grew, but when she tried to formalize her knowledge by applying to the University of Leyden, her application was turned down because it was not written in Latin, and they also presumed about her shortcomings with regard to ancient Greek. On the other hand this did not stop her- as healing was not yet limited to the doctor. I knew that armies usually lost a third of its manpower due to illness, so nobody should say that Anna could not play her part. When trouble started.
"So - why are you dressed in drags? I could never pass as a man. I am a soprano, everyone hears that I am two octaves too high, and I will never be strong enough", Anna asked.
"I am a man in my head, and as a girl I would get nothing done!"
"Yeah, but isn't it a bit difficult to hide, you have quite a male mannerism, but your voice and details in your anatomy betrays you"
"My voice is that of an alto, and can be mistaken for a tenor. Finally I have this cover-story, that I was wounded in my groin. Paul and I agreed on a story where I got shot in the groin when I was younger"
"But isn't that a bit far -fetched. The simple truth lasts longer, as lies get complicated to maintain over time! Yes - you are tall, but not as much as if you were eunuch... "
"But I could never walk around in a dress" I said.
She looked at me, and suddenly she started to chuckle
"On that point I disagree. You just put on a dress, and if you don't stand out in the crowd it's OK. After a few years you get used to it. It is the peoples reaction that decides. Few have the guts to be different, and stand out of the crowd"
"But the corset is constricting ... We come from a time when at least corsets were only worn by those with a fetish."
"Hmm", Anna said. "Corsets are constricting, but you are wrong about them only be worn by fetishists. Anyone who feels they need a thinner waist without resorting to surgery can try. Have you heard of hold-in underwear?"

Later I asked her what part of the anatomy she had noticed, and she pointed out: A less developed 'Adam apple' and thin wrists. She was a doctor in Medicine after all.

Just as we got "home" I got some terrible news. Paul was wounded.
"What's happened?"
"His musket blew up in his face"
Quite literally. Anna began to clean the wounds; remove small pieces of steel from his muscles. I had to produce antiseptics to fight bacteria. His hand was maimed, and full of debris. The local barber-surgeon had said that only amputation could save him. Barber-surgeons were making house-calls to present their services. It reminded me of quacks offering their services to terminally ill cancer patients. Anna was godsend. However the pain that Paul went through was not what he had envisaged.
"I now think this immersion game is not going to be a success" he said after some weeks. "It is far too realistic"
"You remember about a year and a half a year ago, when you complained that this was so boring"
....
Anna was proving her use at once. She managed to pick the small steel-bit out of his hands, and face, and we got the burns disinfected. He was not going to win a beauty pageant after this. His hands were wrapped up. He could eat with the spoon or the fork, but we had to fit it there into the dressing that looked like a boxing glove. He could not even get his trousers down or up.
While I tended him, I discovered he had a chancre on his penis. He tried to hide it.
"What have you got there?"
"I can't show that to a girl"
"About this girl thing ... you know ..., and I am your nurse right now, and Anna is a doctor"
"OK... Do you know what it is?" he asked.
"I am pretty certain. Don't you have something to confess"
He turned purple, so I drove it in:
"You have VD. This is probably Syphilis, although it could be Gonorrhoea. The early symptoms are quite similar, and the way to acquire it is the same. So now tell me who gave it to you."
"It was just a fling"
"Don't procrastinate - tell who you have had sex with"
"She's the daughter of the baker down by the St Nicolaus church in Leeuwarden"
"Do you want to marry her?"
"I can't marry her. She's a slut. Everyone in the city-watch beds her!"
"Then you have to find a way out of this - I can let you meet people with secondary and tertiary level of the disease...."

It is amazing how many details you have to handle in order to create things. A major challenge was also to produce things with a very high degree of accuracy. Screws, bolts nuts, and rivets are all things taken for granted, but was non-existing in a pre-industrial society.

One of the Hugenots fleeing France happened to be a smith versed in the art of casting. His Master had been Jean-Jacques Keller, father of the French system of standardizing the production of cannons. I improved on his system by encasing the gun in a steel-drum - making it stronger. and lighter. Reducing the weight of the barrel was important, as I was about to teach all and everyone that it is not necessary to shoot lead and stone bullets, when it is more efficient to send steel and brass grenades with explosive core, development away from the spherical bullets to the aerodynamic grenades. A major contribution of the Keller system was to drill out of the centre, which makes the path very straight. Full steel guns was not yet possible because of casting technique. A windmill drove the bore At least the diamonds I bought were put to some good use. I did a test against boards of oak , and the new cannon-balls could penetrate 70 inches of oak, and that is without explosives inside. What was not yet clear to the scientific community that momentum and energy was two concepts. Cannonballs do not need to be heavier in order to create more havoc. Tests with non-round balls did fly as the projectiles started to spin and rotate, creating a substantial drag, so it was no success, but then we knew better- didn't we?.
That this Hugenot - du Pont chose to settle in Groningen was going to be the site of production, was fortunate . It was good to provide work for people. I also had to keep a sharp eye on the cost and the yield of all. It would not be good if I went bankrupt before the war broke out. The way I did this was to make a mutual deal with some: they could get a new product to produce, and they would either pay a "rent" or do some production for me. Running on a daily basis factories would steal too much of my precious time.

I have to admit I found time to write a pamphlet criticizing the prime-minister de Witt for living in the past where the United Provinces could trust France. He represented a group of people still believing that France was not going to punish the Netherlands for not supporting him, and for believing that the English and the Swedes were true to the pledge in the Tripple Alliance. A quote from the text later re-used was: “A person can have friends, but countries have only relationships based on mutual interest. Countries don't have friends. There may be friendly relationship between countries for a while, but ever-lasting friendships, never!” Criticism also aimed at the of a one-sided emphasis on naval power - like Perikles of Athens believed in the Navy of Themistocles, while getting in trouble with the Spartans, undoubtedly the best military of its time. I voiced a point of view not a very welcome by the people in power, and it branded me for a while as Orangist. The Union was paying most of the navy's cost, while the army was each province's problem, and the richest provinces on the coast were shielded landwards by the poorer, who could ill afford to build a more professional army. It was maybe this meddling with politics that closed the doors on me when I could help the country the most.
One more frivolous "investment" was when I got acquainted with a German gentleman, or was he Czech? - His name was Carl von Rabenhaupt, and a warrior falling on hard times as 'peace' does not need his kind. I understood he wanted money, and you don't give menial tasks, like a factory job to someone like him. I offered him a few hundred guilders as an advanced payment for his memoirs, and to train the factory-workers - two hours every Saturday at military manoeuvres and shooting with muskets. His eyesight was not good enough to appreciate the range of the rifled guns. He almost refused to train two dozen young women, but he swallowed his pride. These small hand-guns were mere toys, and it was just a hobby, and beggars can't be choosers. He also understood the potential need that women knew how to reload a musket while her husband was busy aiming the muskets. He didn't quite believe me when I pointed out that the Snaphance mechanism took more time to load than with the design I got my weapon-smiths to make.

Speaking about the weapon-smiths - they were also a conservative bunch. They did not want to make much improvements. So Paul and I had to train some guys on our own. One such recruit was a teenager that had run away from his apprenticeship. He turned out all-right, and was willing to produce series of weapons rather than work on a single one for ages.

Anna also took over the responsibility for watching production of the necessary chemicals, so I could concentrate on weapon development. Some of the chemicals were so very relevant for here apothecary. We even had plans for food storage. From what I remembered in history books, over 70% of the Netherlands were going to be under foreign occupation.

"Beware it may not be a game and it is probably about to change. War is likely to start any time soon", I answered, "and I can not fight with a sword or a musket I barely can lift off the ground"
"Yeah that sucks for you", Paul never let go of his street slang.
"Besides I am still not convinced it is a game. There are far too many details"
"I could out you as a cross-dresser if you do that - you would be arrested and pilloried", Lucas said. I pointed first out that pillory was not much used here in the Netherlands.
"The is at least one woman who regularly wears pants, and she is even on good terms with the pope"
I had told him about Christina of Sweden, and how she had to abdicate many years ago, and how she was famous for walking around in pants or short skirt. She did not have to abdicate because she liked to dress up as a man. It was her conversion to catholic faith that forced her to resign.
"It is not forbidden for women to wear trousers - it is just not done. In England you can get pilloried for it, but it is such an intolerant country filled with bigoted people. It gives us just better reasons to fight them if they attack. Let me find you something really useful to do, Lucas"
I found enough money to buy an old schooner. Lucas was not knowledgeable enough about the ship to be a captain, but as a first mate he would do, and I had trained him into stargazing. Meanwhile we had a After his first voyage I would retrofit the Het Sterrenwacht with a carbonfiber mast that was 250 feet tall. which was going to make the Het Sterrenwacht the talk of the town, not only here. Everyone asked me where I had found trees that tall. But she had some secrets below the waterline too - like a keel that could be lowered deep, and allowed her to go more up against the wind, while ballast-tanks of water could move the centre of gravity from one side to the other.
Equipped with a shortwave-radio he would also be able to compute the longitude. For captain I hired a guy that had survived a shipwreck, saved his whole crew, but lost his cargo of rice and spices off the Brittany coast, tricked by some wreckers there. The shipowner was furious for having lost the whole cargo. The captain should have gone down with the ship. Instead he had save the crew. He was destined to be a pauper, with his wife and brood of children. I gave him a second chance.
For some reason I didn't bother to inform Paul that I had build a radio. We quarrelled at the time about the size of his annuity, and he had started to behave in strange ways.
One problem about the Het Sterrenwacht, was that it was getting too heavy with 10 guns. So I provided it with 4 breech-loader. All of them with the same gauge, and with real grenades. Not many- I was a bit strained as to the production of these. normal shot, shrapnel, blanks, and some filled with napalm like product. Always in short supply, but would probably be effective.
I also provided Lucas with a automatic pistol the first made on the SMG design with propellant of Acetone and Hydrogen Peroxide , and off he went, sailing from Rotterdam. First trip to Danzig to fill up with grain, the next would be a a longer expedition.

The tall mast of Het Sterrenwacht got me an appointment with the Navy. But there was a budget crunch, and I was told my masts were far too expensive. There was also an infinite bureaucracy. That I was living most of the time in Friesland did not workin my favour. “Sell your stuff to the Frisian Navy in Harlingen”, was the advice I got. They had just moved, and there was little money for improvements.
About the new naval gun designs, I had to see another office, and the office of naval gun purchase were stuck with their supplier. At least that was the official story.

It was on one of the trips to Leyden and Amsterdam that I met Johannes Hudde for the first time. He was a relatively rich middle aged man with a solid investment in the VOC - the Dutch East-India Company. He was actually willing to invest in one of my gun foundries. He also put me in contact with his professor Thomas van Schooten, who welcomed me as a long lost son. I had just published a small book on the geometry on the sphere. Its origin was the notes I made to teach Paul and Lucas to calculate their position. Relatively simple stuff, and still complicated for those not knowing calculus, so I had some training material in the book. and tables of logarithms, and sinus, and so on. The copyright notice at the bottom contained the following warning: "This work belongs to M.Zevenhuis . It contains some hidden errors. Should you copy it and claim it is yours without finding and correction those mistakes, you are exposed as a fraud." It must be said that there was no mistakes in them. My computer - actually a caculator- had calculated the numbers, and Els had transferred the result to the copperplates that were used by the printers. This book alone made me a fortune, because it was worth its weight in gold for the navigators, and therefore extremely valuable. In the book I had also written.
"The Earth is assumed in this book a perfect sphere, but I have some measurements that indicate some small deviation from that assumption. For the less experienced naturalists I here give a warning. These observations are not disproving that our world is a sphere, close to the shape of the orange . I just point out that the details are a bit more complicated. For those who try a theological argument that God would have created the World a perfect place and therefore a perfect sphere, I would like to point out that he created man with a propensity to sin, and not perfect. A similar situation we have in the celestial realm. The Earth is not the centre of the universe, it has an orbit around the sun which is not quite a circle, it is better described as an ellipse, yet that is probably also just an approximation".

The professor was interested in these observations, and we discussed the accuracy of the methodology. I also explained I was planning to construct a transit instrument. I also had a pamphlet ready to be published on number systems based on any radix, but ending on a recommendation to strengthen the decimal principle, and dividing the main coin of the realm on tens and hundredth of that unit, mainly for accounting purposes. The paper was dedicated to the mightiest person in the republic, the equivalent of prime-minister, raadpensionaris J de Witt, in honour of his intelligence. Professor van Schooten gave me loads of contacts, and I started a correspondence with learned men like Christiaan Huygens and I got an article accepted in Journal des Sçavans, on the trajectory of bullets, and one article in the philosophical transaction of the Royal Society, on the nature of light, and indicating it could be assumed to be of a wave-like nature, which of course Huygens appreciated, as he had already published his work on the subject.
It was with the help of corresponding with Christian Huygens that I got the whereabouts of Baruch Spinoza, as I needed some good lenses for the telescope Lucas was about to get as a gift on his trip, and I also got some good lenses for a microscope, although they were a disappointment in practice. I had to retrofit them to use with my micrometers. Spinoza was the only one who immediately saw through my disguise.
As I paid him a deposit to have the lenses made, he picked up my hand and said.
"Your hands betray your gender. Rest assured that your secret is safe I know myself how difficult it can be to be different, and have to conform. I have read your work on how to calculate positions, and I liked your comment about the perfect yet imperfect shape of the earth". After that I tried as much as possible to wear gloves to hide my dainty hands, as both Anna, and now Mr Spinoza had identified me as such.

The stupidity of the navy not to try my naval guns was the item that made me write a pamphlet about corruption, and the problems it created - be it in the state institutions or any institution. I took the Dutch East-India Company (VOC) as an example, and showed that corruption there was rampant, and would risk the whole business model of that company. I was also writing about the corruption in the Navy, but that was on the verso of the leaflet, and it was not until some time later that I discovered that the printer had only printed the recto, and distributed it.

At least I was at home. I had worked days on the production of new aerodynamic bullets, and lately I had worked at night on a thesis. There was a fire at the Hydrogen Peroxide plant. I was busy etching the copperplates that contained the formulas. Actually I was very much afraid that someone would steal my work (although I pilfering work done 350 years before I was actually born myself) - Everyone was treating me like a child, like a girl. I am not a girl. I had just received a letter from Professor Barrow and his assistant Newton that they did not like my comments on the shape of the earth, and as to my support for the wave-like nature of light it was ridiculous, and most of the work shown in my work was already proven in Lectiones Opticae et Geometricae. The citizens of Leeuwarden were scared of my factories blowing up, just like what happened in Delft in 1654. The dyers in Amsterdam were not happy with a batch of dye. They implied I was malversating them, and I have sharp pains in tummy, probably cancer, and the University of Leyden did not want to accept me giving a doctoral thesis unless I studied in such places, and .

Anna took charge - with Paul's help, I was sedated with Laudanum.

"Mike - You have to face it you are in the body of a girl, that should be more feminine. You can not starve it to death. How old is your body 16 or 17? You must not punish this body for the inevitable development of the body. That is normal in this ages and times - You have got to rest - then I will prescribe a program of regular exercise - and for three months you will not be allowed to work. That's non-negotiable" Anna and Paul talked to me slowly in the haze of sedation. But I was so irritated I had never bothered to read the chapters on how to produce hormone blockers, and how to produce artificial testosterone. It hadn't been necessary then.

Anna was working as a doctor, licensed or not. She was planning on building a hospital, a kind of Sanatorium using the water from the nearby sea. Normally it would be mostly patients with TB or Syphilis or ...
Suddenly I understood that Paul was actually more than patient number one. He and Anna were swimming around naked in the North Sea, enjoying themselves....
At least Paul had the decency to propose. The ugly rumours about her being alone in a house with many men, evaporated. It still felt weird and old-fashioned to marry. Paul asked me to be his "best-man"- probably as an initiative of reconciliation. But I preferred not to sign any legal documents in that respect. I was progressively more worried about being outed, as I knew my fortune was not a perfect protection against misogynistic laws. While not as bad here as in England or France, there was an ongoing legal battle where a woman had married without her family's consent, and her marriage was annulled because she was under-age. I made several provisions to avoid losing control if someone should discover my great deception. I didn't want my 'false' signature- as it would be considered so, if someone signed as a witness, in a place where only men could do so.

Anna looked wonderful in a dress that did cost a fortune. I know, I paid for it. Paul had this nasty habit of spending what he earned.

I also convinced Paul to allow her full professional freedom and to do so , act as a front for her medical activities. He sat now in the newly re-organized University-council, to be there often enough, making it acceptable to have his wife there. .
Got myself a horse, a palfrey, as I had some need for activity. Actually it was a gift from Anna. I also did run twice around my fields on that island every morning to keep fit. I was very aware that my boobs were growing, and I had to keep lean in order to continue being accepted. I was not really accepted in the Schutterij. I didn't insist. I rather trained my own employees. I taught the girls in the the various plants to use the rifle had designed. Actually we started off with airguns. They really laughed at me when I said they would learn to shoot French Catholics
"French soldiers - all the way up here in Friesland - you must be joking"
"If not French, then German Catholics- all ready to rape you", I said wanting to be realistic in the mentality required. Not that long time ago the Prince-Bishop's troop were attacking, so that the troops of Bomben Berendt was attacking, was a realistic scenario.

Anna and Greta were supportive, so they took it seriously, and we managed get a few hundred of them trained on sharpshooting, and then twenty on the field-guns, although all received some experience. It was actually a pre-requisite now for employment in the mills- Some of the younger-ones also learned to ride, and we had some great days camping in the dunes. I showed them the advantage of using sand and sandbags as a protection against bullets.

Whatever … there was something I had to do in Paris. I received a year ago an invitation by Huygens, to submit a doctoral thesis, and would fit nicely in to create a smoke-screen for other activities.

While Mike at last wanted to talk, it was difficult to grasp all the details. As usual he did not always complete the sentences he started, so this is an approximation of some of the conversation:
"I get these strange attraction to men", Mike said.
"You mean that you think you are suddenly homosexual?"
"Yes. While I was in Amsterdam, and tried to get you accepted in the guild of surgeons, you requested that I get you some drugs and products. I met a young apprentice-apothecary, and he looked at me, and I felt faint"
"It wasn't the result of you skipping breakfast?" I said, trying to be funny.
I was almost smiling, but managed to stay serious, as it is weird to see a person with breasts, and a vagina complaining about being sexually attracted to a boy.
"No, I had eaten that day, and I couldn't take my eyes off him, and he was sent away"
This required some time to analyse and Mike was crying - well - like a girl.

*_*_*_* Anna *_*_*_*
It wasn't that easy. I applied for certification as a surgeon to the Guild of Surgeons of Amsterdam. The answer was flourished, but in clear-text it said I was totally unqualified as a surgeon, and as a woman I could only aspire to be a midwife, and even then I would have to prove your skills, and "we" will never accept you. It was signed F. Ruysch Secretary of the Guild.

Fortunately the small community of Altena and vicinity was not important enough to have a surgeon much less a physician! It was not even in Holland, but in Friesland, and Frisian guild was not as strong, and rulings by the Amsterdam lodge of Surgeons did not affect this area. There was going to be a movement towards interdicting me practice in Friesland, but Paul was in the "Vroedschap" of the town, which now was growing in importance. He did build alliances, and it was also very convenient for him that I healed a number of family members of the representatives to the council. One of Pauls' enemies in the council experienced that: Paul denied him access to me when his oldest son was ill, while he had no such problems with one of the others
It was probably un-ethical, but Paul had some cynic sides. What more- he was quite charming, and when he proposed I saw there was a combination of love and convenience. It was a public secret that he had sex with a person who had VD. It was also known that I could cure TB and a hundred of other ailments.

Paul and Mike had these long philosophical discussions on the nature of the game they were in. While Paul was recovering they had one more of them. I heard them discuss it for the evening in a row. There was a recurring argument:
"There are far too many visible stars in the sky. The constellations don't look the same"
Feels strange to witness yet another discussion between two that come to the same wrong conclusion, I was surprised they had not understood that few places in modern world was far enough from electric light.
"You see a night-sky that is not affected by stray-light from civilization. The stars are the same."
They were stunned.
"I was fascinated by star-gazing when I was 9-10 years old", I told them.
"I can show you where to look for the Andromeda galaxy, or the Crab nebula"
Then came the next question: Are we affecting history?
We discussed it almost forever, but the un-escapable argument was that we as individuals would then cease to exist, as somehow one of our ancestors was not going to meet the one they married in the other reality. So this had to be a game we were inside, or a parallel universe, maybe even without a physical connection to ours.

At least I put this former hobby of mine to good use. Mike could produce silver nitrate, so we could make photographs, but the world was probably not ready for that, but it was very useful for other purposes. I suggested we make a star-map, and a star-catalogue that could compete with Nicolas Flamsteed's work, and which he refused to publish - thinking that knowledge was intellectual property. So I made a good reflection telescope - which we used to photograph the nigh-sky, and then I transferred the pictures onto copper-plates with high accuracy. The map of the stars with tables - entitled "Sterrenkaart bij A. Elkwijk, v Zevenhuis" with a subtitle of 'under guidance and supervision by M. Zevenhuis'. That way Mike got most of the credit. I didn't mind to be subordinate.

The silver-nitrate film was put on top of the waxed copper plate. Then with some adjustments I could draw the stars, and that work could be done during daytime, and checking Declination and Right-Ascension of the heavenly objects. Thus in the course of a year, I had enough data to produce the document, and thus make a book which was very useful for navigators.

I was all nervous for the wedding, and the wedding night. I also had qualms about the whole thing. Was I really in love with Paul, or was it just an opportunity to be close to Mike, who I like a lot. Paul was never was willing to discuss deeper feelings with me. He was so eager, and I did what I had to do. We have all our secrets. Secrets we do not share with everyone. Secrets that sometimes only you know, sometimes only family members or very close friends know. In order to preserve it we lie, and I lied.
Lucas was not Lucas or Odd, but Anna, and I was Lukas. We had decided to stick with the lie some time ago. Lucy loved at least to try out to be a boy, and be considered a young man when he got that far. I didn't mind waking up as girl and lose my cock. I was first quite excited about it. I had dressed up, and at one time I had considered becoming a nurse. I realized at the time that I had to separate my desires with reality. I had used my access to medical literature to read a lot about transsexualism.
To play this game was for a short while a dream come true. But again reality catches up. What irritated me without bounds was to be considered a lesser person. First I thought it was because I was in the body of a child, but quickly I discovered the social rules that permeated the society. The differences may seem subtle, but Lucas was allowed to talk back, when I was chastened. My brother was given freedom to roam, and play at an age where I was limited to work and serve.

