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WITH THE FLOW By Geneva In Bohemia a young Prussian soldier is changed by a Gypsy magic spell into woman to escape capture. In return she has to help rob a nobleman. The robbery does not go as planned but things work out for the best. START Prussia, 1757 Horst woke up feeling that his head was several sizes too big. Not only that, it was being hit by a mallet, wielded by someone that seemed to be working from the inside of his skull. Adding to that, there was a racket in the background, people talking loudly, and above everybody else, an especially strident voice adding to the din, someone shouting what sounded like orders. Each noise produced an accompanying stab of pain in his head. He tried to get up, but with his pounding head he gave up and allowed himself to slump back. It was not to last. He felt the bench, or whatever it was he was lying on, upended and he was momentarily weightless, only for gravity to catch up with him again a fraction of a second later when he fell on something hard. The floor, he deduced. At least it gave him some reference as to which way was up. Someone was shouting again, and from the bad breath, the spray on his face and the unbearable pain in his head, the person was next to him, perhaps even talking to him. He forced himself to crack open his eyes and saw a mustachioed, bearded, warty, pockmarked, ugly face right in front of him, a red face, a shouting red face. Then from somewhere an arm appeared and grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him to his feet. Horst blinked his eyes again and looked round at his surroundings, aware that they were not the usual confined quarters of his small cot above the carpenter's shop. Now this annoying person in front of him was telling him to stand straight and he surmised hazily that if he did so the voice might stop. To his horror, Horst saw, as he straightened up, that he was surrounded by other young men, some laughing at him, but others looking more sympathetic, some looking as miserable as he felt. "What has happened?" he croaked through a dried throat. "Where am I?" "You are in the barracks of the Imperial Prussian Army. By order of the Emperor Frederic you are drafted into the Prussian Army," said the annoying person. "What?" Horst shrieked, wincing at his own voice. "I am a carpenter's apprentice. I was just out for a drink at the tavern." "Stand straight," the man shouted. "That does not matter. You are now conscripted into the army of Prussia." Horst peered at the man and saw he was in a uniform. He looked around. So were some of the other men. Now the voice was telling them all to get outside and as the men started shuffling outside Horst thought it better to follow them out into the early dawn. He shivered in the cold of a misty morning, A glow in the east showed the sunrise was still an hour or so off. Ridiculous! Why didn't they wait until it was properly light? Yet another person, sitting on some horse before the shivering men, was shouting at them too. This one was dressed in an even fancier uniform. Even his horse was dressed fancier. Horst slowly realized this was not a bad dream, that it was reality. Yes, this idiot on the horse was telling them they were now going to be part of the glorious Prussian Army. That the training would make men of them and they would become trained, proud soldiers. Horst could barely get his thoughts together even to feel shock. He had absolutely no wish to become a soldier and even through the fog of his mind he was apprehensive. Wasn't a soldier's life dangerous? Weren't there long marches over bogs, thickets, and dry dusty roads? Then weren't there guns and cannon, swords and other sharp dangerous objects? Now another uniformed character was ordering them to start running. Horst squinted against the sun. There did not seem to be any sensible reason why they should run, or even move, for that matter. Maybe another lie down in the rising sun would be a better idea. But the idiot was screaming at them again and half-heartedly the men began to shuffle along. Apparently that was still not good enough and with louder screams from the man they began running getting faster and faster. Horst still could not see straight and as he jogged along it felt like someone was still driving a nail into his head at every step. He tried to dawdle, but someone, the first one who had woken him up, began swinging a stick at his back and buttocks so he was forced to move. After about an hour, he saw that they had returned to exactly the same place. That convinced him he was in the company of some lunatics. Why bother with all of that running around if it just got you back to the same place? However, pain in his chest and the agonizing stitch at his side had made him almost forget his head and he just collapsed on the grass among the rest of the groaning, panting men. He had barely got his breath back when he was being shouted at again. Whatever hell he had landed in seemed to be populated by uniformed demons. Next, they were herded into a line and driven into some huts. Someone was throwing clothes at him and in no time at all time his arms were filled with increasing amounts of shirts, breeches, coats, hats, boots, gaiters, then later, bags and pouches. Now staggering under the load were being ordered into another building and they shuffled into it in a file. There was a smell of food in the air, but Horst was halfway between it making him nauseous, and hungry. He wanted to protest, but the thought of being faced with that bad- breathed mustachioed monster made him think twice, and back in the barracks, he stripped off all of his old stained worn clothing and donned the new stuff. He was slightly mollified to see that it was quite well made, and certainly cleaner that he had worn for quite while. The only blemish, he could see, was a hole in the chest of the coat. Patched quite expertly, but a hole nevertheless. He gulped. The previous occupant had obviously been in the way of a bullet or even worse, a bayonet. They were screaming and shouting at him again. This time it was something called an inspection which involved lining up in the cold air and standing even straighter while someone again shouted at them, something about obeying orders and training. To reinforce the message that this was not an option, the idiot on horseback pointed to a flogging post. Horst gulped. These people were mad, but serious. By this time he was feeling dreadfully thirsty and even hungry, and, the shouting over, they formed yet another line and filed into a hall filled with rough tables. Someone at the end, dressed in a dirty uniform, was dishing up a kind of mush to the soldiers as they passed. At Horst's turn he peered at the stuff. It looked like a kind of cooked grain, with even some chunks of meat in it. He stuck a finger in it and tasted it. He had eaten worse. There was even a barrel that soldiers were dipping into. It smelled like beer, but on tasting it he decided it was watered down a bit. At least it was drinkable, but not so strong to produce any effect. Even after he had finally worn off the alcoholic haze of the first hours in the barracks, the next few days and weeks were a bit of blur, with the lack of sleep, the continual drilling and weapons training, and the shouting. The army seemed to be a haven for bullies. One in particular seemed to have an endless supply of foul-mouthed remarks, as he commented adversely on the recruits' ancestry, both human and non human, their past, present and future sexual habits, their lack of brainpower, and their non-existent skills. They had barely given him a gun, a long barreled musket, a supply of musket balls and a powder container before began to hate the smell of the gunpowder smoke. His first attempts at firing had only menaced the flocks of crows that frequented the barracks. At first the birds did not take it personally, but in a day or two they recognized Horst