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If you were about to finally live the life of your dreams, there were few more annoying things to be foisted on you than an irritating ten-year-old who happened to be your younger brother. At least, that was the conclusion Crown Prince Friedrich arrived at when rudely interrupted in his reading by this most unwelcome news. He was enjoying his leisure and thought he more than deserved it. Ever since his ill-fated escape attempt and imprisonment had ended with a reconciliation on his father’s terms and a complete submission to him, he’d done his utmost to be the very model of an eager Prussian officer. Day in and day out, he drilled the regiment he’d been given, which was stationed at Neuruppin, a small town in Brandenburg just far enough from Berlin to ensure he wouldn’t have to visit his father except on special occasions. He dealt with Neuruppin’s daily problems, up to and including the restoration of the medieval city walls. He socialized with the other officers and their families but was careful not to have any one particular favorite among them, instead showing himself to be friendly with several. He’d even married the bride his father the King had chosen for him, despite the fact she wasn‘t to his taste at all but to the King’s: a harmless, ill-educated creature who was painfully shy and very much determined to please and serve her husband. He couldn’t even hate Elisabeth Christine; she was too obedient and boring for that. But he had married her, and even bedded her at regular intervals, since he was very sure his father would hear about any refusal of his to do so.
In return, he was to receive what he thought of as his reward. He’d been given an old and decrepit country mansion for his wedding, which the architect of his choice was allowed to rebuild according to Friedrich’s wishes. And now, in only two more months, he’d be able to move there, to Rheinsberg, still close enough to the Regiment at Neuruppin so the King couldn’t suspect him of shirking his military duties, but still practically its own little realm. He’d be able to openly enjoy the arts there again without censorship, rebuild the library he’d lost when trying to escape from Prussia, not only hire professional musicians but practice his flute with them, debate philosophy and literature with his friends without having to work in remarks pleasing to the King for the benefit of the spies he was sure were still in his household at Neuruppin. It would be paradise, he was sure of it, and was solely marking time these last few weeks in the residence he’d lived in at Neuruppin, which had belonged to Colonel von Wreech before him and had been built directly next to the formerly crumbling city walls. Friedrich was happily engaged in writing to one of his favourite people, the former Saxon envoy to Prussia who was now serving his country at the Russian court at St. Petersburg, when his valet announced an uninvited and unwelcome visitor.
It wasn’t just that any family member, other than his favourite and oldest sister, Wilhelmine, would not have been welcome right now. Friedrich barely knew his younger siblings. The one being guided into his presence by a wide-eyed and evidently curious tutor was the thirteenth child his parent had inflicted on the world , Heinrich, fourteen years younger than Friedrich himself. About the only vivid memory Friedrich had of little Heinrich was holding the baby at his baptism, during which this particular brother had kept displaying a remarkable set of lungs. It seemed that Heinrich had grown into a none too impressive ten-year-old, small for his age, clad in the army uniform their father insisted on for his sons and with a serious face. At least the brother who came in age between them, August Wilhelm, was a cheerful soul who immediately approached people and greeted them with a smile. By contrast, Heinrich regarded Friedrich with a downright distrustful look.
„My noble brother,“ he said, making his bow. Well, his voice and French sounded passable, but was there an undertone of sarcasm in the way he pronounced „noble“? At once, Friedrich recalled that his father’s creature Grumbkow had told him one of the ways to win the King’s favour would be to pay attention to his brothers, as opposed to confining his fraternal affection to Wilhelmine. Was Heinrich yet another duty the King had inflicted on Friedrich? Perhaps even their father’s little replica?
„Dear brother,“ he returned drily. „To what do I owe this… unexpected pleasure?“
„The Queen’s majesty thought it opportune for Prince Heinrich to visit your Royal Highness and benefit from your august example,“ the tutor said hastily, and handed over a letter. Well, if it was his mother’s idea, not his father’s, he might be able to get rid of Heinrich again sooner rather than later, but on the other hand doing favours for his mother was something Friedrich actually felt compelled to do without his life depending on it. He opened the letter and squinted. Much to his displeasure, he’d discovered he was short sighted, and had taken to wearing glasses in private, but the moment visitors were announced he’d had to hide them.