Why didn't I tell the truth when I discovered that Mike was not an effeminate guy but a girl? First maybe stupidity, then when I was alone with Paul some time after he told me this:
"It was good we were brother and sister, because I would never dream of fucking a person I knew was a guy in his mind, and a girl in body. That is just too gross"

I was attracted to Paul, in spite of his narrow minded attitude. No logic about it. Even when I knew he had VD. The intense blue eyes. That short beard. He was good-looking, like a star from Hollywood. The scar he got wasn't charming, but his other side made up for it. I should have noticed that he was shallow, and … I will not be the last one to fall for looks, and forget the whole picture.
They were so different. Mike was a well of knowledge, even adapting an idea on how to produce antibiotics from bacteria in soil, the technology that saved the population of our world, as the bacteria grew all resistant to penicillin and similar
Paul was the antithesis, and yet sometimes so much the same as Mike. It is possible I fell for Paul because he saw me, while he actually did see me as an opportunity to gain access to important people.
We started our flirt while was recovering, and I was his doctor and nurse at the same time. No wonder we got intimate. He was praising his luck to find a modern qualified doctor in medicine available, but without Mike and Mike's chemical knowledge I couldn't have achieved what I did.
Thanks to Mike we had the stuff to treat him, and hundred of other poor buggers. Mike was the real miracle maker, a true magician, earning his nickname. Remembering how to make basic and advanced chemicals that really did miracles. Already hydrogenperoxyde is a powerful disinfectant, and ether is better than chloroform for general anaesthesia, (the problem is danger of fire/explosion) and then there were these magic tricks; like making glowsticks. With access to large amounts of Nitric acid, you can make photographic plates, mercury fulminates, liquid rocket propellant, nylon and so on. No wonder he was making a fortune faster than he could spend it, but then he was very dedicated to save the United Provinces, and create democracy, out of an oligarchical society.

~o~O~o~

It was a bit of a shock waking up as a girl. Strange, but it wasn't the shock you would expect. I didn't flip out, but Anna did … she was a boy, and that made me do everything to calm the lad. That was when I discovered that it was Anna, and she had become my brother. So much for playing a computer-game with your niece, and selecting the 'siblings' option. I walked more or less in a daze the next days. Mom and Dad noticed we had changed, but didn't have time - Dad was working all day in the fields or at the sawmill that cut the large trees into planks that was shipped to Holland. Mom was busy with the babies, and the best baker in the district. To supplement our meagre subsistence she was hired to come and do the baking.
I had no possibility of wearing trousers, even if I would have wanted to. My brother, formerly my niece, was the only boy in the family, so I had no older sibling to purloin trousers from, and days were so busy from sunrise to sunset that I hardly had time to think about it. Only when the work was very tedious, or the flock of animals was more concentrated, and they didn't stray.

People thought I acted strange, so it was a good thing I was sent off up in the hills and mountains to tend sheep, goats and cows, make butter and cheese, chase away wild animals. It was hard work, and I barely had food. I survived I think by drinking milk primarily, but I also used a trick learned when I worked for the Red Cross in Kenya: the herders there could drink blood from the cows, as well as the milk to supplement their diet.

It was not me drinking blood that started the evil rumours about me. I was very careful when I did it. Surprisingly it was the fact that I milked the cows from the side. A goat you milk by more or less riding it back to front, under your skirt, and hope that the nanny-goat was not about to send droppings in the milk. For some weird reason the cows were also milked from behind, and sometimes with the same accidents, and that is not just small turds that fall down. I did it from the side, and was noticed as someone who did things in strange ways. Only witches would milk a cow that way, I heard when I was arrested later.

I had an older sister Sunniva that took most of the chores at home, then she was hired by a farmer, and I got those tasks in addition to the other tasks. Then she got in trouble with her employer, and that was a serious problem, as Sunniva would be indicted and fined for leaving service at the wrong time of the year. Father managed to talk to some contacts on the boats that bought timber. Dutchmen that needed the timber for shipbuilding in spite of the war going on, and the captain was willing to take her to Holland, and he knew someone who needed a servant. She just had to come on-board last minute after customs clearance.

We got a letter from her in Dutch. She never could read nor write, so she used a town-writer. It stated she was alive and well, working for a brewer. I even managed to read that letter myself. There was a name there. While applying for a license in the medical guild, I did also look for my sister. The problem was that it was some years before and the had been the plague, and there had been building in the area. No trace of her. Nobody remembered her, everybody assumed she was one of the many victims of the bubonic plague. Not even a trace of a brewer with the name similar to the one I read about in the letter.
...
When Lucas and me were included - there was one that became a bit jealous. Els was the caretaker of the home of the two young men, deaf and sometimes mute, and she fancied her position threatened by me. It took a while to get a working relation with her. As Mike was far too busy to continue to give her speech training, beyond what he had done, and Paul didn't have the patience, it fell on me to try to make her control the pitch and some of the sounds. Not easy while I was still learning the language myself.

Setting up a business around healing depends very much on the willingness of patients to come. A bad reputation will kill the income. However as a woman I was more accessible to a special group of persons. Sometimes I was called to help with childbirths. When the birthing process took too long, then the midwife could become too desperate and made someone call me, but I quickly gained a favourable reputation among the midwives as I did not compete with them. I showed them a trick or two, and thereby gained their respect. The mothers felt it natural then later to call me when their kids were ill. When pregnancy goes wrong there is urgency, so the help I could offer was only local. Often the messenger arrived too late. Sometimes there was not much I could do, but armed with antibiotics and herbs that actually work wonders, particularly with puerperal fever. I repaired tears in the vagina after birth. I treated pre-eclampsia cases, with extract from the bark of the willow-tree, and with Epsom salt. I could also lower the death-rate among the smallest ones. Suddenly the infant mortality was drastic reduced, and that was very noticeable in such a small town or village, when it previously had been close to 40%. I treated successfully urethritis amongst women. There were some industrial accidents. A stonemason got his foot crushed. I missed X-ray as a diagnosis tool.
After a while even men came to me with their woes. I tried to have some of the studies made published in Journal des Sçavans but was refused on the grounds it was written by a woman. Jean Gallois, the editor, was adamant, that his paper needed to keep some standards, but when the criteria is what gender the author has, instead of what is written, then the paper does not merit to survive.

But if I felt the strain of being considered less apt, and less responsible, I was more than happy as being a girl and then a woman, and when Paul proposed I was genuinely happy. It was also very convenient, because under the name Zevenhuis I could get a new type of acceptance.

I loved the evenings when Mike and Paul discussed if they were in a game or alternative universe.
"Frank Tipler had this theory that ...", Mike would say.
"I have heard about him, and he died half a century ago, and he is still considered a foney", Paul cut in. I was amazed how he remembered such things, as he seemed oblivious to other knowledge of his previous life; while I had salvaged so much medical knowledge that I could function as a medical doctor.

Before the wedding I spent the time in their residence in Amsterdam. It was important to keep a good reputation, and people who marry do not live under the same roof if they want to be considered honourable. Quite a good real-estate investment. The price of the land doubled and doubled again, and Mike had bought and then sold some sections on Kaisergracht, but he kept the Prinsengracht house. He may not have understood it when he bought it, but to own property in Amsterdam made him respected in circles that didn't care about intellectual achievement. I spent quite some time reading Mike's various works. Some were impressive, some rather dull. I knew the maths behind Tractatus ... He wrote political papers on ethe evil of using slave labour, on the stupidity of granting a long term monopoly of trade. Until now, this had been a kind of pass-time but we were later to use it for the betterment of society. Ever active, Mike wrote articles on the political organisation, and the problem of giving the VOC a monopoly on trade to half the world, in a long-term perspective, and the problem of corruption. Another political pamphlet or small book was on the necessity of improving the defences of the country, and a criticism of the lack of common defence-plan on land. There was one arguing for the need of re-instating the position of Stathouder, and a sharp criticism that in reality Holland's and Zeeland's defence relied on the other provinces represented the landward - so they should be subsidized, as Holland and Zeeland reaped the benefits of the Marine power, and that was financed mainly from a common budget.
Paul had to distance himself from some of this in the Frisian council where he was just a rookie member.

I would say I had a marvellous wedding. All my best nurses, some of whom I think could become genuinely good doctors if they were allowed, were invited. important persons, and young men were also invited. Some declined, but Mike had one of his special shows, and we saw the wonders of science. So everyone that declined then were sorry for not attending. Mike even produced a special batch of dye for the wedding dress, a golden shine - that became the talk of the town, and further away. It was a fantastic gift, and the silk factory making the fabric was located in Bremen, which tied the economy of Bremen closer to ours, and giving a strong support for the Calvinistic protestants, that opposed the re-institution of Catholicism, and the pressure from Lutheran Swedes.
Both Mike and Paul were obviously anti Catholics. If I understood right they were refugees from the persecution of protestants by the Catholic bishops that took power after 1648.

~o~O~o~

Paul had a strange, but wonderful present: he had me admitted to the University of Groningen. It had required some encouragement, a donation to the university, and it was later said that the rector thought he was accepting Mike, and Paul is supposed to have said
"Do you think you get more a man by rejecting Anna?"

I have to admit I was a bit weak on the Latin grammar, and so bad in ancient Greek. Modern medical curriculum does not require a very advanced knowledge of these things. Paul helped me by sponsoring a tutor on that subject. There was quite a stir in the student body when I attended, but I could quickly show that I was more than capable, and soon I could shine. the professor let me expand on the growth of stones in the kidney, and the relationship to gout. Gout becoming an increasing problem among the wealthy, particularly noble men so its treatment was very lucrative. Then there was these antibiotics he provided me with. The recipes for the production of these was top-secret as it was a very strategic advantage. Mike said that it might not be used actively for the political gains of the Netherlands, but he wanted medical knowledge to instigate equity between genders.

On my way to the University of Groeningen, I once met a young girl - she was about 14. She stopped me
"Excuse me Madam; may I ask a question?"
"Yes dear"
“You are the woman that is studying to become a physician?”
I felt I was a bit renown.
"How do you get to the University?"
She spoke with a strong German accent. I understood she meant how to be admitted.
"What is your name, dear?"
"Catharina Schrader, Madam"
"Well my dear Catharina- it will probably require lot of hard work, and even more luck. Why do you ask?"
"We have just fled Germany, and are planning to move to Leiden, but I heard from the others that you are studying to become a physician, and I want to do the same. I want so much to heal people from all kind of diseases"
"So I do, but let's face it, the world will probably never be fair to the fairer sex, and you will need more that the average good fortune to access one of these places he men jealously guard against women. Try to convince your father to let you educate yourself, you must learn at least Latin and maybe some basic Greek. You are welcome to inform me how things are going. When the day comes, I could maybe make a difference between gaining access, or being denied access, but you have to qualify yourself"
I could see hope, but she was also resigned as I think she knew what a woman's lot was. Most likely she would marry, have kids, and die without leaving a lasting impact in history.

I also practised in Leeuwarden, and Heerenveen of course, as my local fame grew, while the guild of gentlemen surgeons in more well-known locations kept on denying my existence. The reputation of the academy in Groningen was about to explode, as this was the place to have serious surgery done, after I trained a dozen nurses into administrating ether-vapour - giving the surgeons time to perform excellent jobs. I did show that when sedated with ether it was easy to perform surgery on a scale not possible by the other surgeons. The actual substance was a trade-secret. A major area of surgery was the treatment of stones. Kidney stone is incredibly painful, and people were not squeamish about the post-op pain, the miracle was to sleep through it, and just have a scar, which even women did not complain about as they were not about to go around half naked. The nurses I trained became known as anaesthetist, and it was deemed a suitable ward type of job, as it did not interfere with the more "serious" surgeons job.

I soon discovered I was pregnant. Paul was proud. He talked about postponing the trip across Germany and Poland to recruit. He did postpone it. There were some challenges of political nature. How do you raise an army on foreign soil? Mike said money would probably fix the issues.

I was worried about Mike. "He" kept a very strict diet. In order to hide his gender, he had to keep very thin, and in addition he avoided the monthly flows, which I had accepted, and actually liked, now that I enjoyed Paul. There was no doubt in my mid he was developing Anorexia. However how do you treat a "family member"? Everything you say with the best of intention may be twisted back. I tried several times, and most of them with quite vicious discussions. When Mike collapsed it was my job to patch him/her up. That was quite a challenge. Mike was not not happy in his "borrowed" body. I think he would have developed hormone blockers and synthetic testosterone if he could do that, but that was still outside his capabilities. No amount of psychiatric treatment can make someone truly accept that your body is not how you see yourself. Mike was working himself to death, and also starving his body.

While Mike at last wanted to talk, it was difficult to grasp all the details. As usual he did not always complete the sentences he started, so this is an approximation of some of the conversation:
"I get these strange attraction to men", Mike said.
"You mean that you think you are suddenly homosexual?"
"Yes. When I was in Amsterdam, and tried to get you accepted in the guild of surgeons, I met a young apprentice-apothecary, and he looked at me, and I felt faint"
"It wasn't the result of you skipping breakfast?" I said, trying to be funny.
I was almost smiling, but managed to stay serious, as it is weird to see a person with breasts, and a vagina complaining about being sexually attracted to a boy.
"No, I had eaten that day, and I couldn't take my eyes off him, and he was sent away"
This required some time to analyse and Mike was crying - well - like a girl.

So Mike was completely confused. He was struggling with daemons he had created himself. Maybe that could be cured?
"You told me ... - that you occupy the body of Paul's sister - her name was ... Maria?"
"Y..Yes"- Mike was still sobbing.
"So ... Is it possible that you as Mike , you are heterosexual male, and ... your brain - that originally belonged to Maria ... is also heterosexual"
I could see I had given him a bait that was an intellectual challenge, and I continued by saying: "Would it be possible than that Maria's brain sometimes takes over. You are now experiencing the conflict between your own brain-pattern and Maria's - and may I warn you..."
I needed to catch my breath before I said the following:
"All evidence in psychology- as little evidence here actually is, and not just a general opinion elevated to science because it is said by someone with authority, indicates that the primitive brain is sexually oriented, and impossible to over-rule by social convenience, prayers, Voodoo and well-wishing. It is possible we are just in a computer-game, but I think this is something more like time-travel, and anyway we have to play the game when it is there, or die. My guess is - and it is only a guess - that you are a 'straight' woman. But - I think you have to figure out who you are - and if you are really Maria, then that part of you will eventually win, you must accept it or loose your mind."

Mike took some time to answer.
“Could be - I am not ready to accept it yet. So please consider me still male”
I respect that, and therefore I use male pronouns for Mike.

In the process of making Mike at least accept life, I decided to take his attention off the things that worried him. He was adamant about being referred to in male terms. I think he needed a hobby to make him forget the gigantic task he had assumed. My work as a surgeon and doctor gave me a separate income, so I could buy two riding horses. Mike rode in trousers, and astride as a man, while I actually enjoyed riding with a side-saddle. One day he even was willing to try side-saddle. "Never again" was his reaction, as he strived gain the right balance. I felt as if my main job was to give Mike a new purpose, something more than saving a country facing a terrible foe. For several years he was so focused on the one task that he had not laughed at life. I was tempted to tell him about myself, but a secret is a secret, and there was also the case of keeping my "brother's” secret a secret.

I even made Mike try on a dress, stressing that it was voluntary, and it wasn't that dangerous. He didn't dare try, as he was scared of being discovered. But with more food he started to get menses...

When expecting a baby it is wonderful to have a hot water bath. It relieves the ache in the back, and brings sunshine to grey days. Mike hadn't had a complete dip in water since - yes since his first day here. Oh , he was clean- he cleaned himself, but with a wet towel. I asked Els provide more hot water. Good we had a very large stock of peat to boil the water. Mike even helped with the cooking, which was considered a very feminine task. I had to coax him into accepting to help us, as it could blow his cover.
Els found out about Mike, one evening he washed himself, and she entered because the door was not locked. A little bit shocked, and at the same time not really surprised, while I explained he was a she. At least she now understood why Mike was immune to her charms. We laughed a bit about it, although it was tragic, in many ways. Although Els would not gossip, for obvious reasons, it was more and more apparent that Mike's days as acknowledged male was nearing an end, and that he would have to come out one day or another. Paul had sworn an oath to never divulge the situation. Greta knew, and kept quiet about it, but more and more people would eventually notice.

I don't know if I said and did the right thing for Mike/Maria. At least there is no doubt that I was a woman. The fear of pain. Fear of death even, as childbirth is statistically the most dangerous thing women can experience in the year 1671. Yet there was that wonder of creating a new life. My belly was protruding, a week later I went into labour. Few women here were more knowledgeable about births than me at this age and time, and I can say knowledge is no help. Actually it made it worse. Paul was absent, still in Germany somewhere. I was worried, knowing all things that can go wrong. I had a long and painful period, but I experienced the many miracles that a birth often is. Afterwards all the pain was forgotten with the little boy in my arms. William Michael Cornelis weighed almost 10 Frisian pound, and was a Frisian foot and 10 inches long. A large and vigorous baby, and I discovered I loved the little brat with feelings that I didn't know I had in me.

Mike was curious about the little boy. I needed help anyway. With Paul away , it was only natural that “uncle Mike” carried the wailing monster as he needed to belch. He looked at me while I fed the hungry child. We were both fascinated by the fountain of milk spewing from my nipples. I sometimes felt like a cow; probably postnatal depression. I sometimes felt great.

Mike took charge of training the female volunteers that I had trained before my belly got in the way. He insisted on teaching them basic survival techniques- hand-to-hand combat, and he wrote a poem to them in Frys, which went to a tune that I knew was not Mike's- but it was all new to them here. Mike was also not so sure this was a game. He said the consequences of the conjecture was mind-boggling. The few times we discussed this without Paul's presence was more fruitful as Paul always cut the discussion to force his opinion. Typical male behaviour. But then Paul was the only one who tried the modified game console several times. We would change history, although I proposed we were in a space-time that spawned off whatever we called the "main" branch, but there would be no way to determine what the main branch was.
"Then history could become a true science - as multiple scenarios could be evaluated, in stead of just analysis of what happened for which reasons", said Mike, as he explained Frank Tiplers theory without getting interrupted by Paul.
Anyway - Mike liked to play, and he made ten paint-ball BB-guns. In that respect he was still a boy. One type of BB gun took about as long to load as a musket. Everyone that played the game saw the advantage of the automatic loading of the cartridge, and the necessity for the gamers to stand further apart than standard military tactics dictated. So - the musket version was a punishment, as the one handling the musket would be hit by hundred coloured pellets. . Mike kept his clothes on, but he was accepted as one of the girls, and they had really a good time. Yet he was always pondering issues. His male mind was working overtime to solve the issue of strengthening the hull of naval vessels while helping out cleaning and peeled carrots, which was a new kind of vegetable in Europe. He stood there and peeled, and then suddenly shouted “Eureka” as another Archimedes.

Paul told me he had seen Mike pee standing in public. Having seen what Mike looked like down there that sounded like a direct lie. I asked Mike about it, and he smiled: “Paul has never heard of a FUD- Female Urinating Device”, and he pulled out from the coat a scoop-shaped thing. “This is said and shown under patient-doctor confidentiality”

I take responsibility for giving Mike the idea that he could stomp on misogynous attitudes by anticipating work by great minds.
"We could try out a What if scenario - for example What if Isaac Newton was a woman ... "
It was one of those thoughts that sprang to our mind when we chatted and were having fun. I think it was Mike that said it, although I was of a like mind, and we laughed, but the idea seemed to give him a new purpose. After all - Isac Newton was not "all" creativity, and some of his work would have been discovered by others like Leibnitz if he hadn't done it a bit before. Steve Jobs is supposed to have said that "creativity is just connecting things", and this scientific progress was in the air at the time.

Spurred by this, Mike finished the Tractatus Mathematica , and had it printed in Amsterdam.
I also tried to contribute. I made the corrections that always pop up when someone writes alone.
I was inspired enough to publish a rather short document by "A. Zevenhuis" referring to the work of Nicolaes Tulp (The most famous surgeon in Amsterdam), showing the terrible effect of tobacco smoking on the lungs, and I advocated banning tobacco. Not a trivial matter as there was a lot of money in the tobacco industry.

Always active also on some political arguments Mike had another small book printed with a demand of democratic reforms within each province, and a sharp criticism of slavery in the colonies. "He" even stated that equal rights for all men, including women, was a necessity for the progress of the nation. Then there was preparation for a doctorate thesis on light and one on gravity. When I pointed out that he was leap-frogging Isaac Newton, he said that that was only fair, as Isaac Newton is notoriously slow in publishing his ideas. He claimed to have his ideas on gravitation from the period when he fled London because of the plague in 1666. He could have published it all, by now, but NO – Isaac Newton had to ruminate.
It was the work of numerous other giant in science that made it possible to produce the chemicals, like smokeless powder, dynamite and triethylaluminium. It was the result of others that we now were producing repeating rifles, and fibreglass masts, and it was based on the learnings from numerous wars, we were training an army of civilian fighters- both men and women.
"In the broad scheme of things, I don't see the difference between reaching new heights by standing on the shoulders of a giant, or many thousand Lilliputians."

From prognosis of doom for the respect of the academic institution, the University of Groningen actually became the place to be if you had a serious ailment. While Mike was in France I think I performed a hundred operations. I had made a deal: I kept the secret of anaesthesia, but let the professors and learned colleagues operate, giving them credit, as four-five nurses that were in a way female doctors in training took care of the pain, and the aseptic conditions. One rule I had- which was absolute was that all instruments - knives, needles, retractors were to be boiled. The statistics of survival from the ordeal that an operation entailed was telling it was the right thing to do, and I got a cut from every operation, be they dental or more advanced, making it a very good income. An other area I became a reference was in treating troubled minds. There was particularly large amount of inquiries by families with girls believing they were boys. While I didn't cure them, I put them into our service

Just after Mike left for Paris, Paul came home. In a momentary good mood he had news to tell about his past. During undercover operations in an area called Walden, he had met a man that brought some memories back. The man who had once been a falconer knew that Paulus and Maria were the children of Graf von Arnsberg zu Siebenbergen. A nobleman impoverished as his lands were at the mercy of Tilly's troops, had during a period been one of the leaders in the resistance to the Bishop of Munster, in the Walden area. Graf von Arnsberg was murdered, and the whereabouts of his family was unknown. There were so few survivors of the religious cleansing in the area, so this was a chance encounter. Paul requested that I should never mention this to Mike, as he thought it may have been the traumatic experience at the time that made it difficult for Mike to remember his Hosts' memories.

Paul was celebrating and got drunk. I should have stopped him. I learned the hard way that men who drink can change personality.

"I see you are not armed, and unfortunately you have to have a weapon to gain access to Versailles", de Guirec said.
"Sorry?"
"You may not be of noble birth, but in order to gain access to the court of his majesty, you have to give the impression of being one. Appearances is everything."
"And?"
"You must have a sword. Unless you wear a dress", he said, which left me a bit flustered. I could feel the heat coming up in my cheeks.
For a second I thought he had seen I was not a man. I had done everything to look right. High heeled shoes, white stocking, frilly shirt. Thick layer of facial cream, and rouge on the cheeks.
"You know - the member of the clergy don't have to. You obviously didn't bring one, but the booth over there has some swords for hire", he added.
I was still dazed for several reasons. I thought the booth was for tickets, postcards and souvenirs!

