King Ferdinand's rooms, on the contrary, were never empty. He had lost his faithful wife, Anna of Bohemia, in January, but his son and daughter were lavish in dispensing their father's hospitality. Like his sister Mary, Ferdinand was very fond of music, and enjoyed listening to his fine Kapelle, while one of his favourite jesters was always present to amuse the Electors and Princesses at his table.[401] His son, the Archduke Max, as Ascham calls him, was a gay and pleasant gentleman, "of goodly person and stature," speaking eight languages, and very popular with all classes, especially the Lutherans, whose opinions he was supposed to affect. Charles's other nephew, Emanuel Philibert, the Prince of Piedmont, was another gallant squire of dames, as ready to take part in masque and dance as he was foremost in active warfare. Every evening there was music and dancing in the King's rooms, and the old halls of the merchants rang to the sound of laughter and melody. In that joyous throng the Countess Palatine was the gayest of the gay, and Christina forgot her sorrows to become young once more. [Sidenote: 1548] THE MARQUIS ALBERT] There was one man among the Princes assembled at Augsburg who gazed with frank admiration at the handsome Duchess; this was the Marquis Albert of Brandenburg, Lord of Culmbach and Burgrave of Nuremberg. While still a boy he succeeded to his father's principality in Franconia, and was educated by his uncle, the Duke of Prussia and Grand-Master of the Teutonic Order. Although brought up a Lutheran, he entered the Emperor's service before he was twenty, and fought gallantly in the wars of Cleves and Champagne. A wild and reckless spirit, who rode hard, drank deep, and knew no fear, Albert was adored by his soldiers, whose toils and hardships he shared with cheerful courage, while his name was the terror of all peaceful citizens. "Thunder and lightning, devouring fire," wrote a contemporary, "are not more terrible than the Marquis Albert on the battle-field."[402] But there was a fascination about this ruthless dare-devil which no woman could resist. His sisters were passionately devoted to him, and Bona, the Queen of Poland, tried in vain to marry him to one of her daughters. Roger Ascham describes him as "another Achilles, his face fair and beautiful, but stern and manly, with flowing locks and great rolling eyes, yet with a sad, restless look, as if he was ever seeking what he could not find. A man of few words withal, but with a deep, strong voice, ever more ready to hear than to speak."[403] There seemed no heights to which this soldier of fortune could not aspire. The Emperor treated him with fatherly affection, and the Queen and the Duchess of Lorraine honoured the sumptuous banquets, in which he displayed his usual prodigality, careless of the debts with which he was already loaded.