and began to attack him whenever he appeared. Finally, after a week of this the birds had a change of mind and flew off with a loud cawing and flurries of black wings whenever he appeared. There they sat in the trees round the barracks grounds, just out of musket range, cawing and fluttering in raucous but impotent protest. At least, after some days, his aim improved so that if any enemy were foolhardy enough so stand within ten paces of him they might get some injury. To his own squad's relief, he had also become less of a threat to them. The drilling and complex wheeling tactics that Frederic had adopted for the musketeers did not allow erratic shooting. He actually began to feel better with the regular diet and the exercise. Like him, most of the other recruits were conscripts, most taken into the army unwillingly, some more or less willingly in order to avoid some threatened less acceptable alternative. After a month of this they had supposedly learned all that was necessary. Horst stood in a line with the others while some general on a white horse paraded up and down in front of them. He then made an announcement made that they were now ready to join the rest if the army as it made its way south to invade Austrian territory. The area called Bohemia would be first. Horst had never thought of Bohemia. It was some foreign place 'down there', south of Prussia, even south of Bavaria, where they didn't even speak German. This whole business was confusing enough anyway. He had heard that in this war not only were the Prussians fighting the Austrians, but the British and the French, Swedes and God knows who else were also in on it. International politics was very confusing! Oh well, at least they fed him well and even supplied clothing. Still, if someone began shooting at him that would be a different matter. The next day, up even before the early dawn, they began their march south. Their regiment was to join the rest of Frederic's army as it prepared to invade Bohemia. As usual, Horst's appearance was accompanied by a mad eruption of the neighborhood crows. They wheeled above the men, then settled in final triumph in the trees as Horst's regiment marched out to the rattles of a pair of drums played by some stripling on a dappled horse. The drums were fitted to the harness on each side of the animal and the drummer would rattle and bang on them with a couple of sticks. Supposedly they were to march in time to the beat but it was almost impossible with the rough track and the fine drizzle that had plagued them since they started. Close to evening on the second day they had struggled up a steep hill and the sergeant ordered Horst to help unload the drums from the horse. With all the drizzle and the mud underneath, Horst had trouble with the damp slippery buckles and soon the sergeant was at his back shouting at him. He became more flustered, and fumbled even more with the greasy leather. He had got them almost unhitched when the impatient sergeant lost his temper. "Stand and face me, " he shouted. Obediently Horst did so, but the drums now began to slide off the horse's back in the loosened harness. When the impatient sergeant snatched at one, his feet slid in the mud, dragging the whole harness. The other drum flipped over the horse's back and landed squarely over his head, where the brass fitting that held the decorations on his fancy hat easily punctured the thin leather drum skin. So, the drum slid over his shoulders and further to his chest, trapping his arms. The extra weight knocked his feet from him in the slippery ground, while the horse, freed from the drums, anxious to get to her oats, and impatient with the ways of men, kicked the drum with her rear hooves. Before Horst could stop it, the drum began to roll, with the sergeant trapped in its shell. A rear-guarding troop making its way up the hill watched in amazement as the shouting drum- encased sergeant rolled down the gravelly path, bouncing from stone to stone, uttering a spate of expletives. They hastily cleared the way, wondering if this was some new instrument of war devised by the Emperor Frederic to mow down or frighten the Austrians. Or worse perhaps, a method of rapid sergeant delivery. The next day, to the sound of only one drum, they set out again minus the sergeant, who had been sent back to the barracks for recovery. After about another half day they crested a hill, to see the rest of Frederic's army. Horst was amazed at the size of the army. There were thousands of men, not to mention the enormous numbers of hangers-on, camp followers and even a sizeable coterie of strumpets. The size of the army made him feel better. Surely no enemy could stand up to this! It also helped that Frederic was thought to be a skilled confident general, He mentioned it to Jacob, a conscript like himself, and a former farm worker, who he had become friendly with. Jacob gave a humorless grin through bad teeth. "Yes, there are a lot of us, but how many will the Austrians have?" ............. About the same time, some days further south, in Bohemia, a Gypsy wagon rolled into the small encampment. The driver, Tamas, was a man of about sixty or so perhaps, with a white beard and a face so lined that it was difficult to determine his age properly. He gave a broad grin and a wave, stretched to relieve his cramped muscles and slowly dismounted. He embraced the woman rushing to meet him, then the man at her side. "It's nice to see you again, Stefania, and you too, Artur," said the older man, as his son and his wife embraced him. "Oh, you remember Stefania's mother, Mira?" said Stefania. Tamas dutifully embraced her as well. "Lovely to have you with us again, father," Stefania smiled. "Maybe you can stay a bit longer with us this time. After all, we are your only family now." "Oh, you know I am a bit of a wanderer, but it will be nice to play with my grandchildren for a week or so. Or longer," he added hastily when he saw Stefania's exasperated face. "Maybe I can help you out with some things too." "Children," Stefania called, "come and meet your grandfather! First, this is Zsofia, then Luca, Kato, and the youngest, Karoly." The four children had been watching, at first hesitant and unsure of the stranger, until they saw their parent's welcomes. Tamas kissed each of the unresisting girls in turn, but simply ruffled his hands through the boys' hair when they squirmed under him. The Gypsies led Tamas to their own wagon. It was one of a half dozen or so set in a clearing in the woods. Through the thin trees to the south the pretty Bohemian countryside opened up. "And how are things here, Artur?" "Not so bad. I actually work with a farmer here. The harvest is coming up and he needs some help. I actually think we could settle here, but yet, you know how it is. You are a good example. After a few months in someplace you would get itchy feet and want to be off on your travels again. We can earn quite a bit too, with that old spell book Stefania has." "You are being careful with the book, I hope? People are distrustful of magic." Stefania's face became suddenly serious. "Oh yes! My mother warns me well about how, and when, to use it, and so far there have been no awkward questions. I mostly use it along with some herbs that I collect. Maybe the herbs have some effect also. Sometimes I tell my patients to go off and pray at some church too, which helps to keep us in their good graces. The church can take the credit, and they welcome the donations." "How about the people round about?" Artur shrugged. "Oh, a mixed reaction to our presence. I wondered if there would be a problem with us being Gypsies, and from Hungary originally, but, as I said, that local farmer has been very tolerant. Others not so much, but we try to stay out of their way. Of course, occasionally Stefania treats the poorer people's illnesses for free, and that helps too to get us accepted, but in some ways I miss the wandering life. I don't know about the other Gypsy families here." 