His mother wrote something about Heinrich learning from Friedrich’s example, with an undertone of urgency, and a comment about „unfortunate phrasings“ incurring the King’s displeasure. Which might have made Friedrich feel a pang of sympathy – he remembered all too well what it had been like to infuriate the King at Heinrich’s age, never mind later, far more serious examples of this - were it not for the fact Heinrich declared: „I’m hungry. Do you have anything to eat around here?“
He couldn’t have made it more obvious how little he respected Friedrich, who knew if he himself had said something like this to his father, he’d have had his ears boxed at the very least.
„No,“ he replied witheringly. „You’ll have to wait for supper. This is the time for improving one’s mind, not stuffing one’s body.“
„Looks like you’re doing both, my brother,“ Heinrich observed, looking Friedrich up and down again. Friedrich flushed. He’d gained weight during his year of imprisonment at Küstrin, and then some more when he was finally free to employ his own cook once more. „So why can’t I?“
What an unpleasant brat.
„Do you have a mind to improve?“ Friedrich returned before he could stop himself while Heinrich’s tutor grew crimson and apologetic in turn, and started to bow and try to draw his charge away. Heinrich stared at Friedrich.
„Do you have anything to teach that’s an improvement?“ the boy said. At this point, the tutor finally suceeded in removing Heinrich, while Friedrich discovered that a part of him was amused. At least the brat wasn’t boring in addition to being obnoxious.
Still, he found he had plenty to complain about by the time he was alone with his valet again. And he had been very much looking forward to this: Fredersdorf was supposed to tell him about the latest acquisitions for Rheinsberg, and then they would play a duet together, for while he kept this carefully hidden from his father, Fredersdorf had first come to his attention as a musician, and had only then learned to play the servant.
„I know I’m supposed to do my bit for our bloodline, but if my parents think being put in charge of one of my annoying siblings will aid my efforts in that department, they’re both mistaken. And why this one? At least Wilhelm is good natured, even if he is a little ignorant. Whereas Heinrich is downright offensive.“
„Being a youngest brother in a large family myself, I may be biased,“ Fredersdorf said mildly, „but it might be a younger brother’s lot to dispense with manners in order to attract attention. Otherwise we’re easily overlooked.“
„You’d never burst into someone’s home and demand food, and you are the son of a town piper in Pommerania, not the son and grandson of kings,“ Friedrich retorted. They were alone, which meant Fredersdorf, who was two years older than Friedrich, was behaving with an informality he’d never show in front of others. He laughed, and put his hand on Friedrich’s shoulder.
„I wouldn’t, but your royal highness might. I still remember the first time I had the privilege of serving you while you were visiting the King and Queen for the Christmas holidays. Something I learned very quickly was to organize delicacies to supplement your noble family’s meals.“
With a shudder, Friedrich thought about his father’s habit of making them all eat what the King deemed „food fit for the Spartans“. Very well. Maybe Heinrich did have a reason to ask for a meal upon his arrival. But that didn’t change the fact he’d never behaved this way in their father’s presence, and if he thought he could get away with showing the future King of Prussia less respect, he would find himself sorely mistaken.
„Yes, well,“ he said, „Heinrich needs to learn I am his future sovereign. And then he needs to leave. Which will not happen if he grows too comfortable here.“
„I dare say there’s no danger of that,“ Fredersdorf murmured, and having said his piece, proceeded to make Friedrich very comfortable indeed.
Since the brat was supposed to learn from him, and might or might not tell tales to their father after his return anyway, Friedrich took him along to the daily drilling and saw with satisfaction that Heinrich looked exactly as uneasy, weary and bored as he himself had felt at that age. Then he decided to be generous and expose the boy to some culture, too. Until he could finally move to Rheinsberg, Friedrich spent most of his leisure time in the gardens outside the city walls. Due to his purchase of Wreech’s old town house as a residence, he didn’t have to go through the ugly streets of Ruppin to reach them but had a direct door available. And these gardens really had become a small paradise to him; oak trees sheltered them from townside views, and then you could smell the stocks and delight in their yellow bloom, while cherry trees promised their delicious fruit. He also had melons planted, and there was a small pavilion, with six Corinthian columns and a flat roof, where he enjoyed music and conversation among the selected friends he thought he could trust. Music wasn’t forbidden to him any longer, so no one committed any disobedience towards the King, but Friedrich still was careful to not let these concerts take too long, and not to participate openly. This would change in Rheinsberg, as so many things would. He would be happy there, he just knew it.