*_*_*_* Mike *_*_*_*

Around Paris was a wall but sometimes not worth calling that. It was more a fence to direct goods through the gates where the tolls were imposed. It may have been exorbitant or not, but toll paid by the poor, made them even poorer. The house located where there later was going to be a hamam and a mosque, was actually a gate through the wooden wall. Thus it was fairly easy to get out of town for a single person, and I had a skilled guide in Tourette, one of those street-urchins called orphans that scavenge on the streets of Le Marais. There is a lot of talk of honour among thieves. I don't know. I could have felt safer, but I had this other ace: I was owed a favour from La Calle, the current king of “La Cour Des Miracles”, the somewhat fantastic name of the Parisian underworld.

Sneaking out of Paris stood in sharp contrast to my grand arrival many weeks ago, on board the “de Tulp”. The yacht was going to sink in the river, as it exploded when the kings guard boarded it. The secret they coveted was however on its way already weeks ago, to the Netherlands, safely safely hidden with some of the sumptuous garments I had begun to order as soon as I arrived. The kings minister of finance had said : "Fashion is to France, what the Peruvian Gold is to Spain", and they had so many people working on making fantastic things. Little did he know that copies the most secret of all state secrets was shipped out of the country inside small dolls representing the finest of what French Haute-Couture could imagine, and crates of clothes.

The irony in this was that I made my mistake when getting the original documents back to its location in the Louvre. The theft of “Le traité de Madame”, when discovered would easily be covered-up by denying the facts, and changing the plans. Fortunately by then the document was back in the safe. The way down that I had planned to use was suddenly filled with soldiers. De Guirec was one of them, so he would identify me, and the game would be up. I only saw one way out, and that was by jumping from the window.
The water in the Seine is cold, colder in December than in the summer, and it was a near death experience to swim across. Fortunately the tide was coming in, making the water calmer than usual.

**** 6 weeks earlier ****
I had a French agent, who I used to get some natural tint colours such as the “Turnsole”. He had a family here, but he was unfortunately off on a business trip to Italy, was coming back in a few weeks. He had left a note saying I was invited me to Salon de Marguerite de la Sablière. Sablière means 'sand-pit', so I was not much impressed. I didn't know what it was in detail, it was one of several meeting place for the wealthy and rich, but in addition the hostess' husband was a protestant, and a source of some information, so I had received this somewhat cryptic invitation, that said "Mme de la Sablière reçoit chez elle..." (Mrs de la Sabliere receives at home). I was vaguely aware what a "Salon" was. In my correspondence with Margaret Cavendish, she had mentioned it was a custom in London and Paris, However Lady Cavendish wrote she did not find pleasure in such. So I did know at the time that this salon was the place where they discussed science, or what they called philosophy of nature. The house in Paris was not very large, but it was a separate building, while more common people were stacked on top of each other. The servants at the entrance would only turn poorly clad persons away. I was wearing such garb as was usual in the Low Countries; nothing ostentatious, so I only barely passed the muster, and then probably accepted because I spoke with a foreign accent. I was meticulously applying a fake, and thin moustache to my upper lips. It had to be thin. Thin as is normal for young men whose facial hair has just started to grow.
I entered and knew no-one. Obviously I should seek up the hostess, but she was busy with a whole lot of persons. To my right were some men, some young, some old. To my left more men, but also women, two young ones who studied me from head to toe. I still refused to wear wig, so I was unfashionable there too. I had curled my hair so it looked like a wig. I was drawn towards them, as if it was somehow safer to stand with them than with this crown of unknown men, but at the same time I knew it was not seeming for young women to be with an unknown young man, which I appeared to be. They were wearing clothes worth two months salary for a normal citizen. In my dark clothes I felt like an undertaker in a rave-party. I could hear they were not too educated, or rather, they were a bit uninformed about how the world is. Their mind was obviously not on natural philosophy. They were talking about the costume balls at Versailles, where the Duke of Orleans was dressed as a woman. One of them could tell that the late Queen Ann liked her younger son to wear dresses. Her cousin had been his playmate when they were eight or nine, and both were wearing silken dresses. They giggled.
Some men approaching them made jokes about my sad look - "triste mine". Not to be out-done, I answered that in my country it was customary to be a bit silent before being introduced, and that had the advantage of letting the mind shine by itself. I was ashamed that my accent marked me as a foreigner.
There was a hush- they were expecting one of those famous quarrels that happen in such places. An otherwise brilliant young man, but who looked like a peacock - his coat was purple and golden yellow, made derogatory remarks about foreigners lacking social grace.
"I am on my way to greet the hostess. Mind if I do that before we discuss merits and demerits?"
Slightly taken aback they let me pass, and I approached Mme de la Sabliere, greeted her with gusto, waving my hat,
"Allow me Madam to bring forward my utmost respect."
"And who are you … Monsieur...?"
"I am Van Zevenhuis - from the Low Countries"
"Fanne Sefen'us? ….” she kind of tasted the name and added “ ah oui va' Zewen'üis", and the last bit created a hush before it was echoed. Their poor reproduction of my name.
A man with an impressive wig, that appeared to be going away, turned around and suddenly jumped on me - embracing me, and then he talked in Dutch.
"At long last we meet - I am so impressed of your work".
"Sir, you have the better of me ..."
"Christiaan Huygens, uw dienar" , ( C.H. Your Servant)
I was still stunned as I met Christian Huygens at long last. As the director of the French "Academie des Sciences", he was very much venerated, so it was difficult to get some time with him. He was the protégé of Colbert, which was maybe the strongest motive I had to waste time discussing things with the second mightiest man in France. Huygens had requested me to do it.
Huygens would probably not have liked me as much if I hadn't supported his wave-theory of light.
He switched to French and announced:
"Messieurs, et mesdames, I present to you the young prodigy from my home country - Monsieur Van Zevenhuis", and he proceeded to present the persons in his entourage: The first one was a young Dane was also one of his protégés, and was a social climber, because it was recently announced that Ole Römer was the new tutor to his royal highness the prince, heir to the king. So actually a lot of the intelligentsia was protestants and foreigners, both an irritating fact to the His most Christian Majesty, Louis, the 14th that wanted to be remembered as the Sun King, and was doing his utmost to prove that French is best.

Meanwhile the rest of the audience came closer; they whispered and repeated the name
va' Zewen'üis.
Quite a change. I was suddenly the centre of attention.
Huygens then asked if I was free to defend my thesis early next week, and I agreed. Early in the week. I still had to get the meeting with the minister of trade in place.

One of the girls who gallant friend had almost ridiculed me before approached me, and asked if I was the doctor, that had managed to cure the syphilis.
"No madam - It is my brother's wife who are well versed in the art of healing, but I know how she does it!"
She blushed, and said
"I am Mademoiselle Hortence de Guirec"
I kissed her extended hand, as I had seen the other gentlemen had , and felt very foolish.
"Could you come to my house tomorrow for a medical consultation"
I was about to say “I am not a Doctor”, but opted to keep that for later. We agreed on approximate time, depending on delays at the ministry and I inquired where her domicile was located. In such circles you don't call a house a house.

After some discussion with other members of the community I was encouraged to tell about some of the wonders I had discovered. It was pretty late, so the rooms were dim, although there were hundred of candles. I then asked if the hostess was ready to perform the experiment herself. She probably had a glass of water. From the pocket of my waistcoat I took out a small vial containing some small metallic looking lumps, and with my tweezers I picked out one.
"The fluid is oil. I just have to store these pieces air-tight, and without water - as you shall see it will burn on contact with water"
I dried it in a tissue, and then I asked the lady to use the tweezers and drop it carefully on top of the water. The flames lit the room stronger than the candles, and left the congregation stunned.
I then bade them all farewell.

****
Getting in contact with Hortence de Guirec was a stroke of luck.
I found the de Guirec residence. Though they did not live in poverty, I could see they were rich, but they probably had a decent income. They only had two servants, a man and a woman. Her father worked in the war-ministry, in the Louvre. Officially I was just making a social call, so I was not allowed to be alone with the lady. She had however arranged it so that it was her grand-mother who was both half-blind from a cataract and mostly deaf, who as present. She claimed we could speak freely. I asked her why she was interested in my brother's treatment. She explained:
"I am also eating enormous quantities of chocolate, and it is making my stomach ache"
"And when you heard about this friend of yours ... "
"Yes! Madame de Coëtlogon gave birth to a child that was completely burned because she ate such large amounts of chocolate, and Mme de Sévigné complains all the time her heartburn, and I can't stop eating and drinking chocolate. My mother had the same craving for chocolate when she expected my brother, and she died later of the burn in her belly, and my father complains all the time of pain in his tummy "
The explanation got more and more frantic, and I understood that she had a problem that was difficult to express. So I started to thread carefully. Her mother had died during the pregnancy? I then asked for a sample of her urine, and I would also take a little bit of her blood.
"Oh yes a blood-letting helps a lot", she said.
I looked at her, and wondered if she was sarcastic, but not so. So I came back the next day, and took the blood, and got the content of her chamberpot, and I said the study would require some days.

Just as I was about to leave, her father came home, and there was some hub-hub because he had not requested a doctor, and he had the right to know everything that was going on in his house.

I manage to make him take some medication against his "Choleric" excesses, and that I avoided blood-letting, as I had some better products against too mucus Phlegma, and dark bile and so on, I had a look at his health too. He was worse after meals, he had so much to do. He had just last year spent a lot of energy to prove that he was indeed of noble descent to the royal commission led by the François d'Argouges, with sole purpose to find false noblemen amongst the real ones. Claiming nobility was, as you may guess, a fancy way of tax evasion. He was administrating supplies for the army. There was quite some depots to be stocked with food. in the North, and there was new recruits to be trained all over France. New muskets were commissioned, and more black powder to manufacture and import. The best saltpetre came from India, which was why the trade-post at Pondichery was crucial. The medication was working, and he was talking - talking a lot.
We also had some further discussions on the work of Baronnet de Guirec, and I got some figures that were quite alarming. The king had increased the size of the army beyond 150 000 men. There was absolutely no way he could keep that as a standing army unless start a war. Then de Guirec mentioned a treaty - a document signed somewhere in England, and which existed only in two copies...Scolopamin has this effect that the subject will talk and talk, and usually will not remember, so I could continue being social, and pretend nothing happened.

We could have talked for hours about various things, and did so, until a guy came in. He was wearing boots and leather coat, but otherwise wore silk and ruffles, and in spite of that he radiated maleness. I was almost at a loss of breath.
"Ah, Jean - there you are. Let me present to you the brilliant physician van Zevenhuis
Docteur Van Zevenhuis - this is my son - Lieutenant of the Royal Guard- Jean ArDuin de Guirec"
I was about to curtsy, and managed in a clumsy way to change it to a bow.
"Your servant" , I managed to stutter.
I also corrected the older man - doctor not yet - so in the art of healing I was a mere amateur.

Monsieur le baronet de Guirec the elder, was fairly easy to diagnose: I was certain he had an ulcer, and it explained his bad mood. I gave him twenty one pills to treat his condition. As to his daughter I was not so sure, but I said I come back some days later, and we would probably meet in the Salon of Science.

The laboratory on board was not complete, but I could do some tests. As the customs officer came to check the yacht on entry to France at Rouen he had wondered about the lab. I said that I was doing Alchemy, and expected to find the Philosophers stone in Paris. I am not sure if they were in awe or considered me lunatic.
I could not detect any chorionic gonadotropin on the chromatogaph. It is the hormone that make pregnancy tests turn blue. ... I caught myself thinking that maybe one day I would do the same test on my own... Stop - I am a guy that by mistake of this stupid gaming machine was caught here in a world that was 400 years in the past. I am a man I am a man I am. I repeated the mantra over and over again.

****
As I managed to swim across the Seine, I was helped out of the water by my crew, and you may say I was guilty of the fate that was going to hit them. I always had a booby-trap in my quarters. So in a way I sent them to their death as I ordered the yacht to reach Rouen and Amsterdam. By the third bend of the Seine, in sight of the mansion owned by the Marquis de Longoeuille, the yacht was boarded and the Captain surrendered.
“Mijnheer van Zevenhuis is not here”
“We are on the kings business. We shall search the boat ourselves”
They successfully managed to trigger the booby-trap, and the explosion was heard all the way to Paris. With a little luck they might think I was inside.

**** two weeks earlier ****

I spent quite some time at the University , La Sorbonne. I was invited to present a few lectures on various subjects. I made the last preparation for me receiving the doctor title, but one can not have all work and no fun. I overheard someone saying there was this very funny piece of comic theatre played to the west of the Louvre. Lieutenant de Guirec and his sister Hortence were actually proposing to go and see it. They were performing one of the last times of "Le bourgeois gentilhomme". Of course my French was not so perfect so the play was at times difficult to follow, but it was magnificent. The location of the theatre wasn't difficult to find: "Theatre du petit Palais," was not far from where many years later an Obelisk would stand. I was surprised how easy it was to laugh, and the music fitted the mood of the play: Pompous and measured. I managed to understand most of what was said, laughing when Mr Jourdain tries to explain how to pronounce "u" in French, and I loved it when the Mr Jourdain thought he was about to become a member of the Turkish nobility. It was a great play, just a shame the cost of running it with all musicians, and dancers made it prohibitively expensive, and whatever profit ended up with Lully.
....
The hall of the university was full of people. Students mostly, but a large assembly of gawkers too. I was totally nervous. Last night I dreamed I was being exposed as a woman, and that I was standing there stark naked in front of a congregation of professors in their robes. Only a dream - a nightmare!

I saluted the opponents, and then started by asking if I should do it in Latin, as my work was written in Latin, in Dutch as that was the language in which these ideas had generated, or French, which obviously was the language of most the audience. There was a short laughter, and the rector of La Sorbonne said that the Collegiate preferred Latin, but French was accepted, and recommended by the King, so be it as His Majesty wished.
I then explained the phenomenon of refracting light by providing a large glass recipient filled with water, and showed how the ruler I had appeared to be broken, and I explained how the theory by Sir Huygens explained the behaviour of light. as a wave phenomena, and I showed how the "camera oscura" worked, and allowed the artists to draw perfect miniatures of landscapes. I then proceeded to explain some issues with perception. I asked the gentlemen in the audience to read a message. Using various colours I had composed a message that was unreadable to most. As it turned out, one of my opponents could read it. "I will give you a Louis d'Or" - which I did. There was several other then that claimed they could read it, and I said I would give them the same if they could read the following text. "I am a charlatan" it said - one of them could which proved that he was a charlatan, and I gave the golden coins to the others. I then explained that my brother had found that some men could not truly distinguish green and red. I then went on to mention that an English professor had shown a large triangular glass-prism and its effect. He had not yet published his work, but was lecturing on the subject at Cambridge. I went over to a corner of the room, which was not precisely well-lit, and we could see the ghostly "spectrum". This effect was not new, as the richer persons in the audience had probably bought crystal from Venice, and now France or maybe they owned diamonds, and appreciated the play of colours. I then explained refraction as velocity change of light, and that it was sensitive to the media. I measured the refractive index of a diamond to be around 2 ½ , which could be used to find fakes among true diamonds - "Are there any diamond merchants in the crowd?" ( followed by laughter in the audience )
I then went on to describe an experiment that removed air from a bottle with a vacuum-pump, and I was unable to measure the change in refraction, which would indicate the the difference between refraction in air and vacuum is less than a 1/1000. Was the spectrum an aberration due to it passing trough a medium? I did then show a silver-surface in which I had made millions of small grooves, and the surface then reflected the rainbow, just as I did show them a hollow mirror that worked as a magnifying glass , and burned the paper I was holding. An experiment that fascinated the audience, but which I pointed out was not new, as it was claimed that Archimedes had defended Syracuse with such mirrors.
For three hours I lectured, and there was standing ovation at the end. My opponents had of course millions of questions, and some criticism.
I had not honoured Pierre de Fermat's work on the speed of light, and that according to him the denser the object, the slower the speed of light-wave. I retorted that the relationship was not that simple as for example Ethanol was lighter than water, and slightly higher refractive index, diamond was lighter than corundum, but significant higher index, which should support a theory, but it is obvious that the relationship is different and opposite if on compares Water to Diamond or Alcohol and Corundum. My conclusion was that refractive index is independent of density, and needed to be studied closer.

The second question was about my ambivalent stance on the nature of light. Hadn't I just proven that the wave theory championed by Christian Huygens explained the phenomena, as the corpuscular view by professor Newton was then disproved?

"Was it necessary to have a single model? Couldn't we live with two and then continue to seek the truth? In our view of the world we force things into categories: living or dead, plant or animal, yet when faced with phenomena's that are fundamental in the world it may be that theological analogues was more appropriate. Wasn't it accepted that Jesus was both human and divine? Just as I am unable to put him in one category or the other; my view is that light is both. It may be difficult to accept for some, but I have seen phenomena when studying light that cannot be explained by wave-theory alone. One problem with the wave theory is the following: speed of light is so great that the media it travels in is very stiff. If it is very stiff then we would feel the wind of this media, yet we don't. So I say that light has dual nature"
For some reason the theologians in the assembly thought that my arguments were acceptable. This was the phase that I had feared the most as it encroached on theology, and I had once consulted with a Jesuit to make sure I didn't get involved in something viewed as heretic by the church of Rome. I was only a guest in this country.

The Dean of the Sorbonne University then pronounced that my work was worthy, and I received a cap denoting I was accepted as Doctor. In return I gave him one grated silver-plate, the one that showed all the colours of the rainbow. I was offered an option to hold a lecture for some students, but it was optional.
Quite a crowd wanted to have a piece of me, but I had to find a privy somewhere.... Thank God for the F.U.D. and the long and wide coat that allowed to hide how I did it.

***** escape from Paris ****
I was through the wall when we heard the thunder in the cold night. I understood what it was. What I didn't know was that one of the sailors survived, and he told them I wasn't on-board, so the search continued.
It was risky to rely on the honour of the beggar king – the chef-coësre - and or his dukes called cagoux. I knew it was a delicate balance between the price in my head and the value of the service rendered. If it hadn't been for the heavy-handed repression of the poor by de la Reynie, the new chief of police, I think they would have preferred to hand me over. He had recently arrested and branded 200 of the men of la Grande Cour des Miracles ( the great miracle court), and sent them to hard labour,which was worse than slavery. In the operations he had also managed to arrest the daughter of the chef-coësre. To help was a risky whim, a moment of insanity. I saved her and two others, against a promise of help. I was lucky that the search for my person was a task given to the chief of police de la Reynie. The Beggar King owed me one, and wanted to hit back on De la Reynie.

I got to St Denis where one of several plans of escape led me. Karl Friedrich Zimmermann was a protestant, but Lutheran, not really a Hugenot, and he was actually from Franche Comté , and he was stuck in France, as his business was practically bankrupt, as he lost royal contracts. I had struck a deal with him: I would help him out of France and gain a decent position in Germany if he could bring me there, if possible with his family. The seeds of this deal was sown some time ago. To prevent him from selling me short, I had some incriminating evidence he had done spying on my behalf for a year or so. A message left told me they had left for Meaux

**** day after the doctoral thesis ****
I was pick up in town by the Dane, Ole Römer, who accompanied me to the observatory of Paris located in a small village called Meudon. He turned out to be a nuisance, although I tried to keep a polite face.
On my way to our meeting point, I was approached by several prostitutes, eager to sell their services, as well as surrounded by practically naked boys freezing in the November drizzle. They were called orphans, but were professional beggars, just as the prostitutes were professionals. I happened to mention this. The guy, Römer, seemed obsessed with getting rid of all the prostitutes in the street. He said that if he ever having a say in the running of a country he would do everything to teach morale to the fallen women. I was not in a mood to discuss the subject, while trying to show some Dutch tolerance. At least in Amsterdam the prostitution was off the street. I was eager to to get back home, as I was only too aware that the natural enemies of France was currently their buddy. I also knew that by now it would be a catastrophe to be discovered as an imposter. They probably would not understand my true aim for this trip, but I would most certainly be delayed. I tried to steer the conversation to a more neutral subject, such as the speed of light, and how to measure it, and we managed to have a fair discussion on how to predict when Easter occurs. Ole Römer's problem, was that he could not predict it more than a year or two in advance. I claimed it should be possible to have a computation which was reliable.

In Meudon, I was welcomed by Huygens, who congratulated me and told me that I was now famous in the right circles. I had been summoned to the royal palace at Versailles, and I was not allowed to leave the country until I had shown the wonders of science to the Queen, and her entourage. The King was unfortunately busy elsewhere. I nearly said that I knew where His Majesty was, but that would have been betraying the information from a slightly intoxicated minister. Huygens was proud to show off yet another protégé that was doing it well.
That very same night I broke into the war room of the Louvre, without being noticed, and opened the strong box where Louvois kept the treaty between the King of England and the King of France. I needed to copy it, and send it to Dutch authorities. Paul was instructed to warn de Witt.

I had a new soiré, at Madame de la Sablière, and now I was really a star. I had received a summon to appear before the Queen! That was important. I still managed to be an oaf. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had seen a brilliant theatrical ballet by Molière. I did not know that Mme de la Sablière had been offended by another piece of the same author called "The Affected Young Ladies" as she felt she was personally targeted. One man asked if it was not Mme de Scudéry who was ridiculed, which it was not as Mme de la Sablière felt she was the target. I assured our hostess that I had nothing but respect for her, and would never dream of making hopeless jokes of persons with true thirst of knowledge. Should Molière dare make fun of women and science I would personally make sure that it was proven to be wrong as women could climb to the same level of knowledge. If women was "inferior" it was mostly due to tradition - knowledge withheld girls because of fear they may know the truth, lack of encouragement because they might soil their clothes while boys were supposed to rip their stockings, and burn their coats. Meanwhile I was going to name an experiment in her honour, so her name would shine and be memorable.
While I prepared the experiment, the discussion continued, and had transitioned into questions if it was possible for women to be good generals. As they asked me I said that "leading men now requires the right birth, although I claim it requires the right kind of aptitude. Gender was considered an obstacle. Nobody expected the former queen of Sweden, Christina, to lead the armies of the country even while she reigned, though she had such an illustrious father, but shouldn't she or couldn't she? Maybe she was wise enough to leave such matters to competent men such as Thorsteinson. In the far away country of Cathay [China], two women Shen Yunying and Gao Guiying were generals only a few decades ago. Why is that an issue - even in this country that was saved when a young girl without a noble father or mother led the relief force towards Orleans?"
The discussion went high as a certain Monsieur Poulain de la Barre was arguing much in favour of gender equality. This was maybe more fuel to the discussion, which I interrupted.
Time for the wonder. I gave the hostess a bottle and then gave her instructions to shake it and not let it break. The contents started to glow, and quickly out-shone the candles in the room. (mixing hydrogen peroxide with an appropriate ester in a bottle , and you get a glowstick.). As such it was a parlour-trick, but the guests were amazed. The bottle shone for the rest of the evening, and all guests touched it to feel that it was not hot, and thus amazingly similar to the fire-fly.