'How about the landowner?" "He doesn't mind us either. He's an Austrian nobleman. The land has been in the family for about a hundred years. Some ancestor was given it after the Austrians drove out the old Bohemian nobility a hundred or so years ago, or so they tell me. In fact, Stefania once treated his daughter for an illness." "Yes, "said Stefania, " I could have used the book, but I used some herbs instead so I didn't have to risk using the book. Fortunately she has had no problems since." Tamas stroked his beard. "You know there is some trouble brewing? Maybe it is a good time to be careful. I have heard that the Prussians are thinking about invading Bohemia, so there could be fighting between them and the Austrians. That might lead to another change. The Prussians are said to be well organized." Artur shrugged." Nothing we can do about that, only to hope it doesn't affect us." Later that evening they went out for a walk. "So that's the castle," said Tamas, looking up to the hill. "Yes, quite impressive too, isn't it?" They studied the castle for a few minutes. It was square, with a central tower, overlooking the river. It was surrounded by a moat as well. A tributary stream had been diverted so that it flowed round the castle, although, with the slope of the land, part of the moat was held up by an embankment. "It looks well situated. Is it well defended." "Oh, I don't know. There are two old cannon at the gates, but I'm sure they haven't been fired in donkey's years. The baron keeps only a few of his own guards under a sergeant-at arms around him, but there is a detachment of the Austrian army in the village." Tamas stood for a while looking at the castle, stroking his beard slowly. "Well off, is he?" Artur looked at him slyly. "You know, if this were the old days, I would say that you are trying to figure out a way in." Tamas just shook his head. "Oh, just past habits, I suppose. If you have done that most of your life it is difficult to get out of the habit." Artur grinned. "On the other hand, there are rumors that the baron has quite a bit of money in his treasury. He doesn't flaunt his wealth, but any emergency and he appears to be able to lay his hands on money. He must earn quite a bit from the rents of his lands. This is all good farming country." Tamas pursed his lips in thought. "The question is, how to find, it wherever it is hidden, and then get it out. Is there anytime there are a lot of people around? Oh yes, and how to get away safely. Gypsies like us would be under immediate suspicion." "Well," said Artur, " for the first question, every year, around mid August, there is a fair for all the employees in his lands, and it's held in the open area over there in front of the castle. They get people coming from all over. There are booths with sellers, and the usual crowd of magicians, fireeaters, dancers, musicians and so on. Last year Stefania even set up a booth for fortune telling, and it did well. But the baron's servants are careful, even then they keep people out of the castle proper so it would be difficult to find the money vault. "And how to get away? I suppose we just pick up and leave immediately after." Tamas gave his son a pleased look. "It looks like you have given it some thought too." "Well, I learned it all from you." Artur thought for a few seconds then grinned. "Why don't we give it a try? Do you have any ideas?" Tamas scratched his head. "Well, first of all, we would need a way of getting in the castle, but you say it is well guarded. So it would be best if we had someone inside who would be able to snoop around. Get us a plan of the castle and even find if it would be worth our while. Some chambermaid might be good, but maybe the village ones would be too afraid of the consequences, and they wouldn't trust Gypsies like us anyway. Does the baron have any weaknesses?" "How do you mean?" asked Stefania. "He is healthy but now getting on and is a widower. I have heard that he is a bit eccentric. His daughter, the one I cured, is married and lives in Vienna. His son, called Philippe, is a bit of a waster. He has an eye for the pretty village girls. He often invites some of them to his castle. You can guess what for." Tamas stroked his beard. "That might be a way. So if we were able to recruit some pretty girl, who didn't mind being the object of Philippe's lust, temporarily, I mean, it might help us get some information on the interior of the castle. She might even help us in the actual robbery." Stefania shook her head. "We will have to think about it. I can't think of anyone who might help us here." ............. After several days march the Prussian army had crossed into Bohemia, heading to capture Prague, they had been told. The army had camped for the night near a small lake. Horst had looked forward to resting his weary feet after the day's long march, but he had barely finished the evening meal when some officer rode up on horseback. Horst shook his head in dismay. The officer was giving commands to a sergeant and pointing to them. That was bad. Usually when some officer had a bright idea it meant work or discomfort for someone else, usually the lowest ranks. The officer had barely trotted off when their new sergeant began shouting and with a groan, Horst and those sitting at the fire reluctantly raised themselves. Horst listened with annoyance to the orders. They were being ordered to go on a patrol, somewhere to the west. Apparently an Austrian army had been sighted and they needed some information. They reserved their grumbling for later, when the sergeant would be out of earshot. Collecting their muskets, they formed up into a file and began to trudge along the narrow path. A signpost had some unpronounceable name, and Horst could not make out the distance indicated. About an hour or so down the path they had seen nothing suspicious. Some of the men had even climbed up a small hill to spy the landscape, but there was no sight of another army. They saw quite a number of peasants, but these showed no sign of wanting to be liberated and usually took to their heels at the first sight of the soldiers. Eventually they came across a group of wagons, with some swarthy people sitting round a fire. "Gypsies!" Horst heard someone say. Both groups eyed each other warily. "Ho there," the sergeant said. "Have you seen any Austrian soldiers?" One of the Gypsies shook his head. He answered in German. "No, this is a peaceful area." He squinted at the soldiers' uniforms. " I take it you are not Austrians then?" "No, we are Prussians. We have come to free you from the Austrians." "Ahh," said the Gypsy. "Yes, freedom will be good." That was the first Horst had heard about their purpose. He heard another of his troop snort in skepticism. "Who owns it, this land?" "Baron Heinrich. He lives in a castle a few minutes or so along the road." The Gypsy pointed further in the Prague direction. "Your name, Gypsy?" asked the sergeant. "I am Artur, and this is my wife Stefania. Her mother Mira." He pointed to an older woman tending the fire. Stefania watched the soldiers carefully in case of any trouble, but they did not look like a threat. All looked quite young, and also very fed up and weary. She guessed that they were a group of new recruits. "Would you like to warm yourself at the fire?" she asked. As a light rain had started the men did not need a second invitation, and when they huddled around the fire she offered them some fresh water too. There was one young man that took her eye. He was of average height, with fair hair and blue eyes. "You look very young. You joined the army not so long ago?" she asked. "Well, in way, "he admitted. I was a carpenter's apprentice until I was careless. I got drunk in a tavern and there must have been a group going round forcibly recruiting any men they could find to fill the ranks in the army. I woke up in barracks, so now I am a soldier." "You wanted to be a soldier?" "Well, no, but at least