The return of the fallen king

Chapter 6: One-day march

<<''War is the greatest plague that can afflict humanity, it destroys religion, it destroys states, it destroys families. Any scourge is preferable to it.''>>

-– Martin Luther

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It was a bright spring day, the flowers were in blossom, and birds could be seen flying through the air, singing.

This lovely scenery, however, failed to capture the attention of the men going through it, who soon ignored it and destroyed it with their erratic noises. The horses' hooves pounded the ground as the soldiers marched in line through the spring countryside. As the troops marched in order with their shields held high, their armor clanged and jingled against each other. The soldiers' noses were overwhelmed with the stench of horse sweat and leather, but they knew that their task was more essential than their own demands.

Their mission was to safeguard the king, and they will complete it.

The troops' perseverance was shared by their liege Conradin, who was marching along with his knights in the convoy's middle; he didn't say anything since he was too preoccupied with what needed to be done.

It would be a long voyage before arriving in Prague, the capital of the kingdom of Bohemia, and the starting point for Conradin's expedition to recapture his realm. The sun had been gone for hours when the darkness of the night descended. Conradin called a halt to the march and ordered his army of 300 knights to set up camp.

The troops camped on flat territory, allowing the guards to clearly detect any enemy movement that could compromise the camp's protection.

They'd pitched their tents, lighted fires, and were settling in for the evening. They were getting ready to relax and refuel for the next day's march. It was a clear night with the moon and stars, and the knights were relaxing in the serene and peaceful surroundings. Conradin couldn't help but notice how his guards were feeling. After a long day of marching, the knights needed a moment of respite before returning to their duty.

The camp was alive with laughing and the aroma of food cooking. The knights could finally unwind and let go of the stress they had gathered throughout the day.

Conradin caught sight of his three retainers with the corner of his eye. They approached him and bowed, and Conradin nodded, allowing them to sit beside him by the fire. Maletta was the first to speak up, inquiring about the next steps. ''Exactly, your highness, what compelled you to seek assistance from the bohemian king? What do you think will persuade him to lend us some gold?''

Conradin responded to his retainer's first question: "Because it is the nearest king who is not outright hostile to us and who may have enough in the treasury to accept our request."

He then went on to say, ''In response to your second question, I must explain that during our march, I believe I discovered something that will persuade him to approve our request: the duchy of Swabia.''

These final comments caused the three men to drop their jaws. They wasted little time after the initial shock to persuade their liege to reconsider: ''But my liege, that is your only possession at hand; please reconsider.'' Corrado Capace stated as he was, all in all , correct.

His titles were King of Sicily, King of Jerusalem, and finally, Duke of Swabia; the first was usurped by Manfred and then by Charles; the Kingdom of Jerusalem was essentially nonexistent, controlling only some coastal cities surrounded by Muslim lands and with few men to man the walls, so only the duchy of Swabia was effectively his fief.

''What should I think about it? You don't realize that if I fail, I will not return to Germany like a beaten dog; I will either succeed or perish in the attempt. In the worst-case scenario, I will have no heir by blood, so why should I care about the identity of the man who would rule my duchy after my death?''

In that moment, neither Galvano, Maletta, nor Capace possessed the answers that could quell the young liege's concerns. Instead, they could only lower their gaze, their thoughts turning inward, as they stared into the crackling flames tended to by a few diligent servants.

Sensing the lack of words to bridge the divide, Conradin took the initiative to speak once more. "Since we find ourselves at a loss for conversation," he began, "I bid you all good night."

"Good night, Your Majesty," the three retainers replied in unison, their voices carrying a sense of respect and loyalty.

As he retreated into the privacy of his tent, Conradin's countenance shifted from its composed demeanor to one marked by unease and doubt. He concealed this inner turmoil from his loyal retainers, not wishing to diminish their faith in him as he grappled with his own internal conflict.

Throughout the night, Conradin lay awake, wrestling with a profound question that weighed heavily on his mind. Was it truly worth sacrificing his native fief for a lost nation, embarking on a perilous journey with an uncertain outcome? These troubling thoughts tormented the young king, amplifying his sense of worry.

In life, every individual faces a momentous decision, one that may be fraught with difficulty and pain. Conradin was no exception, and this choice he faced was a pivotal one, carrying the weight of his family's legacy. He did not desire to part with the duchy, but it seemed like a sacrifice he was compelled to make. Whatever decision he ultimately made, he was resolved to carry it out and confront the consequences, for that was the burden of leadership and the legacy he bore.

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