„My Amalthea“, he said, gesturing to the pavilion. Then it occurred to him that given the King’s conviction his sons did not need any knowledge of the Greeks and Romans, Heinrich might not understand his reference, and so he added: „That is, my realm of happiness and abundance.“
„I thought Amalthea was the nymph who fostered Zeus in secret so his father Cronus wouldn’t eat him like he’d eaten his siblings. Must have been really rotten for the siblings, but I guess Zeus had fun, far from Cronus“ Heinrich said, and didn’t blink when Friedrich stared at him. „Is that a violinist?“
Indeed, there was one – from the regiment, Friedrich wanted to avoid complaints by his father about the extra expenditure – tuning his violin in the pavilion. He’d been ordered to play while Friedrich, his brother and two of the officers from his regiment enjoyed a summer evening picknick. Elisabeth Christine, whom he’d have foisted his little brother on had she been here, was currently in Potsdam and supposed to ask the King for some additional money for Rheinsberg.
Observing Heinrich showing genuine enthusiasm for the music caused a strange sensation in Friedrich. He hadn’t had a true ally among his siblings since Wilhelmine had been married to her Bayreuth prince, and had moved far, far away from him. That was one of the reasons why he had started to write letters to his next oldest brother Wilhelm to begin with, that and Grumbkows‘ advice on how to ingratiate himself with the King. Wilhelm was nice and willing enough to write back, but not only would he not have known what or who Amalthea was, it would never have occurred to him to read more into the name Friedrich had given his garden than „garden idyll“. By contrast, Heinrich might make for an actual asset of an ally if these signs of intelligence and taste were no flukes, but then there was his personality.
The two officers Friedrich had invited for this evening’s supper were Rathenow and Gröben, both cheerful, amusing men who were pleasant to be with, were old Brandenburg nobility which meant his father could not disapprove as he might have with Frenchmen or artists, and neither of them so much in his confidence that they could have given away secrets in front of the boy. Knobelsdorff, who could have done, was safely away supervising the last touches on Rheinsberg which he was responsible for as its architect. Nonetheless, it didn’t take long before Gröben asked Heinrich: „Will Your Royal Highness remain with your noble brother’s household now?“
Heinrich looked as appalled by the prospect as Friedrich felt, and that, in turn, was just the tiniest bit irritating.
„I hope not,“ Heinrich replied. „I miss my brothers.“
He was referring to Wilhelm and to Ferdinand, the only sibling younger than Heinrich himself, born in the year of Friedrich’s ill fated escape attempt. Friedrich knew even less of Ferdinand than he knew of Heinrich, whereas to Heinrich, of course, these were the siblings he was growing up with, just as Friedrich had been raised with Wilhelmine. He didn’t understand why it should vex him to be implicitly excluded from the category „brothers“, but nonetheless, it did.
„Whereas they surely breathe a sigh of relief,“ he said, smiling to indicate he was joking.
Gröben, ever impulsive, slapped Heinrich on the back and suggested he could always invite his brothers to join them at Neuruppin, surely the King’s Majesty would give his permission for such a visit in the spirit of strengthening fraternal ties. Gröben was one of the best looking younger officers of Friedrich’s Regiment, and usually provided aesthetic but not mental distraction. Right now, though, Friedrich could have strangled him.
Heinrich turned to Friedrich and asked „Could I?“, looking suspiciously innocent and wide-eyed.
„If His Majesty permits,“ Friedrich said with gritted teeth, envisioning his time of freedom vanishing on the horizon. Heinrich watched him a heartbeat longer, then he said gloomily: „He won’t. At least not Wilhelm. This is supposed to be a punishment.“
Awkward silence ensued, until Rathenow covered it up by laughing and saying: „Out of the mouth of babes… but however naughty you’ve been, Your Royal Highness, I’m sure sharing your Royal Brother’s company can not be anything but a reward.“
This expert flattery would have worked, except for Friedrich no longer being in the mood to be flattered. I knew it, he thought, and raged at the injustice. He’d done everything, hadn’t he? Had literally kissed his father’s boots, in public, had become a model of duty, had buried the grief that came on him on a dark November day so deep that it never showed, and if he still exchanged secret letters with those he loved whom his father had left alive, he did so in the knowledge he would never seek his freedom with any of them. And yet.