the army feeds me and clothes me, maybe better than I got as an apprentice.I have done no fighting yet. I hope we can avoid it." In a few minutes the sergeant called the men up and they began to march back along the path they had come. Horst even gave Stefania a wave in goodbye. ........... In the castle, Baron Heinrich read the letter from the emperor with growing apprehension. It told of an anticipated invasion by the Prussians. His family had been established here for over a hundred years ever since the former Bohemian nobleman had been taken to Prague town square, publicly executed, and his estate confiscated by the Austrians. Now these Prussians would be along and if they won he and his son might be driven out. An idea took his head. He would defend his castle to the limit, as befitted his family's rank and history. The castle was nicely situated on a knoll, but with a stream that ran most of the way around, and which had been widened and dug out some decades before to form a moat. There was a well right in the castle courtyard for water and his storerooms were full of food so he could withstand a siege. But no doubt the Prussians would have brought their cannon along too. If they had no opposition they could soon pound his castle into rubble. He needed something that could be fired back. Then his eyes fell on the two old cannon in the castle courtyard by the battlements. Retaliation! He would make his stand! Unfortunately the cannon were old, and would really need more range to be effective. Now, if they were higher? His eyes looked up to the tower. This was about the height of twelve men or even higher. He stroked his beard as he pondered on the problem. Now, if the cannon were up there on the top floor, they would have a commanding range over the countryside, he thought. Even better, there were broad stairs all the way up the tower. With wooden planks they could build ramps and the cannon could be pushed up. All it needed was about a dozen peasants from the village. Maybe a block and tackle too? The very next day, with the help of his young Czech steward, Milan Kadlec, he enlisted about a dozen village men.That done, in honor of the occasion, he rummaged about into his armory and finally unearthed his best sword. It was a bit rusty, but it was still serviceable. He waved it around experimentally. It made a satisfying swish. It made him feel like a knight of old. Now very pleased with himself, he spotted a suit of armor that had belonged to some ancestor. He had wiped off the dust and saw that although the plume on the helmet was a bit moth eaten, but still looked impressive. Calling for a servant to help him he donned the armor and with a final check in a mirror he clanked his way to meet the villager work gang, who were fidgeting under Milan's shrewd gaze. The men looked at their lord incredulously. He raised the visor to see them better, but his mustache caught in the hinge and he had to fumble with it before he could open it safely. Under Milan's glare village crew suppressed their laughter and even gave him a hearty cheer. He was their employer and landlord, after all, and after a beer or two they set to work. The first ramps were navigated easily. The men were fresh and in a few minutes one cannon was up the first ramp. Several hours later they had it up on the top floor with its muzzle pointing out of a window over the countryside. The baron was very pleased and decided to be generous. He let the panting sweating men rest for a half hour and even supplied them with another cask of beer before they started on the next cannon. Milan suggested greasing the wheels and that made a difference too. With a lot more sweating they got it almost to the top of the highest ramp. Only a foot more to go! The baron could not contain his exhilaration. Victory was in sight! In his enthusiasm he clambered astride the cannon, and waved his sword to exhort the men for their last push. But the men were tired, the cannon was very heavy and this sudden extra weight was the straw that broke the camel's back. It did not help too that the baron had fumbled with his sword and as it fell out of his hands, one man snatched his hands away to avoid being sliced. Another man's sweaty hands slipped and then another, and the men leaped clear as the cannon, with the baron astride it, its wheels nicely greased, began to roll back down the ramp, accelerating as it went. Across the landing there was an impressive leaded glass window, commissioned from some artisans in Vienna about five years previously. It showed the baron's coat-of-arms in intense blues and reds. It had been strong enough to hold the elements at bay, but unfortunately was no match for the momentum of a cannon with a portly, armor clad baron astride. The cannon careered across the landing and burst through the window, with the hapless nobleman still on it, giving him a chance to experience the flight and weightlessness of angels before he went to join them. He was even so bewildered at this sudden turn of events that he forgot to cry out. The cannon landed with a large plop into the moat, on the banked up side, producing a large hole in the oozy mud, which nicely received the following baron. Still clutching his helmet and plume, he followed the cannon to the bottom of the hole. In another second the mud closed back over them. The croaking frogs were stilled only for a minute, and a few ducks further along the moat briefly fluttered their wings to remove some mud splatters, and moved to a spot less troubled by the affairs of men. The Baron's son Philippe had been less than concerned with his father's military preparations, and instead had been disporting himself in his bedroom one storey down with a girl from the neighboring village, whose dark ringlets and creamy bosom had taken his attention some weeks before. They had almost reached the climax of their amorous activities when she let out a loud cry. At first Philippe was very pleased with himself. This particular woman, although possessed of a voluptuous body and an inventive tongue, at least initially, had been less than enthusiastic and not very vociferous, perhaps even rather passive, when their more recent unions were consummated. He had even heard a barely suppressed yawn at their last rendezvous. This time he had fed her a potion that the Gypsy woman had suggested would bring her to fever pitch. Until now it had not seemed as if the potion had worked, but he was very gratified by this sudden response and instantly reached his climax too. Maybe the potion had a delayed effect, he rationalized. Yet, on thinking about it, the woman's cry had not been quite that of passion, more like one of shock. Philippe would have preferred to remain conjoined for a minute or two to bask in the afterglow of his release, but the girl began wriggling and squirming so much beneath him that he had to disengage before she did him an injury. "Your father!" she finally screamed. Philippe immediately looked guiltily to the door, afraid that his father was interrupting his amorous activities yet again, but the door was still closed. "What about him? Where?" "He fell past the window," she cried. At first Philippe wondered if his father had devised another way to spy on him, but he now realized that there had been crashing sound from above then a splash from below, as well as his mistress' cries, and now he heard a lot of shouting from below. He ran to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to be seen except a muddy churned patch among the duckweed on the moat, and a few bubbles of gas that broke the surface of the dark water. However, something was going on, as a group of laborers began assembling at the side of the moat, some pointing to the turbid water. Obviously something was going on with all of the shouting outside and he hurriedly pulled on his clothes to investigate. He almost ran into Milan outside the door. "Sire, it's your father," the steward cried. "He fell through