***** Two days after escape ****

I waited for Karl Friedrich Zimmermann, East of Paris on the Marne, in Meaux. I waited for Mister Zimmerman for a day, and a night. I was posing as an Swiss Gentleman, with a very unfashionable large moustache, and it would have to pass the muster. I finally managed to find out that the Zimmerman family had been here, and left. I walked out of the inn, and bumped into a guy they called Le Balafré (“scarface”). He was the one in the employ of de la Reynie, that had caught that girl in Paris, the daughter of the "Parisian mafia". Stunning the guy with my “taser” had been a whim, and a pleasure, as I had seen him exploit his position as a policeman of the Maréchaussé. .

The problem was now that he had recognized me. I was sure of that, and I was in a hurry to get away.

***** a meeting with the Minister ****

The Minister is famous for having said that “It is simply, and solely, the abundance of money within a state that makes the difference in its grandeur and power.” which I also subscribe to, and "Trade is a kind of warfare", but he also said "some people claim that work was best done early in the morning, and some claim it is best done late at night. I don't know which one is right, so I do both", and he was currently working day and night to undermine my country.
At 6 clock I was in front of the building that contained his office. Even though it was almost an hour before sunrise, I was not the first in line. No wonder, as Jean Baptiste Colbert was minister of everything but war. He was recently even nominated as minister of the Navy, so in a way he was implicated in everything that mattered. I had an appointment at eight. It was six. At seven I was allowed in.

Colbert was overworked, and he happened to hear about my feat of defending a doctorate, and entertaining guests, followed by discussions with his subordinate - a schedule he admired. I said there was nothing to it. I had some secret medication to help me cope. That it was amphetamine, and cocaine and I also had benzodiazepine. I had only taken it in order to impress the greatest workaholic person. That I had to sleep 48 hours afterwards was a secret, and I was very careful with dosage, as those things are so addictive. I knew Colbert's spies would report on my schedule, so it was a major task to hide that long rest.
I had him hooked.
"Would it be possible for me and my secretary to try it out"
"But of course - Monsieur l'Intendant Général. To try it out is free!"
He tried bribery, to get me to move to France, but I was already immensely rich. Then I remember the play by Molière, and I suggested I could become a French noble. I could see he was startled. Molière's stupid Mr Jourdain was modelled on the not so stupid Jean Hérault who had become baron of Gourville. I mentioned that.
I could see the arterial pressure of the minister rise to lethal levels.
"The man is a crook -He should have been executed - He was in league with Fouquet"
"Yes - but wasn't he man-servant before he became rich, before he bought his title of baron? And I heard he just received a royal pardon?"
I could see that Colbert was still irritated.
"I have to convey your demands to the king, as only He can discuss such matters, and his Majesty is in the province inspecting the army".

The meeting in the former royal residence of Louvre was useful, as it gave insight into the lay-out of the royal castle, and at night, I came back, and climbed the walls of the building, and got to the inner court over the roof-tops. Thanks to de Guirec's babbling I had even a good understanding of the rotation of the Kings watch, and I knew which window to open to get inside the office of Letellier de Louvois, Minister of War, and the only one king Louis doted on more than Colbert. Inside this office I could without fear of being disturbed sift through the wooden cup-board that contained this nations innermost secrets. I picked what was easily identifiable, and left no clue that I had been there. The treaty with Sweden might come handy, but the Treaty between the King of France and the King of England and Scotland was much more so!
This was the secret addendum to the treaty of Dover signed by Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley-Cooper, and Lauderdale, and on the French side the signatures of de Lionne, and Le Tellier de Louvois.
My yacht could be searched, so I made several copies of the treaty of Dover, and the infamous Treaty of Madame, and sent them by different routes hidden inside dolls. It was also quite crucial that the fact that the secret was no longer secret, was not known to the French nor the English. I had to get the documents back in place. Meanwhile I had to make certain there was no suspicion against me, so I had the audience at court.

*** Next day ***
At noon I managed to get some food, and do my necessary ablution. This was again not the best day to have to stand for hours. I had to curl my hair for an hour or so, I also had to change. I can understand why men preferred a wig. I could probably earn a fortune by selling the right products to make a perm. Clothes was next. White high heeled shoes, Silk stockings tied to the knee with large ribbons. Shirt with lots of ruffles and a gold-thread embroider vest. Some rouge on the cheek. Two rings on my right hand. I almost laughed, as this was fun. I was wearing more jewellery, more make-up more frills than I would as a woman in Altena
Presentation at the court required some different clothing than just a business meeting with the minister, and a gentleman must always have clean clothes. He may not need to bathe very often, but the clothes must be changed at least twice a day. On the average three times a day. I had to rent the room where I changed. They charged a Louis'd'or for the rent of it for a few hours. That was exorbitant price, but there was little room for haggling. There wasn't many houses in the area.
Versailles was still a building-site. The gilded grate that would come later was not yet there, but there were guards and workers all over. The hall of mirrors wasn't planned yet. Maybe it would never get built?

"Au nom du Roy, Arretez" ( in the name of the King, Stop) A quite powerful voice said. He had a very strong accent, but obviously French. He was rolling the R the way Scots do in English.
“Stop doing that, Sir! I know the person inside the carriage – it is one of those foreign savants that HAS the King's and Colbert's favour, and he is here on the Queens request”
I leaned out of the wagon, and stared onto an average sized man, with moustachios. Those were unfashionable, but he did obviously not care about fads. A familiar man was approaching.
"Sacrébleu, de Guirec! Do you know this no-good foreigner"
"His name is Docteur va' Zewen'üis I vouch for him."
The young De Guirec mounted inside the carriage.
"Bonjour Doctor van Zevenhuis, that was the Capitaine-Lieutenant de Batz-Castelmore of the Garde Royal, trying to be zealous. He is also used as a policeman, and can be ruthlessly efficient. He arrested Fouquet, and he ran the clean-up during one of the rebellions in the provinces. He is quite famous”
I didn't comment. I had read reports on what happened during some protests against heightened taxation. There were rapes and hangings, and the quartered the so-called leader, but I couldn't remember the name Batz-Castelmore in any reports I read.
"I see you are not armed, and unfortunately you have to have a weapon to gain access to Versailles", de Guirec said.
"Sorry?"
"You may not be of noble birth, but in order to gain access to the court of his majesty, you have to give the impression of being one. Appearances is everything."
"And?"
"You must have a sword. Unless you wear a dress", he said, which left me a bit flustered. I could feel the heat coming up in my cheeks.
For a second I thought he had seen I was not a man. I had done everything to look right. High heeled shoes, white stocking, frilly shirt. Thick layer of facial cream, and rouge on the cheeks.
"You know - the member of the clergy don't have to. You obviously didn't bring one, but the booth over there has some swords for hire", he added.
I was still dazed for several reasons. I thought the booth was for tickets, postcards and souvenirs! I couldn't tell him of the firearm I wore under my armpit, hidden by the waistcoat.
"Tha ... Thank you"
"Just go up the stair on the right, and ask the servants for the Maréchal de Bretigny. Don't bother to ask the other noblemen. They will usually not help you, because they fear you will get an advantage they struggle to get. I will see if I can manage to join you, but you can count on my sister finding you first. She used this opportunity to be presented. I will do so myself, as father is so busy "

A tour of Versailles still requires to walk in queues. At least there were no souvenir shop, no guide branding funny umbrellas nor T-shirts. The Maréchal de Bretigny told me where and when to be so he could announce me.
There was a strange atmosphere even though the King was not present. In his absence it was Monsieur who was in charge. Behind this unassuming name “Monsieur”, which is used generally on any kind of adult male, was the Kings brother. He was Duke of Orleans and therefore completely without any power, as the King could not accept anything that smelled of competition, and yet he was due all respect. He had wedded a German princess during the summer, but I would quickly see they were not in love with each other. It was his dead wife “Madame” that had arranged for the secret version of the treaty. In Amsterdam, where all gossip could be written without censorship, somebody had written that the king's brother preferred men, and loved to go in drag. The latter was also repeated by the girls in the Salon. I would not say, as everything seemed very normal when I was there. Even Mme de Montespan who had several children with the king, was absent, thus lowering somewhat the level of tension between the Queen and the Mistress royal.

The herald finally announced:
"Le Docteur Va' Zeven'uïs"
I was supposed to bow a certain number of times, I think about five, but I thought it was kind of stupid, so I only bowed twice. No social grace, this Dutchmen. I had no intention of coming again.
As I was not supposed to get closer to the royals, I had to talk quite load, which is OK if you are a man as male voices carry well. I tried to keep "alto" level - simulating I was a tenor. Not always easy.
"I am much honoured the your royal highnesses are willing to see me. And let my introduce one of your loyal subjects Mademoiselle de Guirec, daughter of Baronnet de Guirec. She has volunteered to assist me in my exhibition of science. "
"We have heard about some of your tricks, Doctor" the Queen said.
I feigned offence at being called a trickster
"Do you want tricks Madame - then a jester, an illusionist and other entertainers are better than me. I am a person seeking knowledge, a scientist, and study the forces and effects of nature, and nothing more, nothing less
The difference is quite simply that an illusionist makes things seem to happen, and I just show the reality. A scientist is due to share his method and thus it is reproducible by other scientists If it is not reproducible it is not science. A scientist explains things that happen- and it can, ultimately, be reproduced by all and everyone"
"And Doctor Zevenhuis - are you sure you do not put a spell on us so we think that it happens"
"Your Royal Highnesses could be fooled. Everyone can, but that is why the scientists have to do and re-do the experiments done by others to check that they are not illusions. I share many of those things, while others I keep for a while. My best kept secrets are how to make colour. I have the pleasure of seeing that some in your entourage wear clothes dyed with chemicals that I have made. The colours are not illusions, though the perception of colour is not the same from person to person"
I was not keen on continuing a long philosophical debate on the truth of experiments, so I pressed on, and took out one "glow-stick" bottle, calling it “Bouteille de Mme de la Sablière”, this one would turn orange, one other that would be green. Monsieur (the duke of Orleans) approached and requested to try. I let him shake the bottles that then started to mix the hydrogenperoxide with the ester, and they started to glow. The bottles were then passed from person to person and admired. I then lit a small alcohol drenched wick, put fire to it, and they saw an almost invisible blue flame.
"This type of flame you can make at home with good French alcohol"
"While this one you only get with special kind of metal"
Into the flame I stuck a magnesium-stick. The blinding light filled the room. It would be nice to do it in the hall of Mirrors, but that one was not yet built. Using this very strong light, my assistant for the day - Mlle de Guirec pressed the button of the camera obscura, and I had a photo of the court.
"and this concludes what I have brought with me"

****** The man from Meaux ******
The grey plains in Champagne were drowning in fog. I had almost killed my horse getting to Soisson. At least it is possible to enter a town as a lone man without raising too much attention. A lone girl would be questioned, and assumed to be a whore, or a run-away servant. Not that men were above suspicion, but men were messengers or whatever, and had good reason to travel, and often travel fast. There would be highway robbers, but they would go for easy preys. I might qualify as an easy prey. In spite of the cold and damp endured, I felt the biggest challenge was to get some decent sleep. Some inns were very lax in changing sheets, and there was more than me in the bed though I paid in genuine coinage. That some of them had a rowdy clientèle was also to be expected.
I was well passed Reims, and I was feeling the closeness of the Ardennes, and the border. I knew they were looking for me, and I was very much helped by the stupidity of some guardsmen who told what they were looking for. They were certainly not thinking that it was possible that this Swiss gentleman may be the one.
I started to relax as I was only a few hours away from Sedan. I was also very tired. Many days on the road take its toll. Suddenly in front of me stood two soldiers, armed with matchlock muskets, and soon I was pretty much surrounded by more, at least the road behind me was blocked, and two men with obviously some authority stood there.
“Well, well well. That is the man I told you about, d'Artagnan The man from Meaux”
“Yes, and I recognize him. It's that weakling of a Dutchman”, his boss answered, and I recognized him from Versailles.
That was the Capitaine-Lieutenant de Batz-Castelmore. Sh** it was the infamous d'Artagnan. The fourth musketeer! I knew I was done for, yet there is no such thing as giving up in my vocabulary. I was desperate. Inside my coat I had a SMG, and as I jumped down from the horse, I shot the two that were pointing their gun at me. An SMG does not give off a lot of noise, even less smoke, and the other guys probably didn't understand what happened. In the following minutes, I killed all of them. Those with matchlock had to light their fuse, and were not a danger to me. The man with the scar tried to flee, but I shot him in the back. This was an absolute necessity, as he would have called even more men.
“Be a man”, d'Artagnan said, “and meet me with a sword.” He was struggling to believe what he had seen: a pistol that could fire multiple shots. He had heard of revolvers, but never seen one in action.
“No, no, Sir”, I replied “a sword-fight would give you an unfair advantage, and I am not a man, I am a woman. Give a thought to all the women you and your men raped a year ago in the county of Vivarais”
“I did it for my Ki...”
I shot him in the between the eyes, before he could finish the sentence. Yet another criminal hiding behind a seal of authority. I had finally admitted to a stranger I was a woman. He was not going to live to tell!
In a day or so I would be across the border, and had only the rain, damp and cold to worry about!

Could you trust anyone? The country was about to to be attacked by its mightiest foe, and betrayed by its allies. On a more personal scale I was about to experience the year of calamity. Business relations are your friends because they are in it for the money, so you are aware they might betray if they see that as judicious. But you expect more from more personal friends and family. The very nadir of experience is when even your body betrays you. The year was 1672.

I spent a long time recovering from the events in France. I wasn't wounded by anyone. It was the cold and the hardship of riding through the forest and hills of the Ardennes at the weather deteriorated and the cold of the little Ice Age.
I caught a cold, and it evolved into a bronchitis. It was difficult to gain a berth on one of the barges that would bring me first to Luik (Liege), then on. By the time I got to Deventer I was delirious with fever, as it was acute pneumonia. I thought I was treated by Greta. What was Greta doing there?. She looked very thick, almost like a balloon. Suddenly she was transformed into Anna, who treated me at the hospital in Harlingen. She was running many clinics and hospitals now. Massive use of antibiotics saved my life.
Recovery took months. The war had been declared as I finally managed to get home, and found out that Paul had not forwarded the messages, as I otherwise had expected. I found all the stuff sent from Paris nicely stacked by the ever duty-conscious Els, but Paul hadn't been home. All the intelligence gathered at the cost of lives was wasted.
I wrote a letter to the Grand Pensioner (Prime minister) J de Witt warning him about the size of the French forces, and adding Germans provided by two Prince-bishops, it would be in the order of a quarter million men.

There will be war, and the old saying "In Pace para Bellum". Which was actually the title of an article I wrote to the local news-paper, where I pointed out that France in particular wanted war, but that England, with its de facto catholic monarch, a protestant only in name, would probably join in.
I quoted an expert on matters that was not yet born: The conqueror is always a lover of peace; he would prefer to take over our country unopposed. That is one of the maxims of von Clausewitz.

I purchased letters of marks for my ships. It would turn out the captains were well prepared as only one of the twenty merchantmen was taken by the English, and they took 6 or 7 prizes themselves, but then they knew the advantage of sailing in a convoy when threatened.

I did write many articles over the last years. I criticized slavery in general, and in Dutch colonies in particular. How on earth could we claim to be morally superior to anyone, when we accept slavery?
I criticised the one-sided emphasis on Navy, and I said the union had to train soldiers to work together, not just fight for the protection of their own town or province. I had a reputation as a critics of the current government.
Could it be this criticism be the reason for me getting no contract with the right people in the war ministry? Why wouldn't my normal contact in the Navy get me an interview with de Ruyters or Tromp or someone with enough clout?
I knew the town-militia would be mobilized, and they could maybe even try to conscript the despised Remonstrants, there were two categories that were not yet considered for mobilization and that was women, and foreigners. The Anabaptists from Elsas and Switzerland would refuse to fight. I had planned for that, so quite a few were employed in my munitions work, and keeping the agricultural production up as farmers were conscripted. Paul was off to hire mercenaries. As you see from the numbers; we did not have enough weapons for everyone. Most of these were employees that worked in our brewery, our chemical factories, stills and mills. This war came too early, but at least I had also bought 50 ton of lead, and 40 ton of pewter and 10 ton of copper a year ago. Quite a lot had been bought in England, and had helped deplete the supply of the raw material for the English war-effort.

Usually I stayed in my rented room. during the evening. I spent most of the time working on various thing, and trying not to think about the hopelessness of my situation. I could not understand why my contact in the ministry of Navy could just purchase that batch of black powder. I much preferred to be in my house in Amsterdam, than here in the Hague. I had lots of thing on my mind. As I travelled from Amsterdam to the Hague I was ambushed by some thugs with knifes. I was unarmed, but it was drizzling and my coat was made out of sample of carbon-fibre textiles. The rain could be the reason they didn't use firearms. My cape may look simple, but it was twenty-first century material, carbonfibre with nanofibre-coating. A simple rapier could not cut those fibres. Other travellers arrived on the scene and the highwaymen ran away.
I was in a credit-squeeze, as I used most of my income and savings over the last years on manufacturing weapons and stocking food and ammunition. I was not very conscious of it, but someone later estimated I was the richest woman in the Netherlands of this day and time, and yet I hardly had any cash any-more as most was spent on buying food, metal, weapons for the war that was declared. Money was sunk in warships and cannons. War is an expensive business. Paul was off to get the mercenaries he had tried to organize, mostly from Protestant countries, so he had about half the war-chest we had saved up. Selling a ton of black-powder would settle most bills.
Greta was reporting a difficulty to get credit for the purchases, and the payments for our other produce were delayed. Although she was busy arranging things in her father’s estate, she managed to continue act as my right hand in most matters, so I could still function here in Holland.
I told her to get out of Zwolle as the town was going to fall to enemy forces. She then answered she had ten rifles and a ton of cordite available. I continued to search for Paul’s contact in the admiralty. He had to be somewhere. A quick revision showed me that 1000 guilders had been handed over during the last year to keep that guy happy. That was excessive for a facilitation that didn't gain any deals.

The spring was dry and the farmers were worried that their crops would suffer. I hated the heat, as I had to wear clothes that were hiding my shapes, and gave the appearance of broad shoulders and strong arms. I had a wrap around my chest to flatten it, and on the warmer days it was very hot. At least here, near the coast, the fog came in, and made the otherwise unbearable heat, bearable. The high pressure system lasted for weeks, and large rivers like the Rhine had less water than usual, which was going to allow the attackers to wade across.

The landlord came up, and asked told me there was a messenger to see me. The messenger had a message written by Johannes whereby he told me that he was in the Hague, and could we meet? I stopped doing whatever I was doing. I put on my coat, though it was actually for colder days.

Here in the Hague I was nobody. In Amsterdam I had received a lot of attention. As a scientist with glory acquired recently in Paris, I was invited to circles I hitherto had no access. In Delft they talked about providing me with a tenure as professor in natural philosophy. Amsterdam may be a worldly city, but science was not the in-thing. There was one interesting “Salon”. A bit pompous as they chose a Latin name “Nil Volentibus Arduum”, but this one was almost entirely dedicated to poetry in various forms.
I had to tell about my trip to Paris, and they were eager to hear about my success, but not the science. They asked about my trip to Versailles. They were curious about why there was a warrant for my arrest in France.
“How did you escape?”
“I cannot tell. It would endanger the lives of those that helped me!”
I then told them I had seen a fantastic play. They were awed, but obviously better informed than me. They told there was a new play by the the famous Molière..
“... what is the name again?” someone asked.
“It is called Les femmes savantes”, a well informed person said, and he didn't have to translate into “The learned Ladies” as all present understood French, or at least did not dare show they didn't. He told a bit about the plot.
I suddenly regretted having made a promise to Mme del Sablière. I was not ready to come out. It was too early. At the same time I knew my time was up. It was increasingly difficult to keep up pretense. Occasional menstruation had by now regular events.
I had no illusions. They invited me mainly to have sponsors for the theatre. Mecenats will always give life to the arts, though often not the real avant-garde forms. This group claimed that there should be no political nor religious agitation on stage. I quarrelled with them, as all is political.
"Don't you see that most plays have an agenda. Prince Hamlet dies and the two kingdoms are united under one ruler - and yet it is not expressly said that those kingdoms could have been Scotland and England.
Many plays by Moliere, or Racine, are simply hagiography of the centralized power – they are political in that the royal power is described as a remedy to all evil.
Just make a play about Troy attacked by the Greeks, and it will be the political situation we are in now", I said.
I got carried away. I was too much like Socrates: irritating, and that resulted in me not getting invited again. Oh it was was maybe one of the reasons. The other was “the scandal”.

So I knew the members of the Nil Volentibus Arduum were interested in me mostly because of money, but Johannes was there. I was introduced to Johannes, and I didn’t hear his full name. [Johannes Antonides van der Goes]. He was just slightly older than me. We had hair about the same length, and quite similar coats. He smiled at that, and it was a wonderful smile, and he had heard much about me. I had seen him. He had been an apprentice of an apothecary, and wanted to become a doctor in medicine. He was interested in my knowledge of chemistry.
Of course I wanted to come again, after meeting this guy, and I have to admit I had trouble sleeping . I event went to the Theatre, called the Schowburg of van Campen. Not many people came to the play. The threat of the war affected strongly a theatre that did not want to handle issues that interested people. Jillis Nozeman the owner was despairing. Since the death of his wife- the celebrated Ariana, the attendance had varied. I advised him to take a tour with fellow actors, and spread Dutch culture in friendlier environment.
It must have been the third soiré I attended. He stood up and recited parts of a poem he had made. It was about a small river, a small brook in the vicinity, yet it was a praise of Amsterdam, and his words flowed so natural, in spite of being written in a very strict metric. He was … like the god Apollo with is Lyra. Like David soothing the mood of Saul. De Guirec had been attractive, but this man was beautiful. I had thought I never would say that about any man. The mood in the the room was electric. The pulse of the poem was like the tidal bore that surprises and left me in chaos. I didn’t know what to say.
“Do you remember me?” I asked him
“Excuse me Sir, you are famous, but we have not been in the same circles”
“On the contrary. You used to work as an apprentice apothecary. Didn't you?”
“Yes”
“I was once a client of your master. I had a very long list of things to buy for my brother's wife”
“... Yes I remember that list, but sorry – we didn't speak did we?”
“No” I admitted “We could - What about coming for dinner at my residence in Prinsengracht?”

When he came, I told that I loved him.
Johannes didn’t understand. He managed to exclaim an alexandrina “I am not [a] kind of man, to fornicate [with] another”, and he rushed out of the house, dinner untouched, he left without me able to explain.
O f***, he was certainly going to tell.
Well … he didn't, but I suppose I was not welcome any more. I had to put get closer to the political centre.

