Tempered Steel

by Paul J Bennett

  “They’re all long dead,” said Ludwig. “And in any event, their tactics and weapons wouldn’t stand against the warriors we have these days.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “That’s easy. By today’s standards, they were quite primitive.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, for one thing, their armour. They had nothing better than chainmail in those days. They certainly didn’t have the plate armour we use now. It hadn’t been invented yet.”

  “True,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean their army would be weak.”

  “We’ve also developed different tactics.”

  “You seem to know a lot about them,” she said.

  “Only their military. It's something that’s always interested me.”

  “So how have tactics changed?”

  “The Therengians used mainly foot troops,” Ludwig warmed to the topic. “They hadn’t yet discovered how important cavalry was. Some people say it was that weakness that ultimately led to their defeat.”

  “Do you mean to say they had no horses?”

  “Oh, they had horses, all right, but they didn’t use them the same way that we do today. They are said to have only employed them to travel to the battlefield, dismounting to attack or defend. There’s no indication that they used mounts in any tactical sense in their actual battles.”

  “Astounding,” she said.

  “You have to remember, the other kingdoms were the same. Ever since ancient times, horsemen have been rare on the battlefield. It wasn’t until men adopted heavier armour that they became more effective.”

  “I can’t agree with you,” Charlaine said. “The history of Calabria says otherwise.”

  “I’m sure your homeland was wonderful, but you can’t seriously compare it to Therengia?

  “Why? Because it clashes with your own ideas? Calabria was fighting with horses long before Hadenfeld existed.”

  Ludwig fell silent as he thought things through.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to argue.”

  “No, that’s quite all right. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  As they cleared the trees, a long plain stretched out before them.

  “Only a few more miles,” he said, “then we’ll enter some trees. The river is close by.”

  Charlaine took one look at the open fields then urged her horse into a gallop. “I’ll race you,” she called out.

  Not to be outdone, he spurred on his own mount, tearing across the meadow in hot pursuit.

  * * *

  Charlaine got her first glimpse of the river as they cleared the trees later that morning, but the sounds of rushing water were heard long before that. They rode to its western bank, watching as the dirty water cascaded by.

  “The river’s higher than usual,” said Ludwig. “They must have had rain to the south.”

  “It’s much wider than I would have thought. Does this mark the border?”

  “It does,” he confirmed. “The land on the eastern side is part of Neuhaufen.”

  She looked upstream, then down. “Does the river go all the way to the Great Northern Sea?”

  “That’s what they say, but I can’t say for certain. It starts quite some distance to the south of Hadenfeld. Convenient for us as it forms both our eastern and southern border.”

  “And yet you leave it unprotected.”

  “This is wilderness,” he said, “there’s really nothing worth protecting here.”

  “Then why are we here?” she asked.

  “Ah,” he said, “to answer that mystery, we need to follow the river downstream. Follow me.”

  He led her into the water, staying close to the western bank. It was much easier than traversing the woods and gave them a break from the uneven ground thereabouts.

  They had only travelled a few hundred yards when the river turned, revealing the wreck of a ship in the distance.

  “What’s this?” said Charlaine.

  Ludwig halted. “I knew you’d be intrigued,” he said. “It’s an old trader that ran aground years ago.”

  “How old is it?”

  “Older than me,” he said, “I first discovered it when I was only twelve, and it was old even then.”

  “It’s on the other side of the river,” she said, “how do we get to it?”

  “There’s a shallow section close by,” he said, “we’ll cross there and make our way back up the other bank.”

  They began to ride past, but Charlaine halted to take it all in. “It’s quite large," she said. “How did it run aground?”

  “I have no real way to know for sure, but I suspect the river flooded at some point. When the water receded, it likely stranded the thing.”

  “Is there treasure aboard?”

  “If there was, it was stripped long ago. Once we get across, I’ll show you, the whole side of the thing has been ripped open.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Likely scavengers.”

  “Animals did that?”

  He laughed. “No, human scavengers. A ship like that would have been a tempting target, but whatever they found was taken years ago. Tell me, have you ever been aboard a boat?”

  “No,” she said, “at least, not as far as I know. My parents took a ship from Calabria, but I wasn’t born yet. What about you? Ever been on one?”

  “No,” he admitted, “though it would be interesting to see one that was in good shape. They say there are people that spend their entire lives travelling up and down rivers like the Hanse here, can you imagine?”

  “The Hanse? Is that what you call it? What a particularly strange name.”

  “I imagine it was named after the person that discovered it,” said Ludwig, “either that or it’s from some ancient language.”

  “Maybe it’s Therengian?” he suggested.

  “No,” he replied, “we renamed anything that sounded Therengian, as did most of the Petty Kingdoms.”

  “You hated them that much?”

  “That’s what I’m told,” said Ludwig, “though I wasn’t there in person when it happened.”