a window and down into the moat down there." There was hardly any more to be seen when they got down to the moat's edge. The work party were now mainly assembled at the edge of the moat, as if waiting for orders, slightly sheepishly, They were all pointing and gesticulating at the forbidding dark water, with no one showing any sign of wanting to actually enter it. "Your father! He fell in!' he heard. Philippe thought he should play the part of a concerned son and tried to wade in but within seconds he was sinking and sticking in the glutinous mud and had to be pulled out. The moat had not been cleaned for decades, if not centuries and was too thick to swim in easily, but much too thin to support his weight, and too deep to wade. While Philippe and Milan considered their options the village people began to melt away despite an inducement of a lot of money to help retrieve the body of the baron. After he stripped out of his slimy clothes, washed and dressed, Philippe had a long discussion with Milan to decide on their next action. Draining the moat was impossible without a small army. The whole thing was a real bother. They called on the village priest, Father Szedlik to discuss making the moat consecrated ground and leaving the corpse there, but Szedlik was having none of that, insisting that the interment should be in holy ground. Indeed he even made some remarks that it was most inconsiderate for the baron to have gone to his watery grave without the benefit of last rites. So, the body would have to be pulled out. Eventually, the next day, with a fresh working party equipped with grappling hooks and poles and fortified with yet another barrel of beer, they were able to snag the mortal remains of the baron, still in his armor. When they removed the armor, washed him and scraped out some wildlife from his mouth, his face showed a surprised expression. They just left the old cannon where it lay. The embankment of the moat seemed to have suffered some damage and the ground underneath was soft with leaking water. Artur had been conscripted as a member of the working party. He would not have wanted to see the old baron die, but it was one less in the castle to contend with. He hoped he could have seen inside the castle, but the working party were kept outside. Philippe accepted the consequences of his father's misadventure with some exasperation. First, at his father's passing; that he would now have the responsibility of arranging a suitable funeral. Its other effects gradually sank into his mind. Now he would actually have to work, and take responsibility for running the estates. And then there was the Austrian bureaucracy to contend with. His father had grumbled at the trips he had to make to Vienna every year. What was it his father had said? "The Prussians were going to invade?" Or something like that. However no one in the Austrian military hierarchy had contacted him so perhaps if he lay low the clashes of armies and nations might not really affect him or his small domain. Besides, in a month's time there was the village celebration. He thought about all the freshly maturing girls that there would be on display. Maybe he could select a few who would be encouraged to visit him over the coming winter. ............. In a week the Prussian army had found the Austrians, or at least the armies had found each other at Kolin. There, Frederic's tactics and ambitions overreached the ability and numbers of his troops and the Austrians, for once, gained the upper hand and possession of the field. Horst was terrified. He had seen those on either side of him fall under the musket fire, even Jacob, standing right next to him, sank to his knees then collapsed on his face. As the soldiers at his side began to melt away, panicked, he joined them. He pushed through the bodies on the field and the dying men, just wanting to get away from all the slaughter. He dodged the wounded staggering to the rear, the disintegrating line of musketeers and within a few minutes he was running along the road as fast as his legs could carry him. It was only when he stopped to get his breath he noticed he was going along the same road that he had been on a week before. He was headed vaguely west, but he knew he would be better to start heading north to Prussia. The only trouble was that if he was found by the remnants of the Prussian army he would be taken into another regiment at the least. At the worst he might be shot as a deserter. If the Austrians captured him he would probably be shot as well. When he stumbled around another bend in the road he saw the Gypsies again. The woman had been kind before. He would ask them for help. He almost fell into the camp, gasping for breath. "Please," he said. "Please shelter me. There was a battle and I escaped but the Austrians will be hunting down any Prussians." Stefania glared at him. "You have put us in danger. If we are found sheltering you we will be shot as well." Seeing his desperation and his youth she relented. "Here, hide inside this wagon." He climbed inside and she covered him with a cloth. But she need not have worried. No soldiers appeared from the battlefield. All they saw was another group of Austrian soldiers rushing along the road from the Prague direction. They obviously had not heard about the result of the battle and were reinforcements hurrying to join the Austrian forces. Stefania wondered about what would happen next. At some point the young man would have to be released, which would be dangerous for him and might be dangerous for the Gypsies if it was found they had sheltered him. She commented on it to Mira. Mira thought for a bit then told her idea to Stefania, who nodded in pleased agreement. She climbed into the wagon to speak to Horst. "Horst?" Stefania asked. "I have done you a favor. Now it is time for you to do one for us." "Anything," the young man cried. Stefania wondered if he would be as keen when he heard what it was. "Well, I want to offer you a disguise, but in that disguise you will have to do something for us. You can also use the disguise to get north back to Prussia when you have done us a favor. Later you could even use the disguise to avoid being conscripted back into the army." His eyes lit up. "That would be wonderful. I have no wish to do any more soldiering. It is dangerous!" "You see, I want to disguise you as a woman." He looked at her in shock, then suspicion. "But, uh, I'm not sure I can do that. I don't look like a woman at all." It only took the view of another troop of Austrian cavalry riding past to change his mind. "All right, I have decided. I will take this woman's disguise. Where's the clothing?" "First things first," said Stephania. "That will come later. You see, I want to disguise you very effectively,so well that no one would ever know you were a man. Because, in fact, you would not be, as I am going to use a magic spell on you which will change you into a woman completely." "What?" Horst was incredulous. "Magic?" There is no such thing! Anyway, I don't want to be in a woman's body. Besides, women are vulnerable." Yes, women are vulnerable, Stefania thought, but it need only be temporary. Besides, the young man was slim and had fairly delicate features and the spell would make him into a good woman. She would be a very pretty one, although it had never failed, as far as she knew, to make beautiful women out of the most apparently unsuitable male material. As a pretty girl was necessary for their plans, she had to persuade him. "All right, you can think about it but otherwise you can only stay here one more day. Your presence is dangerous for us. "And yes, there is such a thing as magic, I assure you, but this spell will be temporary. Don't worry! You will be able to change back using another spell from the book. However, first, you have to do us a favor in return for the disguise. Then you can go back to Prussia or wherever you want. I will give you a copy of the spell to make you change back