Losing Count

Part One

by Nicholas Keyser

Early 1656

Katherine Rosencrantz knelt on the cold stone floor of the rounded chapel. Sleet pelted against the darkened stained glass windows, but she hardly noticed as she hurriedly murmured prayers in a hushed tone. She had been there for countless hours, refusing to take food or drink as she prayed that God would spare the life of her young husband, Valdemar. Valdemar Christian was away at battle. Ever since he had left, she felt a horrible pain in her stomach, as if it would be the last time they would ever see each other. She had marked the day in her diary, hoping that the feeling was naught.

At sixteen, she felt too young to be a widow. She had only been married a little over four years months to Valdemar. In four months' time they had barely the time to begin a family . How could God really be so cruel and take him away from her? She knew that He could and it terrified her. God could take him away from her just like He took her parents. She wanted to believe, like her mother, that God did everything in his infinite wisdom. She missed her home so much. She longed to run into her mother's arms they way she would when she had fallen down. Her mother had been very wise, and always had a place in her heart for her youngest daughter.

"Sophie, daughter," she would say. "You must be strong."

Now, slumped onto the cold stone floor in the wretched country she now called home, Katherine felt further away from her mother than ever before. She felt utterly alone. She knew that the outlook was grim for Valdemar, the feeling had been especially harsh this past week, making her feel like he was already dead.

What would become of her if Valdemar died? Almost none knew that the two of them were married. So it would be back to the life of nothing. There was a time when nothing would have made her happier She had been a stranger in a strange land with odd customs and she had no real friends, save for Valdemar. He had the one to help her overcome her fears. Once they were away from the king's court and his brother, her young husband seemed to thrive. He was patient and kind as he tried to teach her the ways of the Danish at their small court.

Slowly, but surely, she had been beginning to grow accustomed to her new country and she even saw the beauty in it. The weather had warmed and she and Christian were able to enjoy a ride through the countryside. Spring would come soon, he had promised her.

Then he left and spring did not come, Katherine thought bitterly. It grew bitterly cold again. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

"Blessed Mother," she prayed silently. "I kneel at your feet and beg you to implore your son to have mercy upon Valdemar. Let him live, let him be the king he was born to be. If you but grant my request I will build a shrine in this place to you and pilgrims around Europe who seek your protection and beg your aid will visit it. Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris Tui, Jesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Die, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae Amen."

When she had finished her prayer, Katherine lifted her head and sensed she was no longer alone. A hand was gently laid upon her shoulder but the young woman felt she would sink under its weight. She glanced up to see a messenger standing at the doorway. The look on his face was grim. Katherine straightened and braced herself for the news for which she prayed she would never have to hear.

"Your highness, it is your husband," he began, his voice wavering. Katherine closed her eyes and bowed her head. "His has fallen in battle."

A baby's cry broke the silence, and Katherine went to take care of their baby.

Grantville, 1634

This stuff is gonna take forever! thought Tom Driscoll as he neatly packed some old items from the old boxes in the attic into newer ones.

KNOCK, KNOCK

"Who is it?" he asked, as the attic door opened revealing his wife

"I thought you might like a snack while you study." Lena said as he noticed she was carrying a plate of cookies, along with a glass of milk.

"Thank honey." he said accepting the thoughtful gift.

"How goes the work?" Lena asked

"Not to well." he complained. "Going through all these records is exhausting."

"Oh my!" Lena said, looking at the pile. "Be sure you have to go through all these, that way we have the extra room for renters."

"Well at least let me help you go through them." Lena insisted as she pulled up a chair & grabbed a book.

Tom was about to object, but even he had to admit he needed help on this chore.

"Sure." he replied, bitting into a cookie.

"Oh my!" Lena said as she held up a book that looked old. She began to flip through a few of the first pages.

The spine was cracked, the cover was tattered, and the pages had turned yellow with age. From the looks of it, Tom figured it to be about three or four hundred years old.

"What's up?" asked Tom curious.

"I found a diary. Do you know a Katherine ######?"

"Not a Katherine, but my grandpa married a ######, after immigrating from Ireland."

"She's probably one of your grandma's ancestor's then." Lena said.

They began reading the first entry, trying to find out more about Katherine.

July 13th, 1646

Dear diary,

I do not know why I write in you, but I feel as though I must relief myself of the burden that has come unto my already heavy-laden shoulders. My mother has decided it is time for me to find a husband as is tradition for women who have turned sixteen.

As if being the sole heiress to my family is not enough, having to take up all the responsibilities that come with being a Lady, if Father were here he wouldn't make me marry some high classed boar that my mother keeps throwing at me in hope I accept one of their proposals.

She just does not understand I cannot marry without love, I want to know what love is and I hope that one day I will find it. I pray that I will find the man that can give me love now that we sail for Spain.

That is all that I have ... hope.

For today I met the king of Denmark's son, Christian. He was very sweet and kind. Maybe my mother is actually beginning to understand me...

"Honey, do you know what this means?" Lena asked, closing the diary.

Tom didn't really like to get involved with one of Lena's delusions of grandeur. She had even tried to marry their son off to a count's daughter, to no avail, of course.

"This is proof that you have noble blood. I bet that if you showed this to king Christian, or even the king of Sweden, they would grant you a title."

Tom didn't think it was going to work, but pressured by Lena, he sent a letter to King Christian detailing the discovery of the dairy.

How should you address a king, he thought, beginning the letter, maybe I should just address him as your majesty.

Your Majesty,

I have recently discovered a family heirloom of my [such and such] grandmother. Details in her diary revealed that she was Katherine , the mistress of your son Valdemar Christian. Eventually their grandaughter married my grandfather who immigrated to the United States of America.

My wife wanted me to write this letter to ask you if this evidence would warrant enoblement. However, even if it does, I would not want ennoblement under such terms in order to satisfy my wife.

I am reminded of a quote of an author, "It is said that power corrupts, but actually it is more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted to other things than power" If I were ever to gain such a status, I hope it to be based on character and not on who my family was.

Honorably,

Thomas Driscoll

The return letter was not at all what he had expected. The parcel had stamped on it in red wax, the royal seal of Denmark.

He was to be made Count of the Faroe Islands. The letter didn't specifically mention why he had been made count.

His wife would be ecstatic.