So here I was in the Hague, feeling very sorry for myself, betrayed by hormones and circumstances. It was strange that the prime-minister didn't invite me to discuss the treaty of Dover, and the treaty of Madame. Particularly as the war was declared. I wrote to the 'Raadpensionaris' again, reminding him of my previous letters that Paul should have forwarded.

A person I hadn't met before contacted me, said he had a message and my guide was going to bring me to Johannes. “All is forgiven - meet me at corner of Hooikade and Spekstraat.” I didn’t know where it was. So this mister Hendrik Verhoef guided me to a dirty pub, next to two butchers. A woman was serving. The skin of her face was full of small scars. Undoubtedly the result of pox. She looked scared and fearful of the men. There was about six men there.
“What do drink?” the pockmarked woman asked. She had bruises on her body, that she tried to cover, but the swollen eye, and split lip was difficult to hide.
“A pint of beer - Where is Johannes?” The first said to the woman, the rest said in the direction of Hendrik.
“He’ll be here any moment”, one of the men said. The woman looked nervous.
Something was wrong.
Wait one moment - the note I had received was too short, too simple and it didn’t rhyme.
The ugly pockmarked woman whispered : “It's a trap. They plan to kill you”
I notice the eyes of the woman moving towards...
My hand went inside my coat, and in it I found my gun. My experience in France had made the gun under the armpit as natural to wear as the coat itself. Since the attack a week ago, I never left home without it. I saw the man aiming at me with a pistol. A few seconds head-start saved my life. I shot the man who claimed to carry a message from Johannes. I only wounded him. I pulled the trigger again as some other tried to hit me, then I ran out on the street. Outside I managed to shoot four more of the attackers. The street was already slippery from all the blood, but that was mostly animal blood. Then I was out of luck as the weapon jammed. Two men remained, but they hesitated, probably stunned as a multi-shot pistol was extremely rare. Again I was saved by my cape, but it seemed they were prepared this time. The reliable gun that saved me while I was on the run north, betrayed me, and chose this moment to jam. My attackers noticed I was no longer able to kill them. I knew that I stood no chance to win a fight against two strong men, and then they went for me.

The War had prompted more active patrolling by the city-watch. I was saved by their presence, but it was a mixed blessing. They were hyper-nervous as the French army by-passed the fortress of Maastricht, and crossed the Rhine, exploiting the exceptionally low water level , and conquered a new Dutch city almost every day.
.....
Put yourself in the place of a city's night-watch and find someone from outside the city – a non-citizen - practically a foreigner - surrounded by the bodies of citizens you know, maybe vaguely, maybe of the unsavoury kind. You better arrest him, and leave it to your superior at the prison called Gevangenpoort to sort out the mess. It may be that the person you arrest is innocent, but that is not your problem, although you are weary of the fact he killed four, and has wounded seriously two. He is groggy, hit in the head by one of the clubs. He was in possession of a fire-arm of a hitherto unknown type. Probably manufactured in Germany, or in France. Most likely he was an agent of the French.
....
I was dressed as a person of some means at the time of my arrest. The yellow breaches were not usual, and had to belong to some outlandish person. They confiscated 30 Guilders, probably intended to bribe someone into committing treason. They also found a strange scooped object in my pocket, but could not figure out what it was, but probably another weapon, just as that pistol. The charge of treason made them put me up in this relatively clean cell, and at least without another detainee, which could have turned nasty for me. A bucket is the only way to properly handle the waste, and even a half-wit would ponder the fact that I had to squat each and every time. There was no strip-search of me, and my chest was safely squeezed by the wide cloth. They knew I had been in France some months ago. They promised to find out by any means whether I was a spy or not.

The knock on my head had nearly cracked my skull, so I was quite sick for a while. Strangely enough I discovered memories I thought I lost. I had loads of time to ponder, and try to make sense of them.
The justice system is sometimes slow, sometimes swift. In my case I was locked up, and it felt like they forgot me. I could hear the gaolers happy shouting that the Prince was now Stadhouder (President), I was told the assizes had to convene, and that would take time in view of the terror that reigned in den Hague. I finally managed to beg for a stylus, and paper, so I could send word to the caretaker of my house in Amsterdam to provide me with my chest. that had 50 guilders. Of course my money in my belt had been impounded, but I had six daalder, and a guilder hidden in my boots, more than enough to bribe the son of warden into taking the letter to the caretaker. In the letter I had a "half-lie" as I wrote that my brother got the same letter, but he would need some days to arrive. I received a letter from Anna stating again the Paul was in Saxony, trying to be allowed to raise an army within the frontiers of Brandenburg, so the only thing she could help provide in the short time was legal counsel. So I got a lawyer, but he was there only a short while, and I forgot to ask for ... or rather I could not tell him that I needed ... I had a premonition what was going on. I was in trouble. I could not even express what I needed. To make time pass I tried to re-construct the basis for calculating the Gaussian distribution. I had no more paper, but I had the wall, and I had the stylus. I had loads of time, loads of time I had been a fool to dream that Johannes would want to see me again. I was also aware the time was not on my side.

In the evening my back started to ache, and I could feel I got all wet -- down there. I spent a sleepless night. My female body betrayed me. I tried collect the flow that was particularly strong now. The next morning, at first light, I could see what I had felt coming, and there was no hiding it. My light breeches, were by now all covered in blood. I was wet, and it was icky and it was clear to the guard that something was out of the ordinary.
Several time the heavy doors of the cell squeaked, to let in two persons, the warden with a barber-surgeon. I had to lift my shirt, my thorax was unbound, so it was to display the bust. I had used the wrap as a pad to collect the blood, but the problem was persistent.
This was a scoop for any newspaper.
Man arrested - turns out to be a woman.
It was juicy news, as it was obviously not common to have a woman which had killed six grown men ( it was only four, the two others were just seriously wounded, but a story has to grow in size). Here was a monster that killed a dozen decent citizens. There was going to be fun hanging her.. Garotte was maybe better. The crows on every gallows in Holland were already smelling blood. This was greater news than the enemy at the gate. This was more important than the news that so many cities to the south were taken one by one by the French, and that King Ludowig (Louis XIV) had crossed the lower Rhine. Then my identity was established.
New headline: “Celebrated scavant is a woman”

"Yes! I am a woman dressed as a man!" , I said in a resigned tone.
Even my trip to France, in order to unveil the pact against the republic was turned against me.
New headline “Recent contacts with French Minister”

The Warden came again with two doctors in medicine in tow, and then several others. The gaoler were considering taking entrance money for visitors. They accepted gawkers! It went on for some days and I had nowhere to hide.. My soiled pants were itching. Finally in the next day came a serious visitor. His lean face, with nice thin nose radiated confidence. I had seen him somewhere...
"Are you the one that wrote Tractatus Mathematica", he asked.
"Yes Sir!"
"What did you do to end up in this hell?"
"Defending myself, Sir! The five thugs attacked me, obviously to rob me"
"Yes I have read the indictment, and it doesn't take a genius to see that the witness report have been tampered with! Follow me!"
"But sir!" The warden was aghast!
"I take care of her - or do you question my authority?" ( Kind of difficult as the guy was escorted by five armed guards. )
"N No - Of course not Raadpensionaris" , but I notice a small irritation behind his grovelling. So I was helped out of prison by the great Johan de Witt himself.. He moved fast and resolute. We were about to get outside when he thought about something, and gave some orders. I was provided with a cape that covered my soiled trousers, and an large hat. The coach was brought forward, and the crowd outside the gaol was pushed aside.

It was a narrow house on the corner of two canals. Two servants opened the door, and a lovely lady in fine, but austere clothes , as befits Calvinist tradition, came towards us.
"Ah my dear this is Miss Zevenhuis, the talk of the town even when we have the enemy at our gates. This is my wife Wendela Bicker.
... and up there you see my children ... Agnes ... Maria -- and little Johan."
"He does not look that small - he is a big boy" - I said -to flatter the little 10 year old Johan.
"Yes.. Agnes will you help your mother to find some decent clothes for miss Zevenhuis? I suppose we can delay dinner enough to satisfy the needs of our guest!"
"Oh dear - yes follow me - My oldest daughter, Anna, is with my brother Pieter. She is about your size, and she has some clothes left here."

It was wonderful to get out of the bloody clothes, and I cleaned myself with a wet towel, I stood there stark naked, as Wendela came in with some clothes. My hair was long, and I had still curls in it as was fashionable for men, so they reached past my shoulders, but if I pulled them straight they would reach my breasts.
"I have to admit my husband wanted me to check you are indeed a woman"
"I have all the functionality of a woman, but in my head I am not"
She was puzzled, and I had to explain a bit better, while she helped me put on a shift, something I had not worn now since the day I was in a bog... .
"I have breasts, I menstruate as you can see. I can probably bear children, but I care nought for fineries like sumptuous dresses."
"It would be considered commendable in many circles", Wendela said.
"Except this wearing of men's clothes, which would not be necessary if I'd be considered adult and independent in a dress! Excuse me; do you mind showing me what you do to contain this flow of blood"

She showed how to hold the rag in place. She helped me with the shift and the corset and a chambermaid came to help me put on the rest, dress, and stomacher while her Ladyship went prepare herself. Even though her daughter Anna be tall, there was still a gap between the hemline and the floor. At least it made it easier to walk.
I dreaded the corset, but discovered that my sister-in-law was right when she said it wasn't that constricting. The corset wasn't made for tight-lacing, as the eyelet of steel wasn't invented yet, and besides, I wasn't overweight. So the corset did move my breasts a bit up, and gave support there, and helped me have the correct posture. I had this fleeting recollection of a discussion with Anna: I had wondered about how she could lace up every day.
She answered “All girls want to look their best”, and she had reminded me of items called hold-in and push-up. I had heard the terms, but did know.

It was quite a relief to no longer squeeze the breasts flat. Too much rich food probably the last year, which allowed my boobs to grow. The shift covered my skin, but I could look down in the cleft. I noticed I was beautiful. I had no jewellery, and I suddenly felt like missing it. Shoes was a problem. I had to wear my boots, but they were comfortable, and I still had some of my coins in them. The hemline was quite a bit above ground, so I was taller than Anna de Witt.
"Please follow me to the drawing room, where his Lordship is waiting" , the maid said. She was wearing the white cap, and white apron, ubiquitous to most female in the Lower countries at this time.
Moving down the stairs was a bit tricky. Felt very much like Cinderella, and it was tempting to bolt, but I would be caught. I was going to learn that it was even more difficult to go up the stairs without lifting the skirts. I felt a bit like a drag queen the first time out, on the other hand it felt all so right.

"So Mistress van Zevenhuis- what is your real name"
I sighed, trying to find time. So Wendela Bicker continued to quiz me.
"You can't have been baptised Michael - Does Mike stand for some other name?"
"It may seem strange, but I had a loss of memory. So I can not remember my tender youth, but I think my name was Maria."
“An how did you get the idea to cross-dress?”
“I had this premonition that this country would be attacked, and I couldn't make a difference if I was not thought of as a man. A woman is not allowed to run a substantial business. A woman warning about the war would be treated like Cassandra of Troy – nobody believed her warning. A woman should stay at home, marry and produce children. As a man I could build factories that make powder and guns and save this country from doom.”
"At least you have good and noble intentions", Wendela said.
"Thank you well" I answered.
She then explained that Johan thought he owed me or rather Anna a favour. Back in 1668 when I tried to help Anna to be accepted as a licensed doctor, and had travelled with her to Delft, stopped one night in the Hague, and we had been asked to treat a woman which was dying of an infection. I hadn't been too much involved as Anna was competent enough. At the time the name “Bickers” had not rung a bell, and I had no idea one of my first batches of antibiotics had helped save her life. Anna had remembered, and sent her a letter, requesting her help. I was ashamed to have to admit that I thought Anna had been one of those that betrayed me.

The food was a treat after the broth that was staple fare at the city's expense. I even remembered that the lord and master of this house was first to say grace and thank the Lord. So I bade my time, and did not speak of neither mathematics, physics, politics nor the war for the duration of the whole meal. Children should not have to endure the worry of war anyway. It was Wendela who approached the subject when the kids were off.
"How did you manage to kill six adult men in a dangerous neighbourhood? And what did you do there anyway"
"As far as I know I only killed four. As to the last question first. I was stupid, believing I was to meet someone I knew."
"… and how do you think you will make a difference where many thousand men are trying and dying?" , Johan asked.
"When I was arrested I had a pistol in my hand. It is not magic. It is however a pistol with ten shots. When I was attacked I shot the guys that was surrounding me. Six shot, four dead, and two wounded. I could have killed the watchmen coming too. Give me a hundred men, I could get a thousand French soldiers killed in a few seconds." I explained without going into the details of the difference between a repeating rifle and a pistol.
"And where is that pistol now?"
"Probably retained as incriminating evidence, but get hold of it, and I will show you how it works. Just promise me one thing: Don't go to the prison again in person, and if you do, bring a strong bodyguard, composed of your own soldiers, men who are devoted to you"
"You do sound like Cassandra of Troy"
"You have more enemies than you can count, Sir! Nobody heeded Cassandra's warning, most probably because she was a woman, although Homer claimed it was a curse- which I why I have to act as a man! Had Hector pronounced the same, then everybody would heeded"
"But Hector could know he would meet his own demise facing the near un-killable Achilles"
"There is a difference between knowing and taking a risk. Trust me and take the risk Small investment - potentially a huge reward"
"But I thought you were a supporter of the Prince? You certainly was quite critical of my rule a year or two ago! "
"I want to help the Republic. I am your supporter, AND I support the prince if it is good for the country. Division is bad in peacetime, death when we are at war. Remember there is no second prize when fighting a war."
"Well the die is already rolling: Wilhelm was elected Stadhouder of Zeeland while you were in prison. "
"I heard so. I also heard it was not enough for admiral de Ruyter to give the English fleet a lesson. What you need, Sir, is a stunning victory, to offset the series of bad news. You must also have persons in your administration that are not trustworthy, as my letter to you in April seems to have disappeared. "

It was weird to wake up, and have to put on a dress, with some regret, but I liked it too. In the somewhat stuffy heat of the summer, it was a relief to have lose hanging garments. After breakfast I was told to present myself to the Raadpensionaris and he said.
"Miss Zevenhuis, I am trying to build a certiorari to help your case. You are obviously a most useful citizen for the provinces, and I want help you out of this mess, but I must require a few things.... First I must ask you to swear an oath that you will never disguise yourself as a man again. That includes wearing trousers"
I was about to answer but he continued:
"As you understand, your way of clothing is extremely disturbing for men. I saw you at some event about a year ago, and I started to question if I was afflicted by the Italian curse - me being attracted to man. You must understand that God has made a man a man, and a woman a woman. There is no middle way."

Again I was tempted to answer him, but one does not interrupt the equivalent of a prime-minister, who got his job when he was 28, and he was now 46 years old.
"Miss Zevenhuis, you are reported to show a support for the Remonstrants, and that may be the reason for you being a target. You are proponent of full liberty of conscience, even for Catholics. You are agitating for political influence even to the illiterate rabble. You protest against the way the VOC treat indigenous populations. You have written so many political pamphlets that you have enemies everywhere. There are merchants that hate your protest against the trade of African slaves. There are persons that have grievances for your accusations of corruption in the VOC. You may have been the target of normal thugs, or for some other political motives. They could not kill you, so they got you arrested. You are a troublemaker. However, I will help you - but only if you behave"
"But... "
"Now! It is time you learn: A Lady does not interrupt a Man. You must have some male relative, someone to be responsible for you."
"I have a brother, but he is absent, currently on a trip to recruit mercenaries. And this is precisely the reason I go as a man. I am responsible for my own action. Was I not fully able to defend myself even late at night? I was not a target because of my gender. And remember I am a poorter of Amsterdam."
"I don't know if that is legal as you were hiding the fact that you were a girl. Enough on that subject. You defended yourself with a firearm!"
"Yes! And I am alive. -
I warned you in those articles in the newspapers that the Triple Alliance against France was not worth much. I warned you about the possibility of a Secret treaty against the . You have to find out why my personal correspondence addressed to you seem to have disappeared !"
“Paul is raising more troops in Saxony”
"Well, I have yet to see that army. I have to see to my duties. Dismissed!"

I was not just a little miffed, but he had such a strong personality. His wife was to be my warden for the next days, and she took the work seriously. I was not allowed out of the house. Such a shame in the radiant nice weather that was so beneficial for the attackers, who could sleep in the open without getting wet, and be about as comfortable as the defenders. It was imperative that the dikes keeping the land dry between here and Utrecht be torn down as soon as possible, to flood the land. The farmers were angry for their loss of land. I wanted to send a message to Johan and the prince of Orange that I offered many guilders to alleviate the loss of those farmers. Half of it would be given through the office of the Raadpensionaris, the same sum for the Princely office. Whoever managed to use it to the best of the poor people!
Surprise: There was outstanding, and unpaid amounts signed by P Zevenhuis on behalf of the Zevenhuis brothers. They had even started a process, and with the fact that I was a woman, it was unclear if I was entitled to access my own accounts.
Sh**! I was not of legal age, and some people was using that as an argument that my estate should be put under guardianship.
It was a terrible blow to my ego - when I discovered later that Paul had managed to empty my coffers at home, and had forged my signature with my regular bankers. The same bankers also found out they could no longer grant loan to an unmarried woman, so I could not stand by my offer there and then. Non payment of any debt, will almost immediately lead to bankruptcy proceedings. It didn't matter if I was rich, if I wasn't able to back it up with cash.
I was under house-arrest; all was very awkward, but one day a messenger came with a box. A radio, which I had to put together, but that was easy.
I managed to send a message through to Greta, who was stuck in Zwolle, surrounded by German and French troupes. Her answer was as sent by God. She sent a message back she could probably help me. But how could she?

It was nice to stay with a normal family, even if it felt like a gilded cage. I helped the young boy with his homework. He did not have his fathers sharp brain, but was quite intelligent still. The daughters were not taught maths. I was disappointed.
"We'd better prepare you a wardrobe. You can't go around in the same clothes all the time, and even if they have to hang you, you better look good!" said Mrs de Witt, as if to cheer me up.
"First we have to do something about your hair. It is nice, and long, but far too manly in the way you treat it."
She enrolled Agnes and Maria into doing something with it- pleating it, and rolling it up, so the otherwise quite straight hair would have ringlets. Actually a bit more elaborate than what I had done outside Versailles. Yes I have a good hair growth, which was handy to act as a wig, but by curling a bit further the hair, the visual difference was stunning. They didn't let me look, I had to put first on one at the other remaining dresses I had the option of borrowing from the absent daughter Anna. Anna was quite tall, taking it a bit from her father but I was an inch taller. So they had to fudge a solution to make the dress right length. Even then they did not let me look in the mirror, as there were someone coming...
The tailors had been called to the house, and they recommended the new fashionable colours, although they were twice as expensive. Someone was making more money than me on those dyes!
It was fun to chat about trivialities with them. They got curious as I told them I had many dresses at home. I explained that while in Paris I had tailors make sumptuous garments, and sent them home with documents hidden in the boxes. I had to describe those creations, and particularly the girls were listening with awe, while their mother was more discrete.
They left, and I had a private moment, when I could change the pad which was soaked. On my way downstairs I passed the only full sized mirror of the house, and it took me at least 3 seconds to realize it was me. I sat there in my room and could suddenly feel my heart beating faster. I started to cry, and Mrs de Witt found me there sobbing. I probably had something similar to a Stendhal moment, except I was not impressed by art, but by my own femininity. O f*** I was turning into a narcissist.

It was late. Johan did not come. We were past the normal dinner-time. Wendela Bicker was not too worried. "He is probably just caught up by work again. I suppose the French have sent an envoy to put forward more preposterous demands- I suppose we eat- Johan - as the only man around here- could you say grace"
Yet another reminder that even a 10 year old boy is in many ways more worth that any girl.
We were interrupted before we had eaten our fill, A messenger had arrived.
I heard Wendela Bikker gasp, and starting to cry... Her husband had been stabbed.

His wounds were deep, and the doctors made several attempts to kill him with their remedies before I was allowed by Wendela, to treat him. The infection was bad, and if it had not been that I got a consignment of antibiotics from Anna he would have died.
I was getting mad. I was stuck here in South Holland while the country was dying.

"Will you promise never to wear men's clothes again?"
Johan was a lot better now after Antibiotics worked in conjunction with loving care of his wife.
"Will you clear my name in the court case against me? Will I get access to my assets? "
He smiled - Yes -
I had thought a lot about this - would I manage to fulfil my plan in either case. If I was stuck here then destiny would prevail, and the war would go on for years, and Johan de Witt would die in the most ignominious fashion.
I would not be respected in the way I had been, and it would be impossible to ride in a dress. But I had a plan to let me ride a horse in a normal saddle.
"When the case is dismissed, will you also provide a small army to crush the French, with officers ready to accept my lead?"
"Yes, ", he said while wincing for pain, "but you have have to take the oath"

"Then I accept your terms. I promise I will never be seen in breeches, but wear clothes considered fitting for my gender - Is that acceptable for you?"
He nodded.
He signalled his wife to come closer, and whispered something; Wendela smiled sadly, and said:
"The case against you was dropped when they questioned the witnesses. The first guy you wounded, a small time crook, Hendrik Verhoeff admitted to having a racket trapping out-of-town people, and relieving them of their goods. In your case he was even paid by a German guy. Your life was worth 200 guilders. He made the mistake assuming you were unarmed, and it was not the first time he had an encounter with justice. My husband sent me a message on the subject the same day, but I was asked to wait to tell you. It was just to calm me, because I was worried having a rogue woman in my house. He even sent the handgun to you - here "
"And the help to raise an army?"
"Out of his hands! Johan resigned the office - Gaspar Fagel is now the Grand Pensioner of Holland, but here is an affadavit he signed some days ago, but was only processed by the notary this morning, whereby he considered you emancipated, and free of any guardianship.".

Shit - he had tricked me into swearing a thing I did not want to promise, and could not help me with my part of the bargain. Well- done is done, and cannot be undone, and I did promise Mme de la Sablière that I would prove to the world that even women can awe the world with their research. So I would have outed myself any time soon anyway. While feeling tricked, I also felt a relief for not to fear being exposed as an imposter any more. I was the way I was. The paper recognizing me as emancipated from any guardianship was worth a lot, though it probably would be challenged if the enemies of Johan de Witt were the same as mine.
"Keep the handgun- you are going to need it. Beware- Wilhelm still holds a grudge against your husband. Here you see how to load it. Is it possible to avoid death sentence for this Hendrik Verhoef? He is the only person that may one day identify the one that commissioned the attack."
Johan had done me another favour, and asked why the black-powder I was trying to sell to the navy wasn't accepted. Suddenly the money-issue was resolved.
Greta informed me that I could access an account in the Wisselbank in Amsterdam where 50 thousand guilders was deposited by her in a coded account. All the technical-administrative work done some years ago made her recognized by the bank as a bona-fide person. It was her money, her savings from the alcohol sales, but she claimed she owed me so much. She also pointed out that I had large stocks of food, and fodder which could now be sold with huge profits as prices had risen. She also pointed out that it was certainly not a problem for me to pay what I had promised, even with the cash gone, and furthermore a fair amount was available in my name at Hamburg Bank, the new competitor to Wisselbank of Amsterdam. It would take some time to untangle the mess that Paul had made, but at least I could see a way out.