and when you find it convenient you can use it. You can do it right after you do us that favor, or when you get back to Prussia or whenever you want." Host shook his head violently. "No, not at all. I will not be changed to a woman." Stephania sighed and shook her head. "All right, but you must be out of here or we will hand you over to the Austrians. I will give you a day to decide." As it happened, an hour or so later Stefania watched as yet another troop of Austrian soldiers marched past, this time herding a group of despondent looking Prussian prisoners. She knew that Horst was watching from the shelter of a wagon. Soon afterwards he approached her. "I have been thinking," he spoke hesitatingly. " Maybe I will accept your terms, but tell me. You say I will be a woman! Completely?" "Yes, completely.You will become a woman of your own age. You are how old? Nineteen? That means you will have the shape of a pretty young woman, curved, with breasts, a slim waist and broad hips. Your manhood will disappear, all of it, replaced by the parts of a woman. I will be honest with you. That means you will be a woman internally as well. You would bleed monthly like women do unless you change back first. You will speak in a woman's voice. So, unless you told them, no one would ever know you had been a man." She grinned at him. "If you stayed in the body you could even bear children, like a woman. You will have breasts, so you could even nurse children." Stefania saw she had gone too far. Horst needed reassurance. "But have no fear. With the reverse spell you will be able to change back whenever you want and resume your male life." Horst shuddered. He would have to be careful.To be locked in a woman's body for the rest of his life and condemned to what? Bearing children every two or so years? Domestic drudgery? "I can see it would be a good disguise, but what do you want me to do. Why a woman's body? What is the favor you want me to do?" "The landowner here, a minor noble, has an eye for women. We want to get a spy inside the castle. You see. We think he might have some treasure hidden away and we need to find it. We want to take advantage of the new baron's fondness for women. A woman who took the baron's fancy would be invited into the castle and would be able to snoop around better. Unfortunately we cannot use a Gypsy woman. There is no one of the right age and the local girls, well, we might not be able to trust them either. "You will become a beautiful woman of your own age. He will notice you. And you can pretend to be friendly with him. If you could get the information on the castle to us it would help us rob him successfully." "You mean you want to expose me to a lecher, in a woman's body!" Horst shrieked. "I could be raped!" "Oh, very little chance of that," Stefania said airily, hiding her own misgivings. "But we would give you a share of the treasure too." She saw she now had his attention. "How are you going to do change me?" "I have an old magic book that has been in our family for generations. It has a number of magic spells, and if one is read, all men within hearing are changed into women, beautiful women. Women hearing it become more beautiful too." Horst did not like the sound of this. As a woman, especially a beautiful one, he would be vulnerable and weak. Being beautiful too he would attract attention and be the object of any man's lust. Still, given the alternatives... And if there was a share of the loot? He thought he could trust her. He would do as the Gypsy woman wanted. He could change back, and with money he would be set up for life. He could even avoid any further recruitment in Prussia. Money was useful stuff. "All right, when do you want to do it?" Stefania hid her satisfaction. "Why not right now? I should have said you will be unconscious for about two days, but we will look after you well during that time. All right, why don't you come into the wagon here and we can get started?" She saw he was nervous but took his hand and led him up the wooden steps into the wagon, barely moving faster than someone on their way to up to a scaffold. She would have to use the spell before he changed his mind. "Sit down here. Oh yes, It would be better if you undress a bit." She passed a bundle to him. "Use this loose gown to cover yourself. The spell takes several hours to complete, but you will not wake up for more than a day after. It is severe and you will be uncomfortable for another day or so after that." Embarrassed, he removed his uniform and boots and put on the loose gown. He was blushing. Stefania was amused. Naked men meant nothing to her now. It was nice he was modest, but soon his body would be entirely different. He was young and his body was fairly hairless. "Here, a touch of brandy to relax you!" Horst gulped it down, screwing up his face as the fiery spirit touched his stomach. He watched her pull out a cloth wrapped bundle from a carved chest, unwrapping it to expose a book. It looked very nondescript, just a small book, not even the size of her hand, with grubby pages, and a faded stained yellowish cover. She turned to a dog- eared page near the end. "Ready now?" Horst gulped but at his nod she began to read out the words. Supposedly these were the words of the spell, but Horst could make nothing of the strange sounds. They were unlike anything he had ever heard. It wasn't German. It only took a minute and she was finished. "Is that all?" " That is all I have to do. Now that I have used the spell, you will soon start to shiver as it takes effect. " "You mean it doesn't work immediately?" " Of course not. Look at yourself, you are still a man, but, in a few minutes you begin to shiver, more and more, then you will be unconscious for a day or so. You recognize any of the words I just spoke?" Horst shook his head. "It's not German. What language was it?" "It's not any other language that I know. There is a legend, possibly just that, that the spell has words of an ancient language. Maybe it is not even a language, just a group of noises. The spells have been passed down many generations in our family, but I don't know how we got it originally. There are probably several copies of the book around too, as copies were given out various women in the family. Now how do you feel?" " Just a bit shivery now." It was as she said. He felt a brief slight shiver, than a minute later a stronger one. Then a minute or so again, another stronger, then the shivers came faster and faster until he was shaking violently. Horst gasped as his vision dimmed then he knew nothing. He fell back on the bed. Stefania bit her lip, looking at the young man's shaking body. She removed the loose gown, the better to check on the progress of the spell. She watched as Horst's unconscious body gradually took on a series of ripples, slowly growing smaller, and with its proportions changing too. It was as if the upper body was shrinking more in relationship to the belly, hips and legs. The shoulders were narrowing, the waist even more so, while the hips broadened. Horst's prominent Adams apple began shrinking until the lengthening neck was smooth. The sweat covered skin was softening and smoothing. The arms and legs became slimmer, rounder and smoother. The face began losing its angularity, the eyebrows their heaviness. The jaw became more delicate, still determined, but softer. Stefania drew back the gown and examined the groin. The penis was visibly shrinking until it was only a small nub. The scrotum too, shrank until it was just a pad of skin. Then the skin around it split and rearranged into folds of crinkled flesh. On the chest the nipples and surrounds had begun to swell into little peaks then the whole flesh underneath began to swell too, producing two half globes, each tipped with a rosy pink nipple and areola. Stefania had seen the transformation several times before, the last when she had used it to help another young man evade pursuers, but she never ceased to wonder