“Her name was… IS Charlaine. She’s the daughter of a swordsmith and is a master smith in her own right.”
“Let me guess: your father forbade you to marry her?”
“He wouldn’t even allow me to see her.”
“And would you have married her, had your father approved?”
“Yes," admitted Ludwig, "I believe I would have. She was unlike any other woman I’d ever been with.”
“Where is she now?”
“Far from here. She became a Temple Knight of Saint Agnes.”
Sigwulf looked into his eyes with a penetrating gaze. “You’re still in love with her.”
“I suppose I am, not that it matters. She serves her Saint now.”
“I win,” said Sigwulf.
“You win what?”
“I have the worst story.”
“I have a lost love,” defended Ludwig. “How can it get any worse than that?”
Sigwulf poked himself in the chest with his thumb. “I have a price on my head.” He saw the look of defeat on Ludwig’s face. “See? I told you mine was worse.”
“All right, you win… or lose, depending on your point of view.”
“Are you two done babbling?” asked Dorkin. “'Cause if so, the gruel is ready. Pass me those bowls, will you?”
Ludwig reached forward, fetching the requested items and passing them to Dorkin. The man ladled some gruel into them before handing them back.
Sigwulf scooped up some with his fingers, pouring it into his mouth. “Wow,” he said through a mouthful, “that’s hot.”
“What did you expect?” said Ludwig. “It just came off the fire.”
“He never learns,” added Dorkin.
“You be quiet,” snapped Sigwulf.
Ludwig chose to let his food cool. “Where’s Cyn?”
“The captain wanted to see her.”
“Is that typical?”
“Not particularly,” said Sigwulf. “Why? Are you worried about something?”
“No, merely curious. I suppose I’m simply used to seeing you two together.”
“She’s more than capable of looking after herself.” Sigwulf tipped up the bowl, pouring the gruel into his mouth to finish it off. The bowl came down again, and he looked at Ludwig, then at his breakfast. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Yes,” said Ludwig. “I’m waiting for it to cool.”
Sigwulf’s eyes wandered past him. “You’d better not wait too long. Here comes the captain now.”
Ludwig turned, his meal forgotten. Captain Ecke was walking at a brisk pace, collecting men as he went. Cyn followed in his wake, along with the others. “This doesn’t look good.”
“Nonsense,” said his companion. “He doesn’t look mad.” Even as he spoke, Sigwulf rose, prompting Ludwig to do likewise.
“There you are,” called out the captain. “I’ve been looking for you, Sig.”
“Me? What for?”
“You’ll find out in a moment.” Ecke looked around, taking in the crowd and raising his voice. “I was hoping to gather the entire company, but this will have to do. I've been thinking things over and have decided to implement a few changes around here.”
Grumbles erupted from the crowd, and he held up his arms to halt it. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. These changes will make it easier for you to have your say, not to mention easing the strain of getting your pay.”
“Go on, then,” called out someone. “Get on with it!”
Ecke smiled. “As you know, I organized the Grim Defenders along military lines.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” came another voice.
The captain ignored the jibe. “I have decided to create the rank of sergeant to better enable me to keep my eye on things. As such, I have picked three people who will, as a result, receive an extra share when it comes time to divide up the pay.”
The crowd fell quiet.
“The first person to be elevated to the rank of sergeant is…” He paused, drawing it out for dramatic effect. “Sigwulf.”
“Me?” the big man replied. “Why would you do that?”
“He offered it to me,” said Cyn, “but what do I know about reading?”
Ecke held out his hand. “What do you say, Sig? Will you take the offer? It doubles your pay.”
“Of course.”
Everyone cheered, for Sigwulf was known as a fair man, the perfect candidate for such a position.
“The second person to receive the rank of sergeant is Baldric.” The captain scanned the crowd. “Where is he?”
“He’s indisposed,” called out Emile.
“Hungover is more like it,” added Quentin.
“Then I’ll let you give him the good news.”
“And the third?” asked Sigwulf.
“The third I shall hold off on for now. I’d like to see how things work out for the next week or so before making an announcement. Now, are there any questions?”
Ludwig stepped up to the challenge. “How will the command be split? Will each sergeant command half the company, and if so, how do people know which half they’re in?”
“All good questions,” replied the captain, “but I’ve only just announced the rank. Fear not, gentlemen, you shall have your answers in due time.”
Dorkin cleared his throat. “Any word on this new contract?” he asked.
“I am awaiting a reply from the baron. Once he gives us leave to march, we shall travel to Mulsingen. There, he will review the company and decide whether or not he will employ us. Until that time, he's putting us on half pay, to guarantee we don't find employment elsewhere.”
A cheer went up, for half pay was better than none at all.
