that.”
“I wish father were still alive. I can understand our cousin for feeling slighted, deprived even, of his inheritance, but to go so far as to plan the assassination of the King? For the love of Christ I cannot see what drove him to it.”
“Evil can be found in all men’s hearts if you look deep enough,” Leopold said.
“Father was a great man. Even the Jews would admit as much. But something in him changed when Rudolph died. I know you felt it too.”
Leopold knew exactly what Frederick meant. King Albrecht had had three sons. The oldest was Rudolph and it had been no secret that he was the King’s favorite. After many years of scheming and brilliant politics, Albrecht had secured the throne of Bohemia for his son Rudolph. Unfortunately, barely a year into his reign, Rudolph succumbed to a fever and died.
With the death of his eldest son, the aging Albrecht’s mind had come unhinged. Not all at once, in an obvious way, but to those closest to him, especially his sons Frederick and Leopold, the changes were readily apparent. He became forgetful, drank wine in the evenings, something he had forbidden his own sons to do, and appeared less frequently at the local courts he had fought so hard to establish during his reign.
Near the end, he would not be seen for days, and when he did appear, he was frequently in his cups. And then, one afternoon while crossing the Reuss River, he was attacked and killed by his nephew John and three fellow conspirators. The bloated bodies of John’s accomplices were found days later miles downstream but somehow John ‘the Parricide’ managed to escape the wrath of Albrecht’s sons and fled into hiding. Claiming Frederick had enough to worry about with being the head of the Habsburg family, and potentially the new Emperor of the Germans, Leopold had declared he would take it upon himself to find John and bring him to justice.
“You must be strong in this hour,” Leopold said. “All eyes are on you now, and if the princes see weakness you will never be elected to the throne. But more importantly, you cannot trust any of those nobles in the other room. They stand with you only because they need your strength to protect their lands. Not because of any past loyalty to our father. Never for a moment forget this.” Parasites, he thought. Every last one of them.
Frederick looked up from his chair, his usually smiling eyes now dark and red-rimmed. It hurt Leopold to see him this way. His brother was a simple man, honorable and just, if not overly wise. He would make a good king. Too good—the German princes would flay him alive. It would be best for all if Frederick was not a candidate for the throne, but Leopold knew that was impossible.
Their father had built the German Empire up for one of his sons to rule, and Frederick would give his life to honor his father’s ambitions, no matter the cost to himself. Everyone knew Frederick the Handsome’s honor and sympathy for his subjects were his greatest strengths, but Leopold saw them as weaknesses that would eventually lead to his downfall. And when he fell, as he most surely would, it was Leopold’s duty to ensure the Habsburg line survived. And the longer he kept Frederick alive, the longer he would have to increase the family’s private holdings. In Leopold’s mind, the acquisition of land and estates in the Habsburg name was the key to maintaining power.
That, and of course, the Stormriders.
“Promise me something,” Leopold said.
Frederick stared into the fire. “If I can,” he said.
“You will never relinquish control of the Sturmritter to another man. Not even your military advisors.” Especially them.
“Then I would ask something of you,” Frederick said.
Leopold’s head cocked to one side. It was unlike his brother to barter with him. With a great effort Frederick pushed himself up from his warm chair like a drowning man kicking to the water’s surface.
“Take the Fool with you to Aargau. It