at the power of the ancient spell. In several hours the body below her had ceased rippling, but it was covered with dried sweat. She wiped it down with a cloth and fresh water. She knew that the figure below her, now a girl, would not waken for more than a day. She drew a blanket over the sleeping figure and started to make supper for her family. When the children were put to bed she studied the girl beneath her, the slim but nicely figured body, and the pretty face. The Adam's apple was gone. The eyebrows were delicate and nicely arched. The girl's skin was very fair, but badly blotched from the spell. Stefania knew that was normal. In fact the girl would be quite lovely when the blotchiness from the spell had passed, and excellent for their purpose. Unfortunately the girl's hair was short and she would have to get her a wig. That might be awkward, but there was no choice. It would take two years for the girl's hair to grow to a more female length, but she did not nearly have that amount of time. Stefania and Mira watched over the unconscious girl for the next day and a half, massaging her limbs and washing her every few hours. When at last she began to move on her own Stefania knew she would soon wake up. It was time to get on with the next part. The girl would need clothing suitable for her age and Stefania looked through her own clothes. Unfortunately she could ill afford to lose any of it. When they had some money after the robbery it would be a different matter. Maybe she could borrow some clothes from another family. The girl groaned as her limbs began to move sporadically. Stefania pulled at the loose hairs on the chest and at the woman's groin. A few hairs on the chin stripped off easily too. She lifted up the girl's head and held a cup of water to her lips. The girl had trouble drinking it at first and some spilled over her chest, running in the valley between her breasts. Stefania filled another cup and this time the girl managed it better, drinking greedily until it was empty. The girl lay back with a groan. She was still drifting in and out of consciousness, and occasionally wincing as if in mild pain. She slept for another hour or so then wriggled again, fumbling at herself and her clothing. Stefania had dressed her again in the loose shift. The girl groaned again, trying to get her thoughts together but her mind was too foggy, She could not concentrate. She felt some lovely warm water and a soft cloth gently rubbing her eyes. "Try to open your eyes," she heard. She forced her eyes open, blinking at the light. "I feel awful," she croaked. "Yes, it's the spell's effects," Stafania said casually. "But it has worked nicely. You are quite pretty." "Pretty?' What was that? The new girl stretched again and tried to sit up, but she was too stiff and lay back down again, staring at the ceiling. It was canvas, and she realized she was in a wagon. How on earth had she got there? She tried to remember, but it all seemed like too much effort. Some minutes later she rubbed at her eyes and sat up, her fingers playing with the fabric of her gown. It felt strange and soft, like nothing in her past experience. Stefania pushed a cushion at her back. "Here," she said. "Feel your body. Better get used to it. Feel your chest first." Stefania took the girl's hand and placed them on her chest. She saw the fingers tense in surprise and the fingers clutch at the soft flesh. Her eyes barely open, the new girl tested two soft mounds on her chest, and shook her head in puzzlement. Then her eyes flew wide open and lifting her gown, she gave a small cry of shock. In her view were two jutting breasts, each with a large pink nipple and areola. "What is this?" she shrieked. "What has happened? Why do I have breasts?" "It's as I told you. Remember I told you I was going to make you into a girl? I gave you a spell to change you into a girl to hide you. You were Horst, a Prussian soldier. You were fleeing a battle. The Austrians won and will be hunting down Prussians. This will save you from pursuers, but in turn you are to do something for us. Do you remember?" The girl nodded. "Yes. I remember now," she whispered, "but I didn't think it would be like this." "I said you would become a woman. You agreed. Now you are one. Now, touch your breasts. Try them. You should get used to them, otherwise you will find them in the way." The girl shook her head violently and held her arms close to her as if to shield herself. "No, I cannot!" Stefania thought that already the girl's coy pose was female, the way she was hiding her breasts from an interloper, but she took one arm and gently but firmly, placed the girl's right hand over her breast. Hesitating, the girl ran her fingers over her breasts, pressing them gently then more firmly. Her hands found their way to the nipples. These seemed ridiculously prominent to her. As she touched one, it stiffened, making it even more prominent, and little ridges even raised in the surrounding areola. It was the same with the other breast. She gasped in wonder. Stefania ran her hands over the girl's breast, stroking it and lightly pinching a nipple. The girl squealed. "That's so strange! Such an intense feeling! That's fantastic!" She was blushing. "Now, look down below your belly. Examine yourself more." Below the breasts her body narrowed to a slim waist, then a slightly rounded belly between wide hips. "See," said Stefania. "Your groin, between your legs. That is the centre of a woman's pleasure. Touch that." The girl ran her finger along the groove and gave small noise, between a squeal and a whimper. 'That's even more intense." She shivered. "It makes me feel strange. How will I stand it? What has happened?" she asked, momentarily hesitating at her voice, now higher pitched. "My voice has changed too." "It is the results of the spell. You are a woman, completely. You were a man, so your body will feel very strange at first, but you will get used to it. Now, have a look between your legs. Here is a mirror." The girl opened her legs and gave a small despairing cry. "It's all gone," she said in hushed tones. She only saw a mound at the base of her belly and, instead of the familiar dangling male parts, a soft mound of crinkly skin split by a fissure and in that, a moist opening. "Touch it. Pull it open," said Stefania. The girl shook her head. "No Please! I cannot! That can't be me!" "I assure you it is. That is what women look like and you are one! Spread your legs and use your fingers." Reluctantly the girl did so, hesitating first at her pubic hair, now in a woman's pattern. Stefania had already removed the male pattern hair as it stripped off. The girl uttered a small whimper. "It's all different. So strange! I really am a woman," she said hollowly. She was almost in tears. Stefania took the girl in her arms and stroked her back. "Yes, and you should get used to it. Try to adapt to it as soon as you can. Did you know women looked like that?" "No, I have never slept with a woman." That actually might make it easier to adapt, Stefania thought. "Unfortunately your hair is too short, but I can get you a wig and then some pretty clothes the better to disguise you. But first, we should decide on your name, a girl's name. Do you have any preferences?" The girl shook her head. "I hadn't thought about it." "I thought of something beginning like Horst. But there is nothing. So how about Hilde?" The girl thought for a minute. "I don't mind." "All right, Hilde it is! How do you feel now, Hilde? Are you able to get up and walk around?" "Yes, I think so." Stefania supported her as she pulled herself upright in the wagon. "Have a look at yourself in the mirror." Hilde gasped at the view in the mirror. Facing her was a young woman with a beautiful oval face and with flawless features. Her hair was ash blonde and her eyes were gray blue, like Horst's had been. Instead of heavy brows they now looked out from under soft arched eyebrows. The vision's pink lips were prettily