Where it turns out that Mike is not the only one that got outed because of this war.

*_*_*_* Mike / Maria *_*_*_*
As I was came back to Amsterdam and my house at Prinsengracht, I had some trouble getting into my own house, as the caretaker thought I was someone else. I then got a real surprise: Lucas was back. He had quite some story to tell. But first he had a good look at me.
"Mike, You look great in a dress. What made you come out of the closet?"
I told him, and he laughed for at least ten minutes.
"Hi Hi Ho Ho - Now you are stuck wearing dresses - YOU who swore never... Ha Ha"
At least he saw the humour of it
"But just wait! - I have also a good story to tell!"
He had his baptism of fire on the Barbary coast where they were becalmed, and a galley out of Safi approached.
"With all those rowers I knew it was not the best solution to sink them, so I charged the deck guns with shrapnel shell, and just before they got within range of their own gun, I fired ours, while we filled our barkas ( a launch ) with en entering crew. The remaining Saracens on deck, I could take out with the rifle. Only few of the slave rowers were hurt, and those of them who wanted - mostly Spaniards were put on shore at Teneriffe, while we encouraged the remaining wretches to muster. "
As he got the message of the French declaration of war, he was in the South Atlantic. He happened to be near an English merchantman "Treasure Dawn", who was boarded by surprise. That merchantman was brought to Kapstaad (The Cape). where the rest of the convoy of VOC was warned. The navy vessels in the area then started a raid on St Helens. ( They would be successful)
He had then escorted the Merchantmen of the VOC towards Europe, and through the English channel, right into the wolf's den. Of course - the whipping of the combined English and French fleet at Solebay had made the passage possible, but still attacks were expected. Ships that have been for months out at sea are slow. Growth of shells and barnacles on the hull slow those ships down. The Zwan was still fast because of this product underneath. Only a few of the other ships had that special paint of yours applied. The VOC is going to pay millions of florins for that product."
"Your guns are just fantastic, Of course we represented a too tempting target. Twenty large fat ships from the Far East, and my schooner, and The Dawn laden with even more products from Africa such as Ivory and gold. Thanks for telling us that the English fleet was severely hit at Solebay. However, they had some privateers that dared attack. First was a detachment from Southampton. Five corvettes, all eager to collect the booty as every ship within sight of the capture were entitled to their share. They were in for a surprise. The VOC merchantmen are almost as well armed as a man-of-war.
De Zwan is quite faster than the frigates particularly in weak wind. The mast you put on it is thrice as tall as the others, and could make good the wind up there. So I then could hit the first with the fire-grenades. The frigate "Lionheart" was next. With one shot I made it burn, and it was impossible for the crews to quench. The five English corvettes got the message, they were on their own too small for the heavily armed VOC merchantmen, and one after the other struck their colours. Two tried to escape. I followed them, and from a distance of two nautical miles I set them afire, which made those that had struck their colours quite meek. I let the crew VOC ships man the frigates, and the crew were disarmed, and kept below deck. The nicest thing is that we were not seen from ashore at the time as the fog was rising up from the sea"
Lucas took a sip of tea before he continued his story.
"When we passed Calais at dawn the French were on the fray, and sent three ships. It was under Admiral Jean d'Estrée I believe, at least his flagship:' La Reine' was there, but that one quickly ran away as I shot holes in one ship after the other. The grenades were more suitable to hit on-shore targets, but sank the ships when they were hit. I think they saw risk of approaching, and disengaged,”
“I saw an order – a set of rules of engagement - signed Colbert that the captains are supposed to save the ships almost at any cost!” I said, interrupting the narrative.
“... but the ship "La Magdeleine" had taken the initiative, and was already windward of us, going about and was cutting behind me, threatening the other ships, so I had to engage, and I was limited to use the deck mounted guns. All hands were on deck on this "La Magdeleine", and most were hit by the first shot. They tried to man the rigging with people from the gun-deck, but the rigging was in tatters. And as a consequence they were awfully undermanned on the gun-deck when they were in range, and could not manoeuvre. It didn't help that we had wounded their otherwise competent captain, so the first mate was forced accept defeat and surrender. I felt it a matter of pride to have both English and French war trophies.
I found the captain de Préville of the La Magdeleine wounded in his cabin. One single piece of shrapnel, had practically torn off a large section of the arm. I helped our surgeon save the captain, and I was applying the tourniquet on the the arm, when I discovered he had a lump on his thorax, a bit like you....
Captain de Préville, was a woman. I sedated her with some opium from the medical supply, and sawed off the arm, and used some of that morphine you have synthesized. . When she woke up just before we sailed into the Zuiderzee. I can tell you she she swore like a French sailor. You could probably question her better than me, as you know the language. By the way Marijke, you wouldn't happen to have a dress to give her? We can't dress her up like a servant!"

"I hate it when you call me Marijke. Call me either Mike or Maria. I don't like that just because I am appearing as a woman, it is now allowed to use diminutive. I am not a baby - I am not helpless, I am standing on my own two feet. And I think the captain can be allowed to choose for Himself! He has made a choice, so please respect it! "
Lucas was a bit deflated.
"Yes - Yes - Yes, understood. Actually I agree with you! I forgot what it was like."
I was a bit stunned by that last comment, but let it pass.

I followed Lucas to the harbour where he was hailed by his men, and a large amount of other sailors that now knew of him. We went on board the La Magdeleine, and there (s)he was in the bunk; Louise Marguerite de Bréville was the name given at birth. I greeted her in French, and offered her a set of women's clothing if she preferred, as my conclusion was better to go as was considered "decent" when the game was up, as it was terrible to be looked upon as a freak.
He declined, saying he preferred to die, rather than don female clothing.
“I respect that, but I don't know how about everyone else. ...
How did you manage to get the job as a captain? Here in the Netherlands it would be inconceivable that you got the job without going the grades, showing seamanship, before getting the commission as a captain on a man-of-war.” I said thinking about a series of books I once read about a girl becoming a midshipman.
“Well – the French system of getting the commission based on breed rather than experience worked in my favour. I was in the Army for a year or so, but I got in trouble. My father was a good friend of d'Esté, and he knew of me. He was obliging enough to give me command of a vessel. I had proven myself in battle against the corsairs.”
“Then maybe we should send a message to your friend the Admiral – and confirm you are alive. I suppose you will find it a bit more difficult to gain a renewed contract when you are back in France, so I beg you to consider employment in my service when your allegiance to Louis and France is somewhat less important”
I explained that he could wear whatever as long as it was up to me. The lack of a body-part or two was no hindrance.
"You still have to win the war" he said with a tone that implied that he still thought that Louis XIV - the Sun king, would prevail.
He said he was going to be a freak anyway, as a one-armed woman. I still admire his stance.

I got in contact with Greta again, still trapped in Zwolle; Paul was out of reach.
It certainly was almost happening: The cities along the Rhine had not prepared themselves against this superior enemy, and everywhere there was chaos. the Provinces of Holland and Zeeland were most worried about attacks from the sea, so they had not provided help to their brethren. In many ways Utrecht did a sensible thing by surrendering without a fight. Friesland could not help either, as they were fighting on their own against well prepared Germans under the leadership of the Bishop of Munster , and his acolyte the bishop of Cologne. Both of them were funded by the king of France. Greta said she was not finished sorting out her father's estate, and that was why she got trapped in Zwolle. Instead she was now leading the resistance And she had had a large stock of food that did not easily perish; which usually is a problem when a town is surrounded a long time before harvest. Herring, pickled cabbage and had a healthy amount of Sodium nitrate, which local authorities didn't know about.

My yacht - was moored in Schiphol, next to one of the fortresses that was going to defend Amsterdam. The crew was reduced as the more able-bodied were tempted by service in the army or navy. In England, they would have pressed the crew into the navy. In the Low Countries that was illegal. Gysbert was anyway too old, and reliable, but it was with a skeleton crew we sailed back to Altena
I left Amsterdam on the same day as Naarden fell to the French. I could hear the guns, just as everyone in the city could hear it. Naarden is only 20km away from the city centre of Amsterdam. It takes somewhere between 3-4 hours to walk that distance. The front was near, but the enemy was closer
I had assumed it was safe to sail on the Zuyderzee in a small boat back to Altena. I couldn't be more wrong. We were almost overtaken by a pirate-ship full of Germans attacking smaller ships on the Zuyderzee. Our rifles kept them at bay, and Lucas vowed to hunt them down.

In Altena I found the the whole town in disarray. Old men and young boys excepted, most men were called up to the front - either to dig trenched in the bog or man the few guns.
Pieterzoon was amongst those greeting me, and he almost laughed his head off when he discovered I had duped him for so long.
The only advantage of turning up with a new wardrobe is that women were flocking around me, and it gave them a good laugh. They needed to laugh in these times when all news were bad. My nickname in Frys "t'famke" means the Girl, was not that far off. More than one claimed they knew I was a woman, that they had seen through my disguise.
In Paul's stuff I found a letter he had hidden. It confirmed he was the son of Graf von Arnsberg zu Siebenberg. My memories started to come back. Visions of the past which was flickering through my mind while I sat in prison, was now making sense. Indeed he was the son, and I the daughter, but we were not true siblings.
Right - we had a job to do, and my workers were used to obey me, which is an advantage.

I could understand why Paul didn't take the seven machine guns, as they were heavy, and he probably was aware they would consume all the rifle-ammunition, available at the time, in a few minutes. I had planned to use these on small armoured boats.
I had the funds to pay for production of more ammunition, and more guns and more grenades.
Our military expedition could be started. Lucas volunteered his whole crew, and some other sailors that saw hope in him as a good captain, and joined.
Quickly I organized some women to take care of all the children, so that I could use some of my best "girls" who by now were women with family. 240 women, but I didn't need yet a gigantic army. Anna had not only gone up against Paul by helping to hide the hidden funds, she had between her duties as a surgeon managed to keep an eye on the production of ammunition, though it was at a lower level.

I was worried the other side may have some players on their side. That there were other players I knew, as Anna, Greta and Lucas were identified. But had they access to advanced technology?
The radios were possible thanks to graphene- which is a semiconductor. Still amazes me that none of the others had been thinking how easy it is to make graphene.
[note: graphene was made with pencil and adhesive tape by Geim and Novoselov]

The good burghers of Amsterdam had some right to use their ships as warships in times of war. Getting a letter of mark to become a privateer was easy, and I had purchased such on behalf of my captains even before the onset of the war. I was the owner of five ships with fighting capabilities As such I was referred to as a Captain – at least before the city's burgers heard I was of the wrong gender, and unmarried, but the issue wasn't the highest on their agenda with an English invasion imminent, and the enemies at the gate. Then I contacted my liege.
I was allowed by The Countess to raise a regiment, and as the funds came in, to raise more. I don't think it was in her mind that I should lead it. The situation was pretty desperate so the HQ agreed to anything. I kept my miniature army under control by embarking them on boats,.

It may seem a bit off to aim for Zwolle first, but my accountant and friend Greta was trapped there. The small steel-ships had had built - could accommodate the guns, and supply the troops on the march. On the way was the city of Kampen. I never liked Kampen. Haughty citizens, still living on a glory of Hanseatic past, while the river Ijsel was silting up. The good citizens of Kampen had even torn down their bridge, although it was not over the bridge the aggressors attacked, they had given up the city without more than 20 shots fired. It was with great pleasure that I ordered the firing upon the this city, and the German gunners on the old walls had no chance to resist. They surrendered after having had seen their comrades hit at distances where they could not retaliate. One hour it took to gain control of the city. It was with mixed feelings we discovered that the enemy had taken the city officials as hostages. In the process of shelling the local HQ, we wiped out the old order. So much easier it was for me to appoint Lucas as Governor, and he would hold the first General election to the city council on the principle een mens een stem (one man one vote), and that involved women too, so there was suddenly 5 women and 8 men in the city council, and none of them particularly rich.
We didn't stop. Very soon we came into action as the troops of the Archbishop of Keule (Cologne) were considering re-taking Kampen. A very fast manoeuvre by the remaining marines, and our superior range with rifles crushed completely the four enemy regiments.

We were welcomed like saviours. We sent the boats back for supplies, while being celebrated, and taking care of the POWs. Greta was there. Greta was considered a heroine, as she knew how to fire those rockets, that kept the enemy at bay, together with the effect of rifled muskets (with Minié type bullets), and she had one of my special rifles with telescopic sight. They called it "caliver", as that was an existing small musket. Women were not allowed on the walls, but she climbed the ruins of the church-tower, with some of the safety harness I once had helped her design, and from there she could at leisure kill sentries, and officers. Just because of her, the enemy had to move the camp 5km off. Greta hit the wagons transporting powder to the guns. She killed most of the skilled gunners, and she even killed Baron von Something, and a Freiherr von That, in summary: terrorising the officers.
The mayor had several times wanted to surrender the city, but the brewers and the drapers guild had resisted, and the mayor was deposed while the siege lasted. The failed attacks had bolstered the citizens' morale, although it was tough to hear from the enemy that Zwolle was the last city that was was resisting. For some reason the main French force disdained to help their German allies, just as the final assault on Holland was delayed because the cities of Holland and Zeeland were going to the English if the secret Treaty of Dover was to be believed, so they had achieved their territorial goals, and then there was no really good reason to spend French blood, for no additional gains. So Münster troops were relying on an age-old tactics: starve the city.
"But my friend Jacob - goldsmith by trade, pointed out that if the United Provinces had given up, then we would either have seen an enormous army outside the walls, or receive a delegation from 's Gravenhage telling us to give up. Neither of which happened. Still - it was tough to ration food. They would maybe have lasted only twelve months, and Greta had only a hundred shots left. We were ill prepared for a siege. But thanks to you we were at least prepared to defend ourselves", said one of the men that was going to be a staunch supporter of Greta and me later.

*_*_*_* Greta*_*_*_*

I never like Paul. There was something about the way he looked at me. Maybe because he was jealous. I avoided having to be near him as much as possible. He had made his advances. The he found Anna, and I was no longer so attractive. I don't mean that he didn't try but he was much more careful when trying. He only did a pass when we were alone, and that was now fairly easy to avoid. He was absent a lot, and Anna was mostly around when he was back.
As the accountant I had a very good overview of the financial situation, which was extremely good. I made sure to have Mike's approval for investing in the VOC which had a yearly dividend of 18%. Shares in the company was easy to use a security, and there were other companies that did try to emulate the mighty VOC. A less eminent investment was done in London, where we bough shares in the The Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hudson's Bay. Mike was a bit reluctant, as he felt there was a war looming. I disagreed: England and the Provinces were allies against France. And anyway - it could be used to have genuine business reasons to enter England and do some spying. It was impossible for me to do it, as the English would not allow a young girl to travel alone without a chaperone. I did try, and was arrested. Not for spying, but precisely for being without male attendant. I was saved by a Dutchman called Cornelis Vermuyden, who had a brood of children, and he turned out to be a very good contact because he was surveying he areas near the Thames estuary, and in Cambridgeshire, providing us with very good maps of the area. He was probably not aware he was doing us services. I even bought land, to make it "reasonable interest". I "betrayed" Mike by describing an experiment I had seen Mike do. It was a lie, but it worked. A very tall box was filled with soaked peat. The water was drained from a hole in the bottom, and then the shrinking of the pile could be measured. I told him Mike was working on this problem of shrinking while drying peat, but if Cornelis hurried he could publish an article to the Royal society on the subject. So I think Cornelis thought he was outwitting Mike by working on this. Mike had reached a solid reputation in some scientific circles, and that was paying off. Precisely the reason he was going to Paris. Officially to get a doctorate at La Sorbonne, and then a seat at the Academie des Sciences, one of Colbert's pet projects.

Mike had his breakdown, and was under treatment by Anna. I was for once alone with Paul, and I kept my distances. Els - our caretaker was also present, so maybe I wasn't very careful. I remember I felt very strange. The walls started to wobble around me. Els told later that she had to help me in bed. I was better in the morning, but had some pain in my tummy.

This happened a few times, and I contacted Anna when she came back from a particularly long period of teaching Medicine and doing surgery at the University. I explained the symptoms. She was very worried, and then she mumbled something about checking the stores.
I have never seen anyone come back so livid. She was enraged,and her wrath was not directed at me. It took a while before she could even talk, and then she cried. I tried to comfort her. I had no idea that it was me telling about those periods of illness that created this.

Finally, after about one hour she could manage to explain.
"Greta. You see - I checked the stores for the amount of anaesthetic and painkillers. The last entry was when Mike left. He brought 6 bottles with him. There should have been 18 left. There are only 12 remaining. The product missing is Rohypnol. It looks like Paul has been molesting you without your knowledge.
I will have to do a full check of you. Sorry about that"

I didn't cry. It was as if she was telling me something that had happened to someone else. It wasn't until she said : "You are no longer a virgin, and you are even pregnant"
Even then I didn't completely understand. It couldn't happen to me! .
I looked at Anna wobbling around in the late stage of her third pregnancy, and she looked tired, in a way that she was not a few hours before. Tears was running down her cheeks. Paul had betrayed her, and had proven to be a complete bastard. I think I started to cry because she did, and while I started to cry - then I realized I understood it was about me.

I know Anna don't do terminations of pregnancies. There were several cases where we had helped the girls in the family way by providing light work, and a small cottage. Anna said a year ago: “In my previous life I would have given anything to achieve the experience of giving birth, that I think it is wrong to terminate a life because it is just inconvenient.”
I never quite got underneath the skin of Anna, but I think that being pregnant, and becoming a mother meant a lot to her. But Paul's brutal betrayal, his lack of morale, was a heavy blow to her.
She said that she had given up on Paul. She had thrown him out of the house. She admitted the bruises were his doing (she had managed to hide them from me, but she thought I had seen them). I had an inspired moment: He was probably going to betray Mike one day. We decided to form an alliance and help the next victim.
"Please, Greta, could you wait to tell Mike about this until he is back. He is so fond of his brother"
Strange I thought that Anna knew that Mike was not male. A doctor should know, and after all those years. Well- it is not my secret to tell!.

Mike's absence was a long one. He wrote that he had made useful contacts, and that he had met the great Christiaan Huygens. They were quite entertaining. Mike needed to enjoy life. The plans to thwart the crushing of a free country was the initial drive, but I think Mike wanted something more. The pamphlets were directed towards freedom for all, not just the patricians, and the rich.

Father asked me to come, as his wife died. So I came. It was just before Christmas, and my reason to keep away was dead. Hein was stuck with three boys, and a newborn girl. My little sister. The oldest boy was barely younger than me, but Father had a disease. I understood it was likely to be cancer of the pancreas or aesophagus and he was not well. I urge him to see Anna, and she came with me and with her kids for Christmas, because Mike didn't come home at once. It was useful to have someone else present when explaining that I was in the family way.
I asked my Father - what the name was of that town where my little sister Traudel died. I got to write down memories from old times, and the names of ancestors, and relatives, some of which would probably reappear when they learned about the successful brewer, that once was shunned. We got news from Lucas. He was fighting Moslem pirates off the coast of Africa, and on his way to South-Africa.
Father was unwell from all the heavy food during the celebration. My slender body was not so slender any more, and I was often sick, but that he didn't notice. I finally told him my situation. It was quite a shock for him. I explained that Mike was innocent in this, as he thought it was Mike... No it was Paul. Hein then asked me to call his notary - It was a minor change in the will that gave my baby half-sister Hendryetta and me everything, except a yearly pension to the sons of his dead wife, until they were 20. However he has specified Paul and Mike as executors and my guardian until I married. Mike was already a partner in the Brewery anyway. Paul's name was now erased, and the act witnessed. Hein was traditional in his thinking. It was kind of irritating, that although I was more than capable of handling money myself, I was considered as a woman to be irresponsible. I got one concession about this guardianship business: Should Mike van Zevenhuis be somehow unable to assume the responsibility of the running of the brewery, then his daughter Greta (me) would be free to take the necessary steps.

A barge came with a very sick person, and good luck would have that the Captain of the barge knew that the patient was somehow the owner of the largest brewery in Zwolle. So he dumped Mike on us, and I sent him on to Anna. Mike had a sever case of pneumonia, so he was in bed for months, and needed quite some time to recover.

We followed the bier to the graveyard. I walked behind while a nanny held Hendryetta In the third place came the orphans Jan, Joost and Gijsbert. They were a lot more subdued now that their mother was gone, and they were at the mercy of this evil step-sister - I may be disgraced in the eyes of many, but I was now the third richest person in town. Export of beer was phenomenal after the VOC understood the benefits of the brew of Hein and Mike. Because of all the grief and bereavement I missed the message that France had declared war on the United Provinces, and I could not react to Mikes recommendation to get out of Zwolle. I had so much to do, and it isn't easy to travel with two brats inside that decided to come out when it suited them. To be honest I was terrified when thinking about the birth, and it didn't help when suddenly an extremely large German army under the command of François Henri, Duke of Luxembourg crossed the border, while Turenne and Condé led the army of Holland, as the French called this huge northern army, and were using the corridor formed by the land of the Archbishop along the Meuse.

Two healthy boys were born, very tiny, and with a will to live.

The refugees came flooding in. I started to organize the defence, and I explained to them that I could make tons of black powder, and it was possible to improve the range of the muskets. As it was practically a sea of soldiers surrounding the city they decided to hear me out.
With a practical range of 100 cubits for a rifle shot, it is no wonder that the range of a cannon - about 1000 cubits was the preferred way of attacking a city. The defences of a typical town were made for the 80 year war and not improved much since. As the French had the better artillery, they had a tactical advantage when facing older cannons. In Zwolle Mike had invested in two rifled guns, and they had a range of 1500 cubits and more. Add exploding shells, and the French commander of the German troops had a problem. They could not put their artillery with the Keller system within range of our two pieces. Their only weapon was the mortars that could lob the ball. Actually quite far, but these bombs were inaccurate, and only destroyed roofs. They also were short on these. Another unpleasant surprise for them was intermittent shots from the city. They didn't know from where, but usually an officer died. Only the wind played in their favour as their commander in chief and Duke of Luxembourg came for inspection, and the latter got wounded by a shot at 2000 cubits distance.