  He waited until she returned her gaze to him.

  “Let’s continue, shall we? The shallows are up ahead.”

  They rode on, soon finding the area in question. It was deeper than she had expected, but they managed to splash across the other side with little trouble, the water rising only to their horses belly's. They then turned south, now on the eastern bank. It didn’t take them long to pull up in front of the wreck.

  Charlaine dismounted, walking forward cautiously, her attention all on the ruined ship.

  There was a hole in the rotted hull of the thing, and Ludwig clasped her hand, leading her through it.

  “Come on,” he urged, “you’ve got to see this.”

  Inside, the place was like a large cavern, with wooden walls that stretched upward. The ship was laying almost on its side, its masts, broken and warped, reaching eastward.

  “This is the hull,” he said, “you can see the ribs that gave it strength.”

  She sat down, choosing one of the ribs as a seat, her eyes taking in all around her. “I wonder what distant lands this thing has seen,” she said.

  “Likely not much more than this river,” he said.

  “But you said ships like this travel all over the place, and this river goes to the sea.”

  “So it does,” he admitted.

  “Then it must pass through dozens of kingdoms.”

  “I imagine most of the way is much like this,” he said, “overgrown with forest.”

  “You need more of an imagination,” she said. “Try to imagine what it was like in its heyday.”

  “There are upper decks,” he said, “but they’re mostly overgrown.”

  “I’d love to travel some day,” she said.

  “Then you may have picked the wrong profession,” he said. “I’ve never heard of a travelling smith before.”

  “Would
n’t a large ship have a smith?”

  “I have no idea. I suppose it’s quite possible, but it’s not something I have any knowledge of.”

  They fell silent, the stillness of their surroundings broken only by the sound of the river rushing by.

  “It’s certainly quiet here,” she noted.

  “Too quiet,” he said, “we should be hearing birds. We’d best get going.”

  “Going? But we only just arrived?”

  “We can come back another day,’ he said, “I don’t think it’s safe here right now.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s out there, something that’s quieted the birds.”

  He reached out, offering his hand.

  She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

  “Come,” he whispered, “as quietly as possible.”

  He led her back outside where their horses waited.

  Charlaine pulled herself into the saddle while Ludwig scanned the trees. “See anything?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” he replied. He place his foot into the stirrup, then mounted in one smooth motion, his attention focused southward.

  Charlaine heard it first, the sound of horses splashing through the river. She pointed, and Ludwig glanced at her target. Six horsemen came into sight, trotting along the river at a casual pace.

  The visitors soon spotted the duo, calling out for them to halt.

  Ludwig dug in his spurs. “Come on,” he said, “we must flee.” His horse exploded into action, heading north.

  Charlaine, caught unawares, hesitated for but a moment.”

  “You there,” called out a rider, “surrender yourself.”

  She felt panic grip her and she dug in her spurs, causing Emerald to race forward as she struggled to keep upright in the saddle.

  The visitor’s armour rattled as they took off in pursuit.

  Charlaine struggled to keep Ludwig in sight as he tore through the woods. She ducked just in time to avoid being struck by a branch, then she leaned low, desperate to escape her pursuers.

  Ludwig jogged left, disappearing from sight, but the sound of crashing branches was easy to discern.

  Charlaine risked a look behind her, only to see soldiers gaining on her. Her horse suddenly slowed, and she turned to see a tree looming to her front. The next thing she knew, a horseman was beside her, grasping for her reins.

  She reached out, instinctively, locking her fingers around the man's wrist and twisting, forcing the arm downward as best she could. He gave a sharp cry of pain, then tumbled from the saddle, cursing the entire way. His companions, still some distance off, called out, ordering her to surrender but Charlaine, her adrenalin coursing through her body, could only think to flee. She turned Emerald west, heading in the rough direction of the river.

  She had lost sight of Ludwig in the fracas and was now in a blind panic. Every detail of the woods seemed to be in focus, every snap of wood magnified and then her horse crashed into the water.

  The water rose rapidly and then they hit the middle of the river and Emerald began to float, propelling herself across the river instinctively. Charlaine clung on for dear life, gripping her saddle as if her very life depended on it. The water soon grew more shallow and her horse pulled them clear of the river.

  On the opposite bank, she spotted two soldiers. One had entered the water, but the rider's horse refused to go any farther, clearly fearing the current.

  She cast her eyes around, searching for signs of Ludwig, but to no avail.

  The soldiers cursed and swore but lacking bows, there was little else they could do. They watched, helpless, as Charlaine entered the woods heading west, soon disappearing from sight.

  She rode far enough to be out of sight of the soldiers, then turned north, determined to find the crossing. It was, of course, a risk, as the soldiers themselves might be aware of it, but it was the most likely way to locate Ludwig.