curved. Her chin was small, but determined. Her head rested on a long elegant neck, with a delicate indentation at the base of her throat. Hilde gasped when she looked down. On her chest were two pretty mounds of perfectly shaped breasts, each with a pink areola and nipples. Below these, her body was slim with a narrow waist set over wide hips. He legs were long, with slim thighs, nicely contoured calves and neat ankles. "Actually you are very pretty, " said Stefania. "Most women would be very envious of you." Hilde did not know what to think. She appreciated her newly formed beauty, but there was a feeling of apprehension now that she was this beautiful young woman. There was absolutely no chance of her being able to hide. She was suddenly aware that men would be enormously attracted to her, with one thing mainly on their minds, and she had no wish for that. She felt her lips quivering and a tear starting in her eyes. She needed to sit down. "I feel dizzy," she complained. "That will pass too. You are doing very well. Now try these clothes. Here is some women's underwear. Come on! You must get used to it." Stefania helped the girl into the clothes, amused at her blushing, but she said nothing. "Then this skirt and finally a blouse. It has a drawstring at the neck. You can loosen that or draw it tighter as you wish." "You will need this wig. Be careful as it was expensive. I wanted blonde hair like your own, but I don't have one in that colour." Stefania set the dark wig on Hilde's head. She grimaced. There was barely enough of Hilde's own hair to tuck underneath. It might be years before her hair was the proper length for a woman, but she had to try to encourage the girl "Now look at yourself! Aren't you a pretty girl?" "I hope I will not have to be one for long." Hilde suddenly stood as in shock. She had remembered something. "You said I am to meet the new baron and you are prettying me up. Uh, won't he take advantage of me? You know what I mean. Use me as a woman?" "Well, you are a woman, completely. Yes, he may. I have heard he is a womanizer so you will need all your wiles to elude or delay him. You will have to tease him, but still keep him interested in you. Then you can play with him and lead him on so that you can spy out the castle. If you keep him talking and flatter him it may work.' "Now, I will let you rest a bit. The spell is severe and takes a lot out of anyone who uses it and I see you are getting tired. But tomorrow, you are to get up and I will start to instruct you into how women walk and carry themselves and how to talk to a man. You are a Gypsy, and living on his land. He will expect you, like all the peasants around here, to defer to him." A month later, wars and battles having become of less concern, the annual village fair was held. Sitting on his chair on the dais set up in the open space in front of the castle Philippe surveyed the village girls as they sauntered back and forward over the grass between the booths, some openly, some a bit more coyly, showing off their charms. It was common knowledge that girls who enjoyed the new baron's favors had also benefited materially. He saw some girls at the Gypsy's wagon. Hmmm, maybe some of them were trying Gypsy potions. Love potions? If he could find out which ones....? Then, with the unmarried girls in the middle moving in one direction, and the village unmarried young men moving in the other direction round them, they began a slow ritualistic movement, half way between a walk and a dance, the girls flashing smiles and swaying their hips, occasionally at first then more frequently, allowing tantalizing glimpses of their ankles and legs. His steward Milan at his side, he carefully examined the girls as they gyrated round. That one was pretty, but.....,- maybe a bit plump! That one was definitely skinny. If she put on a bit of weight her litheness might promise some entertaining positions, but...no, he could do better! Ugh! That next one had a face like a horse. Now, her with the reddish hair, he liked her insolent walk and the way she twitched her hips. She even gave him a saucy look. She was a definite possibility. He had Milan note her name. He shook his head at the next. She had a lumpy figure, with all the lumps in the wrong places. But that next one now, she would provide some amusement too. Milan had gone through this selection with Philippe in the past three years since he became steward. He was disgusted with the process, but he dared not speak up. Over the afternoon he made a list of the girls, identifying them with Milan's help. If the girls were amenable they might give some interesting diversions over the winter months. But it was later, when he had almost given up and was about to leave, that he saw the Gypsy family leave their booth and start to walk to him. He could not help noticing the woman Stefania, a striking woman, olive skinned, with her dark long hair hanging almost to her waist and, beneath her Gypsy garments, still showing a slim curved figure. She would have been very attractive some years back and would have definitely been on his list, he thought. Now she was showing the effects of bearing her children. She had her mother Mira and her children with her too. But suddenly, along with the group of Gypsies, was a vision that struck his heart. Walking just behind them, also in Gypsy type clothing, there was a beautiful girl, fair skinned, dark haired, with a narrow waist, yet a full bust and nice hips shown off to advantage by her dirndl skirt. She was wearing a tight black short jacket over a white embroidered blouse, low necked, that showed off the tops of pert creamy breasts and a deep seductive valley between them. She walked gracefully, her head high, her shoulders back and her hips undulating. Out of the corner of her eye, Stefania watched Hedwig. The girl had learned well. Philippe was immediately overwhelmed with the vision. "Who is that?" he asked Milan faintly. Milan shook his head. "I don't know, sire. She seems to be part of the Gypsy family, yet she certainly does not look Gypsy. I am not sure if I have seen her before. Shall I call them over?" Milan was struck by the girl too. He had never seen anyone as beautiful. He wanted her too, but if Philippe had his eyes on her, then he would be well advised to suppress his own interest in the girl. But it was unnecessary to call the Gypsies over. Without even being summoned, the family came right up to the dais and, while the men bowed slightly, the women curtseyed. Philippe did not notice. He was transfixed by the vision of the girl. He could not take his eyes off her, and when she curtseyed low again, he felt a stirring in his loins at the sight of her breasts bobbing in the neck of her bodice. "Greetings, my Lord. I am called Artur.," said one of the Gypsy men. "This is a fine day. Can I present my wife, Stefania and my children, then my father Tamas, and my mother -in-law Mira? Finally, this is my wife's distant relative Hilde. She used to live in Austria, and was orphaned so she has come to live with us." Hilde gave Philippe a broad smile, her white teeth sparkling between full red lips. When she curtseyed again, Philippe almost fell off his chair at the vision. He must have this girl! She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. "Uh, I uh y..., you are welcome here," he stammered. He rose and, trembling, stood in front of the girl. Now he could look right down her cleavage. He felt faint. "Hilde, I am called Philippe. I am pleased that you are here to grace this celebration." "Thank you, my lord. This has been a wonderful day and the area is so pretty. I like it here." "Then you must come and visit me. I would like to show you my palace." "You are very generous, sire. I would like that." Philippe almost fell over in surprise. This girl was not discouraging him at all. Even the Stefania woman did not seem to be overly concerned with her prot?g?'s obvious appeal to him. Strange! Maybe, he thought,