It was irritating that none could get hold of Mike. At the same time I heard from Lucas that he was all right and well after fending off the English state sponsored pirates that were prying on the spice fleet. The stock-market in Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Horne were in disarray, so I took the liberty of securing all the shares that could be bought from people trying to sell before they lost everything. I had the advantage of knowing they were approaching Calais, and I gambled on them being able to pass. I also bought some of the not-yet delivered cargo, a pracitice which in modern terms would be called Futures. Anna helped me with this, and it was just in time because a few days later the saving of the joint venture Mike/Paul was gone. Paul had turned up in Amsterdam and emptied the company account there.

The two small monsters were constantly craving milk. In a simple christening, they were named Hein and Michael. It was fairly easy to hire a wet-nurse. Two days after Hein and Michael were born, a young mother of the area - a farmer's wife gave birth to a daughter, but she lost the child after 3 days. She desperately needed a job. Her husband was a farmer, but the fields were fallow and trampled upon. I could pay her to be a wet-nurse. I continued to give some milk, but of course my breasts didn't grow so big. It was great to breast-feed, but then you have to have the babies around you all the time. Pregnancies followed by a permanent job feeding them was the main reason why women were discriminated throughout aeon.

I didn't know I almost killed the General Luxembourg, I just know I missed an officer. The church tower was still a ruin, and the “Peberhuis” as the next tower was going to be called was not yet finished. So I climbed up on either one of them. The wind was steady. The target was wearing an enormous feathery hat. But at least I saw that I missed my target, as I hit him in the thigh. It was the wailing of one of the brats down there that disturbed me. I shot a few others, and I hit the powder depot. No problem hearing that. It was not going to drive them away, but it gave the bastards something to think about. I later learned they lost 60 men in that shot alone. They could not use the guns, as the guns could not be moved within range. Extremely frustrating, for them that is.

One guy tried to take the rifle away from from me, He was so much stronger than me, so that was no contest, but he didn't know what to do with it, as he was not aware my three shot mag was empty. And he had not seen how I inserted the cartridges, nor did he notice the safety catch. He made a fool of himself, and the brewers came to my rescue. I may not be a member of the all-male guild, but I was the owner of the most successful brewery, and the orphaned daughter of a very respected master brewer.
I was suddenly acknowledged as a fighter, although they didn't like to have me on the defences of the city. Everyone wanted to see my sharp-shooter rifle. I explained I had made the telescope myself, but please don't touch as it was easily misaligned. Suddenly I felt like I was one of the buddies. I also could give them information of what happened around. Officially it was my late father's pigeons that brought me messages. So I told them of the nomination of Wilhelm van Oranje as Commander in chief, then as Stadhouder (Cheers, we're saved) the flooding of the waterline, and the fall of Utrecht, (Disaster we are doomed) and that the Emperor had declared war on France. (First time for a century or more there was a hooray for the Habsburgs here, except when forced to do it) At least some news gave the city - more crowded and cramped than usual some way to not feel completely cut-off.
There was only two remaining approaches for the enemy: Rush the ramparts, or starve us out. They attacked before dawn on the same day Naarden fell. It was a desperate move of the German commander (Luxembourg was recovering in Nijmegen). The guns in the city may be old, but they worked perfectly well at short range, and I had unpacked the rack full of Congreve rockets, which were used for the first time. Their range was not fantastic, but far superior to what the city otherwise had available, so the rear of the attackers were decimated at the same time as the front. The number of corpses left to rot in the mid-summer heat was staggering, and then it was not going to be the least. Only a few came near enough to fire a shot at the defenders, as many drowned in the ditches, and then met a hailstorm of Minié bullets, that also gave the defenders a better range. Two muskets blew up, because the pressure in the chambers exceeded tolerance, but otherwise the success was resounding.
Plan D for the allied forces was to starve us. That was a tedious affair, and I could calm everyone by telling them that van Zevenhuis was on the way. The city's councilmen tried to get control over my homing pigeons. Only the pigeons did not want to bring any messages out, and they never got any messages in, while I could get a message through to the cousin of some important guys, and got a suitable response back. The council was ridiculed. In the stock of food that Mike had stored here was Indian corn imported from the Spanish Americas. It had the advantage it was not stolen, not commandeered, as few knew how to use it. I taught the women how to make tortillas, and we used the corn to feed the chicken, so there was actually not much of a shortage.

The fall of the attackers came as a surprise to most of us. I knew that Kampen was re-conquered the evening before. The Germans move their forces northwards in response to the threat, thus we were surrounding them with the cities to the west and south, the Zwartemeer to the North and their army ended up fleeing to the East.

When Mike came it felt first like an anti-climax. It was weird to see Mike, as Maria, in a dress. She looked regal in her French creations. She kept her promise to de Witt, even it meant riding in a side-saddle.
The crowd didn't even know who it was. They were a bit stunned that their liberators was led by a young woman. She met the gaze of those staring at her with calm simplicity. In the euphoria as they realized who she was, she was claimed by the brewers guild. And the drapers followed suit. She made a passionate speech to all, and all could hear as we had installed the only PA system. Strange to see some like Mike, shy, and very awkward in public performances, suddenly show a fantastic presence. She talked about the infamy of all rulers, she talked about freedom. She talked about freedom to the people.

I helped in the vetting of the prisoners. We found and identified Maximilian Henry - Archbishop of Cologne, and Liège amongst the prisoner. He tried to hide in anonymity, but I heard him whisper in German that they shouldn't divulge who he was, presuming this woman didn't catch the instructions. Mike kept it secret for a quite a while, so there would come a time to exploit-it politically. I suddenly understood why Mike had been so keen on having a small – but well-trained troop of mutes and deaf, persons who would be dedicated to the task.

*_*_*_* Carl *_*_*_*
Carl von Rabenhaupt was old school military. He had seen fighting since he was young.. He had even hoped to be called back to duty in his old age. He was old, but not too old, only three score years and ten (70). It felt good to be useful again. Kolonel (Colonel), of the Rabenhaupt regiment, an honour that made the old Rabenhaupt feel young again. Organizing the defence of Groningen felt great, and they had no shortage of black powder as there was a large plant producing saltpetre just outside the city - that is... it was there until the forces of the Bishop of Münster arrived, and they had to blow it up. The advantage of having the raw-material stockpiled separately, rather than as black powder was that it made it safer. Now there was a detail of women mixing the stuff together together with sulphur and charcoal. They also had food and resources for a two year siege. The canals had been breached to allow flooding of the area. Friesland is not as low as Holland, but this is reclaimed marshland. Dikes breeched added water. The rain had also helped turn the fields around the town to a very muddy and unpleasant area which did not dry up after a few weeks without rain. It rained. The rain had made it utterly miserable, and helped fill the fields even more. The challenge was to get the help of the farmers to do this. They saw crops disappear, and famine looming as the water was rising. The attackers had only very small areas on where to stand and camp without getting soaked. On the other hand, the colonel was confident as the enemy had made a strategic mistake by concentrating their strength on taking this city, instead of first securing the smaller fortified towns, of Bourtange, Oudeschanz and so on. The fall of Assen was quite irritating of course, but Assen was not as defensible, as flooding the surrounding areas of that town was not possible, and the men from Assen provided more troopes for defending the Frisian land As a political refugee from the 30 year war, he had always been irritated and exacerbated by the petty squabble between Dutch provinces. Had they cooperated better, they would not now face this deluge.

The foundry had to be demolished before the enemy took it. That woman married to Councilman Zevenhuis, and who claimed to be a physician as well as a surgeon had directed the salvage crew, that recovered something that must not fall into enemy hands: twenty new ship-guns. But they were no good because they had such a small bore - were far too long, and it was difficult to ram the bullets down the barrel. He had heard they could shoot much further than the types he was used to, but they had proven to be difficult to use. There was no hole through which to fire could be brought to the powder. He had heard a lot of good about those Zevenhuis brothers. He was even indebted to the younger one, at least morally. Now he considered them fools. Why produce useless artillery pieces?

The stench was strong as the enemy used a lot of stink bombs, Sulphur and iron burned together, which creates obnoxious fumes when it hit water, and water was prevalent. These bombs were lobbed over the wall by some powerful mortars, but had little impact as they didn't have explosive shells, just a stench.
The defences were strong, although the enemy were trying to storm the glacis, while his men were safely firing from the parapets, and they were in for a tough time. The cities guns were soon too hot to fire more. They would reach up to a a thousand roede ( less than 4000m) at maximum elevation, but for a bullet to have chance to butcher some attackers, they were not effective beyond 300 roede (about 1000 m) They needed each their own set of bullets, as they were of slightly different gauge. They needed to cool down, otherwise they could either ignite the powder, spontaneously, or break. The Germans had stopped firing with their pieces, to avoid hitting their own men. Women were used to load muskets and pass it on to their men who then could fire twice as fast. Soon they would be down to defending with bayonets.
Oh, the Germans had started to shoot again with their guns.
Carl never liked the safety of his command post, he wanted to be where the action was, and now he had an excuse. He was about to go out when Adolf von Peizen, his only relative to come from Bohemia to Friesland came running and babbling and shouting in German. "Die Belagerer sind belagert.- The besiegers are besieged - It is a relief force, and they have surrounded the Germans ."

He was stunned of the view for several reason: The enemy camp was completely levelled. Where an hour or two ago regiments of musketeers had stood proudly , and safely out of range of his guns, there was now only piles of dead. The only survivors were those that had been in the trenches. And just then when the smoke from the black powder lifted, an odd-looking regiment came in from the South. Good heavens - Carl had problems reading messages, but he could clearly see they were wearing skirts. A message was shouted to the Germans. Carl's hearing wasn't up to hearing that, so Adolf relayed: They are shouting - Get out and no weapons. - not even a knife. A German got on a horse and tried to make a dash for it. One rifle-shot hit the horse, who died instantly throwing the cavalier into the ditch, and then the man was executed. There were maybe a few thousand German soldier surviving, but they were so stunned by the hailstorm of steel that rained on them, and all their brothers in arms that were lying about wailing in agony.

Shouts of victory from the city wall tore Carl von Rabenhaupt out of his thoughts, and then he noticed a woman on horse coming in. One part of him wished he was fifty years younger, the other half of him was appalled at having women soldiers. A group of Germans tried to run away. That must be the "Liebregiment zu Pferd" led by von Schade. Those bastards were using some confusion to bolt. Some were hit at incredible distances by a few of the women, and those muskets didn't need to be primed. Still the regiment, with their leader managed to get away. From the West came more men behind red while and blue flag of the United Provinces . At least they were men. Their progress was slow in the muddy ground even if they were riding horses.

"It is nice of you to come to help us, but we could manage on our own" Carl shouted above the sound of cheers from the crowd.
"You certainly would have, but you would have needed about a month to do that, and we don't have time", the woman answered.
Carl got the impression they had met before. Maybe time to present himself.
"Lieutenant General Carl von Rabenhaupt, baron of Sucha, at your service Madame"
She smiled a bit and said.
"We have already been introduced to each other about two years ago. Maria Van Zevenhuis - though I know that it is not old age that gives you problems to remember me. as Mike"

Holy **** , so this was the weak looking merchant that had given him a loan on extremely good terms when he needed it badly some years ago. He had thought the guy was weak and effeminate then, but assigned it to the young age. He had been far too busy the last five months to listen to gossip, but he had heard there was a scandal about someone posing as a man. Leaving him time to close his mouth she added:
"I hope you appreciate that your excellent defence of the city, and the moats made it possible for us to lay the trap "

Then she said she had relieved Zwolle and Kampen before coming here. Carl felt this was a sign of divine intervention. He felt like he was given hope to yet live longer. He remembered the book of Psalm; “Him was given three score and ten year, and if for reason of strength they be fourscore years, is labour and sorrow.” Right now he felt joy, and relief, but he was not sure. A woman-colonel, that was so alien that he could not accept it -yet .

*_*_*_* Mike/Maria *_*_*_*
Men are ever so often so stunned that women could do anything out of the ordinary. War is often thought about as a man's only-ting, but how many wars have had had absolutely no women in the fight. Most of them have had camp-followers, which of course does not give women in the army a good reputation. In a few hours Assen was ours too. My toughest units was composed of those girls that collected leeches. They were used to hardship, and willing to get wet in order to crawl behind enemy lines. Many of them were promoted to sergeant, and as you know the seageants are the backbone of of the army, giving it a spine down to the privates. No pun intended.

In the deserted HQ we found documents. They were encrypted, so they gave it to me. There was quite a lot of documents. They used the Vigenère cipher.
It was trivial to translate, as I found one document with the translation, so then I had the key, and those stupid guys used the same key for all correspondence. Most of it was out-of date information anyway.

There was no time for enjoying the laurels. There was considerable confusion. The body of the Bishop of Munster was nowhere. Had he escaped? It was a good omen that the mercenaries from Switzerland were less affected by the killing, and they were more than willing to forfeit their engagement with their former employer, and join Carl, who tripled the size of his army. On our side the Commander in Chief General and Admiral Hans Willem van Aylva, was reported missing. A very wise commander who had recommended guerilla-tactics against a numerical superior force. When we found his remains, we discovered that he probably died, with his unit, from our own guns, when we rolled up the German army from behind. A casualty of friendly fire, an unfortunate effect of war.

"Women have no place in MY ARMY" Carl shouted, when I tried to join him.
"Didn't I just help you liberate your own city"
"Precisely - Women - particularly one as beautiful as you has no place in any army. They must stay at home"
"But all are volunteers, and they have special skills"
"No way"
I didn't even get support from his ADC von Peizen. He said:
"You can't change mentalities overnight"
"Overnight - There are several thousand years of women taking part in war: The Vikings had shield-maidens. In France Jeanne Hachette and Joan of Arc, and not so many years ago [1652] Anne-Marie-Louise d'Orleans fired the guns on the royal troopes in Paris."
"She just gave orders to do it, and she didn't man the guns herself - like you do"
"Precisely, and she probably saved the life of the prince of Condé by doing so"
I was furious. I tried to direct my arguments back to the baron of Sucha. I knew it would be of no help to mention the example from the far away land of Cathay, where Shen Yunying and Gao Guiying had been a general only a few decades ago.
"The Countess did assist you in exhorting the troops" I added, selecting an exemple very close to home.
"But Albertine Agnes van Nassau is our liege lord. Otherwise it is against Gods Will"
"And what does the holy book say about the will of God on the subject?"
The Count fumed, and left. He believed in the Bible, and he knew the bible said no such thing that a woman couldn't lead an army.

After we beat the Germans in the first battle at Zwolle, I had to go and greet. There had been so many things. Getting everything ready took some time, but I was helped by the efficient organisation developed which was my entreprise over the years, and which was largely intact because the members were not drafted by the militias. Coded messages from Greta told me where to find the weapons we had produced over the years. A building housing manure, guano and fertilizers also had the rockets we manufactured. On Terschilling what looked like ships-equipment was hiding field-guns and the much needed rifles. Grenades were under production. Gathering two regiments after I received permission by the countess to do so, and thus becoming a colonel, getting to Zwolle, by freeing Kampen, and Meppel, and … At least they didn't try to steal my little army of women, and young boys. The Marines led by Lucas, were still in Mepple. The liberation of Coevorden was his prioritization. I pointed out that the German front would collapse now unless supported from the French, so beating the French was more important.

It was then Greta got access to the Countess, and she arranged an audience.
The countess received me, because I was now a woman, otherwise it would not have been proper, as it was late at night.

"Wonderful to see you in a dress - and what dress!"
"I had it made in Paris. I had messages hidden in the shipment, but they were not picked up. At least I have a wardrobe"
"I heard that you were arrested. Was it tough?"
"If you think being paraded around as an monkey, and then locked up is easy, then lets say it was not the way I would have preferred to be outed"
"At least you got out!"
"But only thanks to Johan de Witt. He is a very decent kind of person ... and he has got a wonderful family"
"Yet his name is our enemy"
“There is a difference between enemies and political rivalry. The enemy is killing people. Political rivals differ on opinions, but with the public good in mind, and anyway his career is in tatters, as he resigned, and Wilhelm's supporters control several provincial governments.”

I was getting nowhere with tangled political scheme. I couldn't tell her that her descendants would become long living regents of the Netherlands, like Queen Wilhelmina, Queen Juliana, and so on. I was by now more than aware that I was shattering the course of history. As to the evil tongs, there were enough of them, pointing out that liberating Kampen was due to surprise, that the relief of Zwolle was precisely that – relief of a city that resisted, and not a victory, wile the collapse of the Germans near Meppel was due to a freak weather- thunderstorm that had drenched the Germans, and you can't fire a blunderbuss and matchlocks in heavy rain, and finally that the victory at Groeningen was a joint action. I quite justly pointed out that it was the scheme of subsidizing foaling and raising horses that made the frisian army in no lack of cavalry. I really needed a cavalry regiment.

Greta surprised me at least by suddenly speaking.
"May I remind your Grace that you once promised support when needed"
"I allowed her to gather a regiment of women – thus colonel over your own regiments. I can't give her any more, and I can't force men to follow a woman. "
Greta spoke low with her Grace. I understood she was calling in an favour. I didn't know for what, but it had to be big,

"We don't have manpower for 5 new regiments, and most of those are now under von Rabenhaupt. I am about to promote him to full general, taking over from our sorely missed van Aylva"
"I don't need full 5 regiments- I need the title. Titles are important
-as Countess of Friesland you are respected, you even preside, though officially it is your son.
- As a 'doctor' one is more respected in academic circles
I know you are competent from your late actions on the front, but without the title you would not allowed to do what you did.
It may sound like vanity, but titles opens doors, and in some circles they even supersedes common sense.”
“I am also but a woman, and the power I wield is on behalf of my son, but I will see what I can do”, the Countess answered.

I noticed some exchange of nod between the Countess, and somebody behind me, but that could be someone I didn't see. Lady Albertine-Agnes called on her son Henry Casimir to be at her side, when she then announced;
"Doctor Maria van Zevenhuis - you are now appoint Lieutenant General of the Southern Frisian army- although I can not provide you with little if any manpower. My son is convinced you are a magician, so go out and do the impossible. I will try to send you more capable offices and troopes, otherwise you are on your own! Go get it yourself."

I was stunned how suddenly it came. When I was almost losing hope of achieving my goal.
Anna had taken time off the procedures she was performing, to sympathize with me, and she said she was even worried about Paul's mental situation. She saw it coming, and had managed to do something a wife should not do: she tricked him. She made him believe almost all the equipment was with me, so there was no use for him to replenish stocks in Altana. The missing guns were on Terschilling.
Anna gave me several gifts.
First she gave me her savings: enough to continue produce ordinance, and provide food for my troops. I would not manage a lengthy campaign. Almost just as important - she sent half her trained nurses/surgeons with me. The male surgeons were mostly mobilized by van Ayla and now von Rabenhaupt.

******

The land was ravaged by fire long before the German attack, and looted. Savagery by the attackers may generate despair, but more often strengthening the feeling of us against them. The patriotic feel was high and even young boys wanted to join me, and I thought - why not? the Lords Resistance Army lcontinued to ravange central Africa for years by recruiting or actually kidnapping kids younger than teenager, and trained them to use the Kalashnikov, so why not me? Muskets are too heavy, but the repeating rifles I had with a practical range of 300 metres could be handled by kids, as well as women. Powered by Acetone and water-peroxide they could kill people at up to 500 elen. An el is a Frisian cubit, that makes 500 elen, about 300m. Greta and her friends were using the rifles, and could kill at 2000m, but that requires skill, and modern armies does only give such long distance rifles to specialists.
On calling volunteers, there was a suddenly loads of them. Two hundred young boys between 12 and 16. I felt like the pied-piper, but then the area from where this person whose body I was occupying, Maria von Arnsberg zu Siebenbergen, originated is not that far from the town called Hammeln, which once upon a time was cleared of rats, and later children. Paul had discounted the training rifles of light calibre when he went off, probably because we were short on ammo at the time. At least that is what I let him believe when I was becoming uncertain of him. . I knew better, as these rifles used peroxide, but I had a production of the same type of ammo with smokeless powder which gave more than enough penetrating power at 500 elen,( 300 m). Those equipped with those would be within range of cannon-balls, and stray musket-balls, and with a rate of fire that was almost like an AK 47.

My heavy artillery was on barges and boats, so I didn't bring them to the battle of Groningen , so when we had crushed the enemy there, we had only used the lightest pieces - the Congreve rockets and ten 4 inch guns.
From the refugees of towns that were still in the hand of the enemy, we also got some new adult recruits. Men that suddenly believed that victory was possible. I didn't want them at the front, but they were excellent labourers, and they could move the guns, and they could dig trenches faster than any of us women could. They also were very useful to drive the carts containing the shells, and they could use muskets with Minié type bullets moulded to fit the bore. .

I was still a bit irritated for being let-down of Carl von Rabenhaupt. I had helped him when he needed help, some years ago, still he let me down.

Back in Zwolle to re-stock, and then on to Deventer. Historians will disagree on the expression “female army”, because by now I had large following of men, mostly youngsters, but at least I had enough women sergeants, trained for a few years, and who knew how to shoot from hidden positions, to exploit the terrain. With weapons that don't produce smoke, you can do that, while the opponents would give away their location at once a shot was fired, so I was confident in the tactical capabilities of the core. The challenge would be the new ones.

My strategy was now to keep as close to the Ijsel as possible. Tactical constraints meant I had to be close to the artillery which was in constant readiness on the boats and barges. The untrained troopes would be no match to veteran forces, so I needed them mostly to stand guard on and near the river, and bolster the morals of my little core.

Deventer was lost in June to the German allies of Louis XVI, and was administrated by Maximilian Henry, while the next town in the Ijsel branch of the Rhine river, Zutphen was conquered about the same time. Deventer had been betrayed by the mayor. While Zutphen resisted almost two weeks. A very important difference was also that Zutphen had then a quite large garrison, while Deventer had mostly armed citizen, the famous Schuterij.
I found it strange that by now the Sun-kings glorious army hadn't started to move to re-take Kampen, or re-enforce Zutphen and Deventer. It would later turn out that Louis XIV had assumed that the Dutch were on their knees begging for peace, and had liberated POWs, and at the same time laid down completely unacceptable demands that amounted to converting the United Provinces of the Netherlands into a catholic country. The misunderstanding, and the fear of antagonising the written orders gave us a respite, and a usually resourceful Grand commander of the army Maréchal Turenne was for a short while in doubt at what to do. He had planned to help the German allies take Zwolle, but was stopped by the kings cousin Condé, who said that Zwolle would fall any-time, as all the other cities had, no point waste French lives for something the Germans Prince-Bishops would reap the benefits of, and they could live with a single town resisting within their area-
Wasn't the fortress at Maastricht still resisting, while they had taken almost all the eleven provinces, except Holland and Zeeland? It was important to concentrate on the main goal which was Zeeland and Holland. Then the news that Kampen had been lost was disregarded a while because of the imminence of the negotiations. Too many good generals in the same area, and an absent king who wanted to hold his hand on the steering-wheel was actually playing in in our favour. When Turenne heard that Deventer also fell, and there were rumours that the war of the two allies in the North had gone very bad, then he decided to send 50 000 men and take Zwolle and re-take Deventer and Kampen, but the political situation had changed. The Emperor of Austria, had declared war on France. He was more than anyone aware of the objectives of France was not so much the independent provinces of Netherlands, but Habsburg land, and thus Turenne had to comply with his king's command, to leave the Netherlands, and start to razing of Westphalia.