  Charlaine soon found him. He was hugging the western bank and riding south, searching the other side of the river, likely for her.

  She called, and he snapped his head around, smiling in relief as their eyes met.

  “You had me worried,” he said, “one moment you were right behind me, the next…”

  “My horse slowed,” he said, “and one of them tried to capture me.”

  “Obviously, to little effect,” he said, “how did you get away.”

  “We swam,” she said.

  “That’s one brave horse,” he said, “I doubt my horse would have been so bold.”

  “It’s only water,” said Charlaine, “horses can swim, you know.”

  “True, but the weight of the rider can sink them, especially when armour is worn.”

  “But you’re not wearing armour,” she said.

  “No, but the soldiers were.”

  “Who where they?”

  “Likely soldiers from Neuhaufen,” he said, “I suspect a patrol to keep the borders safe.”

  “Will there be trouble?”

  “I don’t see why there should be, I doubt they recognized us.”

  “Why were they so concerned? Surely people can ride in these woods?”

  “You have to understand,” said Ludwig. “The Petty Kingdoms are, as a rule, terribly obsessive when it comes to their borders.”

  “But all we did was visit that wreck.”

  “True, but in their minds, we violated their sovereign territory.”

  “That hardly excuses their actions,” she said. “They could have simply talked to us. Instead, they came after us like we're common thieves.”

  He laughed. “Well, to be honest, in their minds we probably were. They must have thought we were trying to steal from the wreckage.”

  “There’s nothing left of value to steal!”

  “True,” he replied, “but they don’t know that.”

  She urged her horse forward, taking up a position beside him. “What now?”

  “Now we ride home,” he said, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “Promise me something won’t you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Next time you decide we’re going to invade another country, let me in on it before hand?”

  “I promise,” he said.

  13

  The Village

  Autumn 1094 SR

  * * *

  It was a cold autumn day with a wind that seemed to howl in from the west. Ludwig pulled his cloak closer, trying to ward off the chill, but the breeze seemed to penetrate the fine material, penetrating to his very bones.

  Charlaine rode beside him, her breath frosting in the air.

  “How far is this place?” she asked.

  “Not much farther,” he said.

  “You said that some time ago.”

  “I was wrong then.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I’m hoping we’re close."

  “We must have ridden close to five miles,” she said.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “and that’s the distance to Eramon. It can’t have just vanished.”

  “Are you sure? Perhaps there’s some strange magic to this place?”

  He looked at her in surprise, but soon saw the look of amusement on her face.

  “Very funny,” he said.

  “Tell me again why we’re going to this village?”

  “My father sent me to look into something.”

  “And he wanted me along?”

  “No,” he said, “that was my idea. I thought it might be a nice ride. Of course, I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold.”

  “Neither was I, it was warm when we started out. So tell me, what is it your father wants you to investigate?”

  “There have been reports that some of his soldiers have been misbehaving.”

  “Misbehaving? You mean like getting drunk?”

  “No, something far more serious. He thinks they’ve been over charging when collecting ta
xes and pocketing the excess.”

  “Is that serious?” she asked.

  “Very. My father would be quite within his rights to execute someone over such a thing.”

  “I find that surprising, I didn’t think he’d care.”

  “Oh, he takes his responsibilities as baron incredibly serious. He doesn’t much like the notion of his men taking advantage of him.”

  “And so he sent you?”

  “Who else could he trust?”

  “What about that aide of his?” she asked.

  “Kasper? He’s a loyal man, but far too busy to deal with something like this. That’s why he sent me.”

  The road twisted around a small copse of trees and the village came into sight.

  “Finally!” he said, “I thought we’d never arrive.”

  The rode in amongst the small cluster of huts, no more than a dozen in number. A couple of villagers paused in their work, pitchforks in hand, staring at the visitors with interest.

  Ludwig halted and began lowering himself from the saddle. Charlaine stayed in the saddle, watching their observers.

  He approached them, nodding a greeting. “Good day,” he said, “I’m Ludwig, Baron Verfeld’s son.”

  They both bowed somewhat clumsily.

  “My lord,” the elder man replied, while his younger companion looked on in fear.

  “I wonder if I might have a word with you,” Ludwig continued.

  “Of course, Lord, what would you like to know?”

  “I understand soldiers have been through of late, collecting taxes.”

  “Aye,” said the old man, “’tis common this time of year.”

  “Might I ask what tithe you usually pay?”

  “’Fraid I don’t understand,” the man said.

  “Sorry,” said Ludwig, “let me rephrase the question. How much do you usually pay in taxes?”

  “That’s a strange question for one of the baron’s people,” the man replied.

  Charlaine dismounted, coming closer, intrigued by the conversation.

  “Good sir,” she said, “might I ask your name?”

  He nodded his head in greeting. “My name’s Deiter, Deiter Macken, and this is my son, Dolf.”