„You’re assuming that my brother Henri here is the one supposed to be punished,“ Friedrich said coldly. „Whereas I am reasonably sure he’s meant to be the punishment.“
Heinrich, who had been seated opposite Friedrich, abruptly rose.
„You’re far too awful for anyone to stay with you anyway, my brother,“ he said, made the most insultingly tiny of bows and stalked away, which turned into a run. By now, the light of the evening was turning into dusk, so he quickly disappeared beneath the oak trees.
„That was a bit harsh,“ Gröben observed. He looked half puzzled, half shocked. Rathenow had a surprised expression on his face, rather than a disapproving one. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the Crown Prince he regularly referred to as „my charming prince“ to argue with a child.
You’ve never been present at any of our family meals, Friedrich thought, remembering the King throwing plates at him and Wilhelmine while shouting abuse on one especially memorable occasion. But this time, he didn’t say it out loud. Gröben wasn’t wrong, after all. When all was said and done, Heinrich the brat was just a ten-year-old, who wasn’t responsible for Friedrich’s own childhood. He forced a benign expression on his face.
„I will talk with the boy later,“ he said. „Now, what’s this I hear about Buddenbrock catching the French pox?“
Heinrich had never returned to the room where he and his tutor had been stashed. Nor had he returned into any other room in Colonel von Wreech’s former residence. In fact, he seemed to have disappeared from the face of the Earth when Friedrich sent for him to make good on his promise.
„I thought he was with your Royal Highness,“ the tutor said, ashen-faced. As well he might be: what the King would do if any of his children slipped away from the strict supervision he had ordered wasn’t exactly a mystery.
„Surely he’s pouting and hiding,“ Friedrich suggested. The tutor looked doubtful, and Friedrich realised he had no idea whether or not Heinrich was the type of child who hid himself away when distressed, or even whether Heinrich was distressed at all, as opposed to simply continuing to be brattish.
„Let me organise a search party for His Highness,“ Fredersdorf suggested. He looked very serious.
„Just post a guard in front of the larder, and he’ll show up sooner or later,“ Friedrich said, but when Fredersdorf didn’t smile, he agreed to the search party.
The night passed, and morning came without any sign of Heinrich. By now, Friedrich had started to worry himself. Not that the streets of sleepy Neuruppin were bursting with criminals likely to assault well dressed sons of the nobility, but it was entirely possible that Heinrich had had an accident and was lying in a ditch somewhere with a broken leg. By now, he had visions of parental disapproval that included his mother as well as his father, asking him how he could possibly manage to fail at such a tiny task as being in charge of his little brother for a few days.
Out of the well sealed depths where he’d stashed his past pain, a memory arose, of Katte talking fondly of his two little brothers, „such brats, always at each other’s throats except when they’re ganging up on me, and you should have seen the snow ball battle last winter“ and he resolutely repressed it.
„I’d like permission to enlist some of the regiment’s soldiers into the search party,“ Fredersdorf said.
„Then the King will hear about it,“ Friedrich replied, expressionless.
„Better he hears of a search party than of something happening to one of your siblings during a visit here“, Fredersdorf retorted. He had a point. Friedrich suggested to enlist Gröben and Rathenow, who knew about the unpleasant exchange he’d had with Heinrich already, but Fredersdorf showed an not unfounded scepticism at Gröben’s ability to accomplish anything systematic and practical and insisted on two common soldiers like he himself had been instead. As soon as they had vanished, Friedrich, wondering what he himself would do in Heinrich’s situation, was hit by an idea and tried the violinist.
„Yes, the Prince did seek me out last night,“ the violinist said guiltily. „He wanted to hear another sonata. But I was so tired from the drill the whole day and then playing in the evening, I said it would have to wait until tomorrow.“
The violinist first claimed he’d told Heinrich to return to his tutor, but upon further enquiry confessed he’d said that if the boy really wanted to hear more music that very night, there were always the local taverns where there was dancing on summer nights, and thus also musicians.