It was mostly an un-eventful trip. The best sharp-shooters were sent over the Ijsel during the night, and shot the messengers that the French sent with letter to their HQ. When they saw that they started to tear down the bridge over the Ijsel. Fine - that meant we did not have to put so many "men" on that bank. We were setting up the batteries, while I decrypted the messages. There was an eerie feeling in the air. We had arrived by the north-north-east, and not far from the road was a small hill with the gallows, and it was full of bodies. Crows and Ravens were picking the eyes out of the craniums. The stench was unbearable. The German have hung about 20 citizens. We were going to make them pay.

I was nervous, and I felt the need to pee. In order to ride I had made this skirt with legs, that allowed me to sit astride a horse, but with artificial petticoat so it looked like I was wearing a full dress. I was quite proud of the way to circumvent the promise I made to the former Grand Pensioner of Holland, and still be able to function. But it was a nuisance when I had to pee. I had to bend to the realities of life, and accept to ride with a so called amazon-saddle.

The girls wore these uniforms with hitched-up skirts, and leggings. Buckles kept the skirts up, and when we felt it was necessary for decency - they could unbuckle and go floor-length. They could therefore just squat instantly when required. A good combination unless you are on a horse.
I wish I had some of the rifle companies on horse that Paul had trained, but that were taken from me. A general is blind without riders skirmishing, and scouting ahead of the main column. I had a trick up my sleeve to counter this short-coming. Those with sharp eyesight would notice some weird birds flying during the day high above the ground. Elements of the enemy forces were very easy to distinguish as they had clothes with very bright colours. It was considered a necessity as the battlefields of the 17th century were covered with acrid smoke, and only very distinct uniforms made it possible to minimize the accidents that inevitably happen, and is called Friendly Fire. The mechanical birds were remotely guided by Greta, and she gave me regular updates on where the French had their checkpoints. Only once did they manage to free carrier pigeons, the other times they tried to send messengers by horse. .
I got the message recovered from the messengers. Two pigeons were also shot. The message they carried was coded, with the celebrated Vigenère cipher, also hailed as the uncrackable code, but what does that help, when those stupid guys used the same key as the one used to communicate with the Bishops, to encrypt all messages - so it was ridiculously easy to read even this short message.
"Dutch troops seen near Deventer. Probably from Zwolle"
Nothing new. That is the problem with "intelligence" in warfare. You never know if you can trust information, as it may be planted, or wrong because the enemy soldiers do not always manage to follow orders. You can only trust the information that is about you that you know is right or wrong, and even then it can be used to slip false intelligence through.
The next was to kill the enemy, and we started by sniping them. There is this challenge in war that you really don't want to hit civilians, unless you want to terrorise them. With countrymen inside the wall, it was obvious we needed to be more surgical than the US air-strikes in Iraq.
When the guns arrived with the boats we directed them at city gates- Two shots - one to adjust the barrel. the next hit the Northern gate. We then took the windmills to the North, assuming there would be few citizens there so close to the walls. The observes inside the mill died.
I talked to them before we set up the plan: a small group would attack North-western side supported by fire to keep the defenders low. We had to get wet in the moat, and then climb the glacis. On my raid of the secret documents in the ministry I came across a book with limited distribution – by a person named Vauban. It described how to make trenches and get close to forts. With my superior range and accuracy, some of those considerations were not necessary.
While planning our next move, the the enemy sent out a skirmishing party. Hundred men, and they must have seen with the spyglass that they were facing women, and only a thousand men, and no cavalry. On horse they raced on the road against our first line. They happened to go straight towards our best markswomen, equipped with rifles with 10 shots in their magazine, and they took pride in precise shooting, and not hit the horses. Horses were valuable.
Meanwhile our planning went ahead.
We had some elements of surprise - like hand-grenades and not the least - the flame-thrower or what some called Greek fire, to link it with something to classical teaching. These girls were not very educated, didn't care for references to bygone times, and we called it flame-thrower vlammewerper. The primitive fear of fire is the psychological advantage of that weapon.

Then there was a thing I had trained the toughest girls to do, each was associated with two less experienced, volunteers and together they executed it nicely.
They found some relatively safe place to weather the hailstorm of musket-ball, and then we concentrated fire on the section of the defences. Almost windless conditions, maybe a small southerly draft was perfect. When shooting the French created a dense cloud around them, that both gave away their position and created a smoke-screen for our advance. The next team to cross the no-man's land had grenade-launchers, or used slings to throw these cannisters further than girls normally can throw. Lobbing the grenades over the wall at a distance of up to two hundred paces was easy. Some of them had been manufacturing those cannisters, so they knew the power, and the dangers. The mechanism to fire these things was a great technological step ahead compared to the crude black-powder bombs used by all other armies. When the bombing of that section moved to some other part of the wall, they continued, and climbed the defences without a problem. The final objective was not yet reached. There is an older medieval wall on the inside of the more modern fort, but as my girls used the flame-thrower with great success on the western guard tower, the French had no stomach to continue. All their artillery was on this outer wall, to prevent easy capture by the people of the town. We joined those twenty brave ones, that captured the objective, and at the same time the German and French forces inside surrendered. There was new scenes of joy as the citizens that had suffered the attack in June, were now liberated. It was quite a shock to discover that there were close to a thousand defenders, and they were all appalled to have to surrender to women.
The mayor of Deventer Hendrik Nilant was apologetic about his quick surrender a month earlier. We arranged a quick referendum, and he was no longer Mayor of the city. I appointed a council, and they had one objective: arrange free election within a few days. Persons that had supported the rendition were excluded.

Our next objective was Zutphen. First of all it was the next town up the Ijsel, and the Ijsel was of strategic importance. Most goods are easier to transport on water than on muddy roads. My heaviest guns were transported on barges and ships. They were far too heavy for the muddy roads. With the ships came also more troops. Success had made more men dare to volunteer. The Countess kept her promise and more. She had even ordered Rabehaupt to concentrate on the main problem, which was the French, now the threat from Munster was over. These new recruits, and particularly their captains were more difficult to manage, and they thought they knew how to fight because they had been trained to fire a musket, but they were far too undisciplined, almost a liability. About half of them I had to send back to Kampen, which was a good thing there, as they participated in the defences of the city. French troops were quartered all over the occupied territories, and some enterprising captains tried to re-conquer the town. They certainly did not take into account that the Dutch defenders had now access to better weapons. One of our sharpshooters even managed to hit the barrels of black powder on a wagon - at the incredible distance of 2km. The wagon load set off fire on other wagons, and destroyed food and tents, and other supply.

Zutphen was packed with troops. A large regiment of Irishmen was quartered there, and they were ordered to move towards us. Of course we did not know that. We were short on cavalry to provide the screening required. Without cavalry a general is blind, my birds were down because of technical problems. So I improvised. I used what I had:some young boys riding around, and with strict orders to flee back to us when they saw something - anything. Fortunately they did follow that order, and only one got killed, and we now knew where at least some of the enemy was located.

On the river one of the three armoured riverboats was coming up. The "de Zwan" had one more feature that made it special: it had one of these extra tall masts, and on the top almost 100m off the ground was a "crow's nest" - a lookout point for one of the sailors. It was a tough climb up, and even tougher to stay there, but the reports I got from "de Zwan" was invaluable, and somehow the Irish regiment failed to notice it before it was too late. They died to a man, but the shooting had alerted the soldiers inside Zutphen and the XIIth cavalry regiment was mobilized, and they galloped out. As the lookout followed their advance, I could give orders to create a trap. We even got barbed wire from the boat. Rolls of barbed wire protected the ditches where our guys were hiding. Barbed wire is difficult to see, and the horse gets tangled in it, which is worse that a fixed obstacle, where a horse and the rider can see what it must avoid at all cost.

After this victory we made camp a bit further on, but re-used the barbed wire to help against surprise-attacks, and in the morning we took Zutphen much like we took Deventer, but with a lot more civilian casualty, as the bombing went on much longer. With what the French assumed was a lucky shot we hit two of the powder-towers, and with the stock gone, they didn't have much fire-power to defend themselves. The next round blew the gates open. These gates would have withstood prolonged hits with lead bullet. Even kegs of powder would have failed, but TNT filled grenades with proximity and impact fuses really blew their way. So they surrendered. Still - we almost lost it....

The French commandant had just surrendered, and we were about to occupy the city when a huge cavalry force was sighted. Some 30 thousand cavalrymen. The Frenchmen tried to grab the weapons they had just surrendered. Thanks again to a vigilant, who ordered the girl holding the flame-thrower into action. It was a massacre, but prompted by their own stupidity at trying to undo the surrender. Several building caught fire in the process. The guns on the "de Zwan" started to work, and stopped the advance of Turenne. Much discussion arose years later about what the French portrayed as the massacre of prisoners that had already surrendered, but my view of it was that it was a combination of unfortunate circumstances and the action of French commander that had not understood they had lost.

Regiments of Dragoons are the most powerful force in the army of the sun-king. A normal soldier on a horse is best at shock-attacks with lance or sabre, used efficiently to further round up an enemy in disarray. The hand-guns are only short-range weapons like pistols, and a standard manoeuvre is to shoot one pistol, and then the second before charging with a sabre. Dragoons on the other hand mostly used the horse for fast deployment, and then fight on foot where the musket can be reloaded. This was a whole army of dragoons. The bridge across the Ijsel was already up, so it was no immediate danger, but we had barely time to get the ones on the exposed West side to a safer position.

Only the armoured river-boats "de Niewe Tulp and "De Zwan" managed to get along, and we had to make do with whatever they managed to have on-board. I sent the Zwan towards the area where the Rhine river splits into Waal and Ijsel, and I was commanding the Ijsel-line forcing the French to attack, as they could still get some goods down the Meuse, but their main line back to France was cut-off.

At least there were some reinforcement coming by horse from the North. The guards checked that they were OK. I had to prioritize the emplacement of guns - to measure up angles and distances - get the rockets placed in the right locations.

Citizens had been pressed into carrying the ammunition off the barges containing supplies - One of them tripped in the darkness, and the little crate - which he was told to carry as if it contained eggs was dropped. It contained shock-sensitive fulminate fuses. Not a very big explosion, but a terrible loss for us, but most of all for the guy losing the box; he died, and several others were wounded. I happened to be on the esplanade, exercising my sad skills at sitting with both legs on one side of the gelding and my horse bolted. I didn't fall off, but I barely managed to hold on, as I lost hold of the reins, a beginners mistake.

A man on horse caught up with us, and he forced my mount to change direction, and his thoroughbred stallion was fast.
I was caught in the strong arms of one of this riders. I felt foolish, but done is done. At least my saviour was a gentleman.
"A dangerous evening to ride about, Madam"
"I have much to see to, and I was in a hurry- Your name Sir?"
"August Ambrosius van Hornes, Madam" , and added "Ritmeester (cavalry captain) of Hornes regiment of Groeningen – leader of 200 men"
He reeked of sweat, after a long ride, his accent was cute, and softer – that is with less of the sounds generated at the back of the throat. Obviously not from Holland, or Friesland, still a native speaker. I was very happy to have reinforcement, but would he accept orders?
"And you?"
I woke up from an almost dreamlike state. He seemed not to know who I was.
"Lieutenant General Maria Zevenhuis - leader of too few, and whoever wants to win"
His eyes showed he was a bit startled, and then he said
"I am your man"
The guy was obviously a born leader despite his young age. He managed to get his men to quiet down, as they were shouting that he had made a quick conquest. My whole body felt like on fire. I never was going to learn. Just like with Johannes I was again subject to the whims of my hormones.

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

The moon was in its last quarter. That is not a romantic information for lovers, it is just critical information that the night was pitch-black until 3 hours before dawn. I couldn't sleep. The last days had been tough, so I was thoroughly beat by the ride from Groenlo to here. I came too late to really participate in the reconquest of Coevorden, and it was strict orders and direct orders by the Countess of Friesland, that I join as soon as possible the southern army, and put myself at the service of Lieutenant General van Zevenhuis, who had paid the cost of mobilizing this unit, and giving me the opportunity to show myself off.
My brother hadn't paid for this commission. I got it because I managed to get access to the Countess, and as a noble I didn't want to enlist with the more common riders. I managed to get in contact with Lt Geneal von Rabenhaupt. I showed my orders to join Lt-general M van Zevenhuis. He seemed a bit flustered, and mumbled something, and sent me towards Ommen, and finally I was here

I heard the explosion and saw the horse running with the woman trying to hold it. It was relatively easy for me to get a grip, and save her, although it was partially instincts. I have been horseback riding since I got pants at the age of 5. She was a bit flustered. She was young and really a beauty. I thought she might be a daughter of a rich tradesman. Her mount was a hackney, and not a thoroughbred.
I was therefore stunned when she turned out to be this Zevenhuis , leader of this madness - attack the French when all Dutch generals were retreating.

I had mixed feelings of discovering the gender of my commander, but I have to admit she was a beauty. White teeth, no foul smell from her mouth (Yes we had been close enough), light blond hair.
She assigned some quarters for me and my men, showed me the remaining French prisoners, explaining tersely that there had been a misunderstanding of the terms of surrender, and most of the prisoners died.
She then said she went to have some rest - although a force of 3000 French dragoons were on the west-side of the river. They were probably waiting for reinforcement and artillery. 3000 dragons. That was 5 times the forces at Miss Zevenhuis' disposal.

It was well past midnight and I couldn't sleep. I saw here face when I closed my eyes, and I had to concentrate on my first battle. I had not been blooded yet. I walked over to the city hall, which was the HQ. I was stopped by the female guards. I explained who I was.
"Let him in", I heard a gentle female say.
"Mijnheer van Hornes - you are the most welcome, but at some time you must let us do the planning. The Frenchies are on the move, probably planning a night-attack, or they maybe try to cross the Ijsel. It's a bold move, but it requires stealth, and they don't know that we know... "
It was van Zevenhuis that spoke. She introduced some women. Five of them, and said shortly that they had each a specific task- of which one was to start light-grenades every five minutes. She asked me specifically to have my men calm their mounts as the guns were going to startle them if they had to be fired. I was curious, but I did as she told, and when I came back I joined to see the activity.
It was more of a rocket than a gun-shot, but it was fired from one of the guns on the square, and over the roof-tops. The rocket had a strong glow, but high up there something happened because it really shone, and was up in the air for a very long time. A second shot was directed to the south-west, and a third to the north-west. Rifle-shot were heard, and shouts.
"Sector 7 Alkmaar 12kel " "Sector 2 Dokkum 6kel "Sector 3 Texel 5kel"

General Zevenhuis just was present. These women seemed to know what they were doing. A young boy came running with a message that she read. She sent him off. She then explained while showing on a map.
"They have tried that night-time move, to cross the river here, and here. We have anticipated that, and let them through, into a trap formed by barbed wire.”
“Barbed wire?”
“ Eh” – she searched for a word, “could call it Frisian horses. These are worse. As a cavalryman you are going to hate it”
I knew about Frisian horses, and I hated them. Spiked stakes bundled, to tear up the belly of the horses. I hated them. But she was right. Barbed wire was worse.

“We caught them in time, and are shelling them. Sector is the location on a grid. Alkmaar and so-on are codes - the last information is the distance. It is a modified system from what the Finns used against the Soviets during the Winter-war"

I had no clues what the nations like Finns and the Soviets were in this world, nor had I heard of a winter-war. Most military operations were limited to summer due to the cold. Wait - I had heard of Finns in association with the Swedes. So rather than totally exposing my ignorance I asked.
"What is kel - I have not heard that - is that keel (throat)?"
"No! we measure in Groningen cubits (in Dutch el plural: ellen) and kel is a contraction of thousand, in greek kilo - ellen"
"So 12kel is 24 thousand feet -... that is 4½ mile ... So you are almost shooting to Alkmaar! "
I said, a bit stunned, as I knew that these guns hardy if ever were used on distances above a mile
"Captain van Hornes is good at calculus, but you under-estimate the distance to Alkmaar" she said just as someone shouted:
"'Sector 7 Alkmar reduce to 6 kel 6Bourtange and increase "
"Sector 7 Alkmaar reduced to 6 kel aiming at 6Bourtange - asking for backup"
"They are shooting with something that is a bit like grapeshot, only it spreads out not here, but there - and kills everyone within 200 el" Maria explained while we watched.
"Sector 2 Dokkum - enemy retreating"
"Sector 2 Dokkum - Cease fire - move up to sector 3 Sinterklaas 7 kel"
The crews knew their job obviously.
A fourth gun was turned around, and started to fire - This one was manned by a male crew, but one woman supervised. I now understood why those guns were located at the city centre and not on the ramparts. Many more things surprised me, besides the gender of the crew members, that the guns did not create a gigantic cloud of acrid smoke, although the smell was distinctive, and they did not clean the barrels, and they were just pulling a cord to fire. Four women were doing something with the bullets. I learned later that it was the setting of the ignition-timers. Ever so often a new rocket was sent in the air, and gave light to the spotters – men and women reporting on the presence of enemy.
"They are all retreating" was shouted - and some new positions were given. - and then Maria gave orders to cease fire, and send scouts

The scouts came back at dawn with some Frenchmen. Several of them had terrible wounds. Some with limbs torn off. I went out there in daylight and I saw piles of dead soldiers and horses. I became sick. Maria Zevenhuis did not laugh at me, but praised me and said I was human, with a heart, which is very important. She said: In war you remember the names of generals, but the families weep those to us nameless that are lost, even when the victory is great.
The French tents were still standing - looting of them started, but some soldiers were assigned to recover the documents, and we tried to limit looting by organising it, and dragging corpses into heaps, and trying to record names of the fallen. Thousand soldiers and horses were found dead in a small area. Maria also spotted something she called a UXB - Unexploded bomb, and she gave orders to clear quite a large area, while waiting for a crew with explosives to make it explode.

What impressed me maybe most was that she seemed to have no problems to read the encrypted military correspondence- she said: “Those guys are using the same key as we got from the Germans, so they are failing on elementary security, which is to never re-use a key.”
She came back a bit pale: she said the French troops seemed to include the French Maréchal Turenne. After some search - we found a body, that could fit, and in the bushes we found a staff - the symbol of the office. We didn't know what Turenne looked like, so it was an assumption, but we started to move the body that was completely stiff, and in an unnatural position.

We heard a noise and from the bushes a bit further away rose two French dragoon, one of them aiming at us with a musket.
"You have lost - surrender" I shouted while I moved in front of Maria to protect her..
The problem is that frightened men are not rational, and they seemed to be in some kind of daze. I thought my last hour had come, but I was in a way happy it was while doing something manly such as protecting an attractive woman, that obviously was destined to be remembered.
A shot tore me out of my thoughts of death, and I had thought it was me getting hit, but it was the guy aiming, that was hit in the middle of the body. His body armour was no protection. Maria shouted in French to the remaining Dragoon:
"Surrender - if you want to live" - which he did.
Name - and rank : Bérenger la Forge. - private and he could confirm that the body was Turenne, killed by a fragment of metal that had cut his jugular artery. One of the thousands that died in the middle of the night.
Maria said then something really weird:
"So Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne - you did not die in Alsace in the midst of winter, but here in a muddy field in the summer night - still dead is dead" and then she said a bit loader: "Let's give him a reformed burial - you once was baptised in our church, and I think only convenience made you swear obedience to anti-Christ"

Mistress van Zevenhuis was obviously anti-catholic, and that tore my heart. Although I wasn't as devout as the rest of my family, I was still respectful.

As we got back to town, there was news that Carl von Rabenhaupt, and the main Frisian army was within an hours march of Zutphen. They had heard the thunder during an otherwise quite night, and wondered. Maria told me that Willhelm of Orange was stuck behind the water line - the flooded areas towards Holland. She seemed to get some intelligence for somewhere, as it would prove to be accurate. But we still did not know where the French army was, and what did the commander in chief Turenne do here with "only" 10 000 men?
Maria corrected me - she said:
"There are about 10 000 dead on the field, but I suppose that several thousand managed to get away. The documents recovered seemed to indicate he had up to 20 000 men - and that is a normal army. It is difficult to move the main army, while making sure the enemy does not wake up right behind you. One thing is certain: the top French officers are better than any men at similar level we have here"
I felt stung by that last comment, but she seemed oblivious.
"Ludowik of France has chosen them, though he has outstanding issues with them. Condé led an insurrection against him. Turenne was of the wrong faith, yet faithful to the crown. These guys have proven their worth, their competence as military leaders. The level below is more a mixed bunch - people that have bought their promotion, and have most of all a noble lineage as the only reference to get the job"
I felt a sting there too. Most certainly the right birth made a man more suited to command. I don't know if I like this girl!
She also had no respect for Carl von Rabenhaupt when he arrived. She talked to him as an equal, and I noticed that Carl now did consider her an equal too. He later admitted he was most impressed by her swift recapture of Zutphen.

It was a privilege to be present when they discussed, particularly on the road towards the south. We still had no clue where the enemy was, but Maria claimed they just had to move south. She listed:
"One: They must assume we intend to relieve Maastricht which was our only fortress that resists.
Two: After recovery of the Ijsel - they have only one way out of the Netherlands, and that is towards the south, as we have now blocked the road to Westphalia, and they may use a number of points across the Wall, but Arnhem is the logical point, as they could use the bridge of that city, and avoid crossing where they waded across a bit earlier. Condé received quite a serious wound at the ford, so I don't think he is fond of the place. Even if they control Arnhem and other cities, we will blow up the bridges, so this humongous army will need several days to cross the Rhine.
They may try somewhere else, but I have provided the places like Kampen, and Deventer with artillery that punches them at a distance where they can not retaliate - which is extremely frustrating, and will delay them until we arrive. Crossing the Ijsel branch of the Rhine will also take take days, and it leads them not directly towards France
Finally: they have to meet us in battle, as they cannot return home without a good fight. the prince of Condé is still officially in disgrace - as is the case of the the Duke of Piney-Luxembourg. "
She looked at me and said: "These are men that are the best generals of Europe at this time"
(She use the Dutch word man - not mens which means human )
"I just hope Arnhem is not one bridge too far for us" she muttered.
Again one this weird things she said.

Historical note: I have tried to weave a fictional story that includes many historical persons, maybe too many. The source material on the internet about Louise Marguerite de Bréville / Louis de Préville, is not abundant. I have only found these two references :
http://www.opex360.com/2012/03/08/louise-margueritte-de-brev...
and
http://www.confidentielles.com/r_14256_decouvrez-louise-marg...
I have not found any articles in English; sorry... I suppose you will now find one entry linked to Bigclosetr.us :-)