The troupe traveled to the western borders of the Russian empire. There had been rumors of an upcoming war between two Polish noblemen, each of them having enough money to pay for the help the mercenaries could sell.
So they went to first one, and when he would not pay the price Captain Suomi asked, they contacted the other. He was willing pay the price asked.
During the days before the battle Isegrim grew more and more eager to for the fight to start. He paced back and forth in their logdings, and the other soldiers were happy that Rot-Schwantz was there to talk him out of the more restless bouts of impatience.
"When will they end the diplomacy and start the war?" Isegrim asked one day
"I think to-morrow. The diplomats look less and less hopeful now", said Captain Suomi from the other side of the room.
"Good!"
Pärleyxa said to Rot-Schwantz: "Isegrim is a berserker. Where I come from we have legends about them. Invincible in war, and blood- thirsty."
"I've never seen him like this."
"You have not known him for very long."
"I guess I'll just have to remember what he is like when there is not a war going on."
"A wise decision. According to legend, the berseks were also very nice people in times of peace."
The battle began three days later.
It was Rot-Schwantz' first battle.
He fought with the axe he had borrowed from Isegrim, and killed at least three from the other side, and wounded four more. Isegrim was fighting like a demon from hell, looping of heads with his sword. A couple of times he saved Rot-Schwantz' back. When the batte was over, after three days, Rot-Schwantz had gotten his first wounds; a scar over the left cheek, and a bullet in his left arm.
"Well, Rot-Schwantz", said Le Neigeux as he put a bandage around the young man's arm, "what did you think of your first battle?"
"I didn't know I could fight like that. I never thought I was a killer."
"Everone can be a killer, given the right circumstances."
"Where's Isegrim?"
"Still at the battlefield. He's looking for a pair of new boots for you, and some weapons too."
"Is he plundering the corpses?"
"They are dead. They don't need the boots any more, but you do. And a sword."
Rot-Schwantz did not answer, and when Isegrim arrived with a pair of boots, he tried them on.
"They are too small", he said.
"Then give me your old boots so I can get the right size."
The other pair Isegrim brought fit perfectly.
Isegrim found for himself a pair of very ornate riding-boots, that most probably had belonged to one of the higher officers. They were ornate with buckles along the sides, and spurs with a twisted look.
"That fellow, with the boots, he was the son of him who would not pay our price", Isegrim told the others with a grin.
"Well, he saved a few coins, but it cost him his son", commented Captain Suomi.
When Rot-Schwantz had put on his new boots he rose and began to get used to them. He walked to the battle-field and looked at the dead, not one muscle moving in his face. From one corpse he picked up a sword with belt and scabbard, and from another a new satchel.
"You do not need these anymore," he whispered, "but I do."
Then he saw the horse.
The grey steed, a gelding with grey mane and tail was an extrordinary kind of horse, bred to be durable on the battlefield. It wandered around aimlessly on the battle-field, sniffing at one body here and one body there. Rot-Schwantz went closer to it to see what it was doing.
Then he walked to meet the horse with his hands in front of him. The horse sniffed at his hands, and soon let the young mercenary pat him and lead him by the reins.
"Look here what I've found!" He said to the other men.
"Finders are keepers," replied Captain Suomi and asked Rot-Schwantz what he would call the steed.
"He's gray, so I'll call him Dust."
All the others laughed and said that it was a good name for a gray horse.
The troupe left the area after a couple of weeks. For the next three years they traveled all over Europe, seeking work at the battlefields. Some members died and new ones were added to the group.
One day in january 1774, when they were wintering over in the south of France, Captain Suomi told the troupe that the Hessian king wanted people to send over to America.
"They pay well, and I for one would like to see what that 'New World' looks like."
"Me too", said Le Neigeux, and the others agreed.