Friedrich imagined his father’s expression at being told a Prince of the House of Brandenburg was given the freedom to visit a tavern, unsupervised, at age ten. Presumably since Heinrich wasn’t the heir, he wouldn’t have been guarded day and night by not one but several people the way Friedrich himself had been, but he’d still been guarded.
Fortunately, Fredersdorf had already sought out the next tavern. The news he brought back was less than comforting. Yes, Heinrich had been spotted there, and yes, he’d asked for both music and food. Given he didn’t have money to pay for either, he’d been laughed at, but allowed to stay and watch everyone dancing. Which was when he’d been picked up by a woman everyone had assumed to be his nurse or a servant of his family's, for everyone could see he had to be the son of rich parents.
„A woman?“ Friedrich asked in disbelief. By now, he felt like knocking his head against the next wall. Of course, Heinrich like all of Friedrich’s siblings had had a nurse and a governess as a toddler, but once he’d finished his seventh year, his governor and all the servants in charge of him had been male according to their family’s custom.
„Talking in a Mecklenburg accent,“ Fredersdorf confirmed. „Which makes me fear this might be about revenge.“
Friedrich blinked. „I’m not aware of having offended any Mecklenburg ladies lately.“
Fredersdorf sighed. He hadn’t slept last night, either. In other circumstances, Friedrich would have said the slightly mussed hair and hint of hollowness in his cheeks looked good on him, but not now.
„Your Highness, do you remember the Mecklenburg shepherd?“
Distracted by the frustrated wish to pull Fredersdorf closer, which he didn’t do when they weren’t alone, Friedrich needed another minute, but then it came to him.
„The giant,“ he said. „The six feet four inches tall fellow from Perleberg whom I had abducted for my father four years ago.“
It had been shortly after his arrival in Neuruppin, the reconciliation with his father as brand new as it was uncertain. Friedrich hadn’t even been married yet. And he knew his father the King loved nothing more than the tall men he collected everywhere, to put into a regiment which would never, ever be put into danger by fighting and which instead was only there for the Soldier King’s delight. The fact that this particular tall man had not been a citizen of Brandenburg anymore but of the neighbouring principality of Mecklenburg had been beside the point. As had been his unwillingness to be recruited into Prussia’s service.
Having lost his own freedom for good, Friedrich had not much sympathy for anyone else’s.
„I very much fear,“ Fredersdorf said, „we might be dealing with his wife. Who appears to have undertaken a kidnapping of her own.“
Being Fredersdorf, he had already unearthed the name of the former shephard, which Friedrich had long since forgotten: a certain Georg Hacke. If Mrs. Hacke was still in Ruppin, she would be found. If she was back in Mecklenburg, however, a diplomatic disaster was in the making.
„Never mind that,“ Friedrich said darkly. „My father will send me back to Küstrin. I just know it. At the very least, he’ll confiscate Rheinsberg and make me serve directly at his side in Potsdam and Berlin again. Which will drive me mad within the year. I really hope you’re wrong, Fredersdorf.“
He wasn’t. One of the soldiers brought a missive he’d claimed to have found wrapped around a stone thrown through the field preacher’s window.
„I want my husband back,“ the message, which was written on the back of a pamphlet against ungodly vices said. The spelling was uncertain and the letters painstakingly drawn, but the meaning unmistakable. „Or else the prince gets it.“
„My father is definitely going to kill me.“
„Speaking as a tall man who did not have much choice about joining our glorious army, either: is there any chance the King’s Majesty might consider letting a member of his Potsdam Regiment go?“
It was hard to say whether the impulse to laugh was stronger than the impulse to cry.