The journey to Hesse-Kassel was not very exciting, so everyone in the troupe had the time to talk about this New World across the Atlantic. Jete-Le-Jaune was the only one who had at least read a few lines about the colonies and thus he was made the resident expert on America. He told the others about what he had read, and they asked him questions about the land.
Only Isegrim did not ask a single word.
Rot-Schwantz asked him if he was not curious about the voyage to the new world.
"No", was the answer.
"Why not?"
"We will be there to fight, and one battle is pretty much like another."
"I wonder if we will see any of those red-skinned Indians Jete-Le-Jaune talked about."
"We won't fight Indians, we will fight colonists, and last time he said anything about that, they were white."
"Well, be as it will be, but to-morrow we'll arrive to Kassel."
Isegrim nodded and they went to bed.
The barracks in which the soldiers were housed were not very luxurious, but there was a yard where the soldiers were exercising from sunrise to sunset. Isegrim was excused from these drills since he had explained to the commander that he would not participate in such pointless strutting.
One day an artist named Peter Vogel came to the rooms where Captain Suomi and his troupe resided. He explained to them that he was painting a satire over the Hessian king and his council.
"What do you need us for then? To protect you?"
"No. You see there's this painting of the King and his council and on my painting I will place you exactly like them. You, Sir, will be seated exactly like the King."
"That do sound like an amusing thing to me, but you'll have to ask the others if they want to pose for you."
"Oh, no need for that. I'll just stick around and make sketches of you."
And Vogel did hang around with his sketchpad and his pencils, and the mercenaries either ignored him or tolerated him.
One week before they would leave for the ships awaiting them
Peter Vogel brought a friend to the barracks. The friend was introduced to Captain Suomi as Claus Aschenbach.
Rot-Schwantz was nearby, tending to his horse in a corner of the yard when he overheard a conversation between the two artists.
"I'm certain that man called Isegrim is my brother, he who ran away from the Academy twenty-two years ago", said Aschenbach.
"If it's been such a long time ago how could you recognize him?"
"Because he is a spitting image of our father."
"What are you going to do then?"
"I don't know. He's crazy isn't he?"
It was then Rot-Schwantz decided to cut into the discussion.
"If he had money he'd be called eccentric, not crazy, or mad!"
Aschenbach blushed, and nodded.
"That young fellow is the one closest to Isegrim," said Vogel, pointing to the young man.
"Can you take me to him?" Aschenbach asked Rot-Schwantz.
"Yes, but don't upset him."
Isegrim was in the stables, yelling at a stable-boy who had forgot about the water to Daredevil.
Rot-Schwantz went to him and told him he had visitors.
Isegrim turned around to see who they were.
"Hello", said Aschenbach with a little smile, "long time no see."
"Who are you?" Isegrim asked.
"I'm your brother; Claus."
"I have no brother."
"But I am your brother! Georg, please remember!"
"As I said, I don't know you. Now get out!"
Isegrim drew his axe for more emphasis.
Vogel took Aschenbach by the arm and dragged him out.
"I told you not to upset him!" Rot-Schwantz yelled after them.
Le Neigeux had overheard the commotion and came to the stables just as Vogel and Aschenbach left.
"What has happened here?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Isegrim and Rot-Schwantz.
"Somehow I doubt that," said the older soldier, "But we are leaving in a week and 'nothing' better *not* happen again."
"Yes. Sir."
For the remainder of that week, 'nothing' did not happen again, but Rot-Schwantz saw Aschenbach outside the gates of the camp a few times.
But since he never paid much attention to people that did not either have money or were soldiers, he did not care much about that.
When that last week was over, the Hessian troupes left for America.
The journey was long and strenuous. First the Hessian troupes marched to the ports where the ships were waiting, and then there was the sea voyage.
Rot-Schwantz had not thought that it would be such a long voyage to America, so he was a bit surprised when he learned that the travel over the Atlantic was going to take more than a month. He had never been out on the sea for that long, and neither had any of the other soldiers.
Everything and everyone had been loaded onboard the ship. The horses had been installed in their 'stables', and Isegrim had managed to get a cot installed there so he could keep a close eye on Daredevil. As for Rot-Schwantz, he slept wherever Isegrim slept.
The British and the Hessian officers lifted an eyebrow at this, and a few said something about that, but in the end no-one dared to do anything about it. After all, as one of the older sergeants said, who were they to fight the devils. Let the priests do that.
After a long voyage, during which Isegrim and many of the others were often sea-sick, and always sick of being on a ship at all, they saw their first glimpse of the shores of America.
Daredevil and Dust were very unsteady on their legs as they walked ashore.
"I think they are about as worried as we are about the ground suddenly tilting one way or the other instead of being still", said Rot-Schwantz sitting on the ground together with the other mercenaries.
"I cant't believe I would be so happy seeing a plain ordinary piece of land", exclaimed Jete-Le-Jaune.
"I'm never ever gonna get aboard one of these floating coffins again for as long as I live!" Pärleyxa shouted, and the others agreed. "I'd rather either die here or open an inn somewhere", he continued.
"Then I'll join you", replied Jete-Le-Jaune.
"And if we survive, count me in", added Rot-Schwantz
"What about you Isegrim?"
"I'll die before that happen", Isegrim answered.
"You don't want to have an inn?" asked Rot-schwantz.
"I mean that I'll probably won't survive for that long."
"I see."
The months went by. One battle here, a couple of traitors there on both sides, diseases and all the other things that were part of war decimated Captain Suomi's troupe and the rest of the army as well.
One day a year had gone by since they got to the strange shores of the New World. Nobody said anything about it. It was not a reason to celebrate after all.
Isegrim got more and more introspective, barely saying anything at all.
"Do you know what's wrong with him", Captain Suomi asked Rot-Schwantz one day, near the end of their second fall in America.
"No, but I think he is going mad."
"He already is that."
"Not eccentric, just mad, mad as in crazy, mad as in not having a grip on the world anymore."
"Has he threatened you?"
"No, but I sometimes catch him staring at something that's not there, and then he says things like 'why am I inside a burning windmill.'
Captain Suomi digested this for a few moments.
"I see", he said eventually.
One day, in the beginning of 1777, they entered a small village outside New York. It was a loyalist village and the inhabitants cheered as the soldiers paraded by the small houses. Everything went well, except for a prankster who tried to upset Rot-Schwantz' and Isegrim's horses.
Their camp were a few miles north of the village. One week later they fought yet a battle against the Americans.
The battle went like all other battles. One side won, the other had therefore lost, and after the proclamation they counted their dead.
Rot-Schwantz had been shot in the leg and was brought to the field hospital, where an overworked field surgeon bandaged it and told him to rest the leg for a while.
Four days later Rot-Schwantz came down with a fever. He did not say anything about it to anyone, though they could see that something was wrong with him.
When they finally understood that something was wrong with him, it was already too late. He was asked to go to the field surgeon, but he said no.
Captain Suomi suggested that he could try and stay out of the next battle, which was to take place the next morning, but the young man insisted on taking part of it. Since they realized that Rot-Schwantz would not be persuaded to hide somewhere or to go to the sickbay, he was helped up on his horse the following morning. He was tied to the saddle so that he would not fall off during the day.
Isegrim rode beside him to the appointed place and held him by the arm to steady him, and could feel how hot his friend was.
When the sun set on the battlefield Rot-Schwantz was found dead in the saddle on his horse. He looked like a scarecrow. When they had taken his body down from the horse they found that he had bee hit in the chest with five bullets. It could not be decided which one that had been the killing one.
Epilogue:
Isegrim died two years later in a fight with a group of American soldiers.
Jete-Le-Jaune, Le Neigeux and Pärleyxa, who were the only ones in the troupe still living after the war, stayed in America, and did open an inn, in the countryside outside New York.