„He loves his tall fellows, Fredersdorf. But even that aside, if he’d agree to any such exchange, half the women in this country will be on the lookout for members of the royal family to kidnap and exchange for their husbands. He’ll say Prussia’s future is in danger and refuse, and the hell of it is, I can’t entirely say he’d be wrong.“
Not wanting to dwell on his father’s anger, he tried to think of another method to ransom Heinrich. Presumably Mrs. Hacke had been receiving her husband’s salary, which was good; no one could claim Prussia’s soldiers were underpaid, or paid less than regularly, which made them the best in all the German principalities. So she was not in immediate need of money, but she might want more anyway. With all the expenses for Rheinsberg, Friedrich was in debt again, but he’d taken to letting himself be bribed by all the foreign envoys who imagined they’d secure goodwill from the future monarch this way, and would find themselves sorely mistaken in the future that he would not see if he did not find a way out of this particular disaster. There was still some cash available from the latest sum given by the Austrians. He was willing to use that to free his brother.
Heinrich was still a pest, but Friedrich had been imprisoned and not knowing whether he’d see the next day, and he did not wish this on anyone.
When he made this suggestion to Fredersdorf, however, his valet and unofficial treasurer shook his head. „That’s not what I meant by „letting go“, my prince, and not why I used myself as an example. You got me out of Schwerin’s regiment and transferred to your side, didn’t you? Whereas your noble father would never have approved if you had asked him to let me leave the service altogether. If you were to ask for Georg Hacke to be transferred from Potsdam to your own Regiment, not as a ransom for Prince Heinrich, but as a favour to you, I think the King’s Majesty might be amenable. Especially if you express the wish that your own regiment might boast of some tall men as well. He’ll see it as you following in his footsteps. And if George Hacke is stationed here at Neuruppin instead of Potsdam, he could be reunited with his wife in a way that does not require his leaving the army, either.“
He might, at that. There was always the chance he’d remember that it was Friedrich who’d given him this particular tall man to begin with, but it had been four years ago, and even if the King did remember: without knowing about the demand regarding Heinrich, he’d simply make some joke about Friedrich being cheap with his gifts but grant the request.
„That… is inspired. I could kiss you, Fredersdorf.“
Fredersdorf looked around. Friedrich’s secretary was busy conferring with Heinrich’s increasingly frantic tutor.
„Please do,“ he said.
Of course, there were plenty of things that could go wrong. Starting with the fact that if Mrs. Hacke didn’t deliver Heinrich soon, word would get out to the King, which would make the deal impossible, and if she kept Heinrich with her until she had her husband with her again because she had no reason to believe Friedrich would keep his word once he had his brother back and that she could end up whipped and imprisoned for her trouble, then word would get out.
In the end, the violinist felt guilty enough to volunteer to play go-between after leaving a message with the field preacher whose window had been shattered by Mrs. Hacker informing her there would be a counter offer. Friedrich had thought about ordering the violinist to try and overwhelm her if he saw Heinrich – the man was, after all, also a professional soldier, and Mrs Hacke a woman -, but as it turned out, she’d been clever enough not to bring the boy with her.
„Which means she has allies, or that she has a room to lock him up in,“ Friedrich said grimly. „Does she accept?“
„She wants your Royal Highness‘ valet as security until her husband arrives in Ruppin, and a written pardon for any crimes she might have committed.“
„Fredersdorf? She actually dares to ask for…“ Friedrich fell silent. Something had been nagging at him ever since Fredersdorf reminded him of the kidnapped shepherd. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, the missing piece of a puzzle. An idea came to him, something that would explain this entire outrageousness in a sensible way. But he could be wrong, and if he was, there was still the chance his father would kill him.
He voiced his theory to Fredersdorf, who thought about it, and declared it was possible, but that spending some days with an enterprising Mecklenburg shepherdess would be a small price to pay to solve this particular riddle.
By the next morning, a slightly dirtier Heinrich in a definitely dirtier uniform was sitting in Friedrich’s garden pavilion, ready to be collected by his brother. He looked up when Friedrich entered.
„I didn’t think you’d do it,“ he said, and jumped to his feet.
„That would surprise me,“ Friedrich replied, „given that it clearly was your idea to begin with.“
For the first time, he had the satisfaction of seeing Heinrich speechless, with an expression of genuine shock.
„Oh, not the wide-eyed look again. My dear boy, it was a clever plan, but just a coincidence too many. How would a shepherdess from Mecklenburg know to ask for Fredersdorf as security? How would she know you’d be here to be kidnapped if I didn’t even know you’d be visiting? When I wondered that, I realised I had the whole thing backwards. Her husband, of course, is serving in Potsdam, and you would have had the chance to encounter him a dozen times a day. Now I remember some of the tall fellows being nice to me when I was a child, especially those who had family and were missing them. Hacke befriended you, didn’t he? And you felt sorry for him.“
Heinrich pressed his lips together, and his expression was very, very familiar indeed. Then he exhaled.
„He misses his wife and home so much. He wanted to run away,“ he said softly. „And if he did that, they would have caught and hanged him. I know they would.“
„Yes,“ Friedrich said, thinking of the November morning he would never forget, thinking about Katte’s headless body which was lying in the court at his father’s orders for half the day so Friedrich could see it before it was taken away. „They would have.“
„First I thought that Wilhelm and I could ask our father directly. But he’s been in such a terrible mood these last months, and Wilhelm says he’s never let a soldier go. Pardoned one from execution, yes, when Wilhelm pleaded with him, but not let him leave the army. And then Wilhelm said you would surely help if we asked you. But you’ve been awful, and anyway I had a better plan.“
„Arranging your own kidnapping at ten years of age. I shudder to think what you’ll do as an adult.“
„Not much of anything, if you rat me out to our father,“ Heinrich retorted with spirit, but then he grew uncertain again. „Hacke will really be transferred here to Ruppin, though, won’t he? And he and his wife won’t be punished?“ he finished, sounding hopeful, but there also was an undertone of fear.
„They should be. For conspiring with a prince.“
„They didn’t conspire with me, I conspired with them. It was all my idea!“
Did Katte seduce you, or did you seduce Katte?“ his father’s harsh voice asked in Friedrich’s memory, and he heard his fervent declaration: „It was me! I seduced him! It was all my idea and my fault!“
He’d been eighteen, not ten, and he should have known better.
„So you are a liar in a good cause,“ Friedrich stated. „Which doesn’t make you less of a liar. You do realise I will never believe anything you say again?“
Heinrich’s face brightened „But you’ll let the Hackes be together again?“ he insisted.
Someone should be. Someone really should be, Friedrich thought.
„As long as Fredersdorf is back, relaxed and unharmed,“ he said. „He’s been working so hard since I took him into my service that I decided he needed a few day’s leave. But your Mrs. Hacke better not harm a hair on his body.“
„She’d never,“ Heinrich swore. „She’s nice. Desperate, but nice. And makes great roasted apples.“
He beamed. „I can’t wait for Hacke to get here. He’ll be the best Ruppin guardsman ever, you’ll see!“
„I might. But you won’t.“
Something of the joy left Heinrich’s eyes, which were of the family blue, albeit paler than Friedrich’s own. But his gaze didn’t waver.
„There’s a price for lying and gambling with people’s lives, my brother,“ Friedrich said. „No matter the intention. Someone has to pay for it. If they won’t, you will. You will not stay here and wait for Hacke’s arrival. You will leave with your tutor and return to Potsdam. It will be your responsibility to ensure your tutor never tells anyone about this. Oh, and for as long as I am Crown Prince, you will not darken my doorstep again. Neither here in Neuruppin, nor in Rheinsberg.“
„I promise“, Heinrich said, and stretched out his arm. It was a childish gesture, shaking hands, but Friedrich did it anyway. Heinrich’s fingers had already lost all the pudginess of a small child. They were long and thin, good for playing an instrument, and surprisingly strong.
„The things I do to have child free leisure time again,“ Friedrich said, with a not entirely artificial smile. While he did look forward to being rid of his visitor, he had to admit the entire affair had demonstrated to him that Heinrich might have his uses in the future. Once he’d outgrown the desire to use his mind to concoct insane escape schemes.
Then Heinrich surprised him. „Thank you,“ the boy said, to all appearances sincerely, and briefly kissed Friedrich’s hand before letting it go, as he would have done if Friedrich had been King already. When he returned to his study, Friedrich still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about all of this. Until, that was, he discovered that there were unmistakably greasy childish fingerprints on his treasured copy of Voltaire’s Henriade. And the sharpened quill and paper he’d been planning to use to continue to write a letter to his friend Suhm was missing.
He really should have let Mrs. Hacke keep the brat.