“Now,” continued the captain, “I have better things to do than spend all morning chatting with you lot. Congratulations, Sigwulf, and pass on my regards to Baldric.”
He turned to leave, but Sigwulf caught him by the arm. “Excuse me, sir, but what do my new duties entail?”
“Come by my tent this afternoon, and I shall be happy to explain it to you. In the meantime, you should celebrate while you can.”
“While I can?”
“Of course,” said Ecke. “Once you’re a sergeant, you’ll be far too busy for such things.” He strode off, an enormous grin on his face.
Sigwulf looked at Cyn. “What have you gotten me into?”
She simply smiled back.
“I suppose,” said Dorkin, “we’ll have to get him a bigger helmet?”
Sigwulf shot him a look, but the cook clearly missed it.
“You know,” the man continued, “to go with his swelled head!”
The crowd burst into laughter, causing the giant of a man to turn a bright crimson.
“Don’t worry, Siggy,” said Cyn, taking his arm. “It’s all for the best.”
“Yes,” added Ludwig. “You can save up all the extra pay you’ll get and buy a nice big castle for yourself.”
“Very funny,” said Sigwulf. “You'd better watch yourself, my friend. Knight or not, you’re under my command now.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” said Ludwig, grinning, “but let’s hope so. I don’t much fancy my chances under Baldric.”
“Well said,” added Cyn. “Now, who’s for that celebration?”
* * *
Ludwig passed the jug across, watching in disbelief as Sigwulf emptied the entire contents down his throat. Half of it dripped down his chin, but the amount the huge man could imbibe was still impressive.
“Is he always like this?” asked Ludwig.
“No,” said Cyn, “sometimes he really lets loose.”
He wasn’t sure if she was serious and was about to say so, but then a familiar face came into view. “Brother Vernan?”
The lay brother smiled, moving to join them at their table. The Hammer was busy, this being the last day of the tournament, and the ale flowed freely. Vernan had to push hard to break through the t
hrong of people.
“What are we celebrating?” he called out, raising his voice to be heard above the din.
Ludwig put a mug in the good fellow's hand. “Sig here’s been promoted to sergeant.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes,” said Ludwig, “yes, indeed. How's the mission?”
“It’s doing well, my friend.”
“But?”
“What makes you believe there’s a but?”
“Simple,” said Ludwig, “your manner. You have a look of melancholy about you.”
“Do I? I definitely didn’t intend to.”
“What is it, then? Come on, out with it.”
“They’re sending me to Eidenburg.”
Ludwig grinned. “They're not making you into a Sister of Saint Agnes, are they?”
Brother Vernan appeared upset but relented when he saw the look of mirth on Ludwig’s face. “Very funny. No, they’re sending me to be ordained.”
“They’re making you into a Holy Father?”
“So it would seem.”
“Why, that’s wonderful news, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.”
“Then why so glum?”
“I find I’ve come to like it here,” admitted Brother Vernan, “and a Holy Father has so many more responsibilities.”
“Nonsense,” said Ludwig. “It’s a step up, and make no mistake, you’ll make a great father.”
“What did you say?” said Cyn.
“I was talking to Brother Vernan.”
“Did I hear you say he's going to be a father?” she continued. “I didn’t think they allowed lay brothers to have children.”
“No,” said Ludwig. “I meant he’ll make a good HOLY Father. By the Saints, woman, he can’t have children; he’s celibate.” He turned to Brother Vernan. “You are celibate, aren’t you?”
Vernan blushed. “Yes, of course. It's a requirement of our order.”
“There, you see?”
“Come now,” said Cyn, “can you honestly say that out of the thousands of lay brothers who work for Saint Mathew, not one of them has lain with a woman?”
To Ludwig’s amusement, the Holy Brother turned an even darker shade of crimson. “First of all," started Vernan, "brothers' vows only apply AFTER they have joined the order. Many had families before they found their true calling.”
Cyn was obviously relishing the conversation. “And second?”
“We do not ‘work’ for Saint Mathew. We follow his teachings.”
“No wonder he has no descendants. You wouldn’t catch me joining the order.”
“Women can’t join the Order of Saint Mathew, can they?” asked Ludwig.
“No,” said Brother Vernan, “at least not in an official capacity.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, as you know, we have missions spread throughout the Continent to help the needy. We often treat women in such places, and occasionally they stay on to assist with other patients, but I can assure you we treat them with the utmost care and respect.”
“Do they sleep at the mission?” asked Cyn.
“Most assuredly not!” replied Brother Vernan.
“She’s only teasing you,” soothed Ludwig. “Pay her no attention.”
The Holy Brother took a cleansing breath. “I shall try.”
“So tell me more about Eidenburg. That IS where they train Temple Knights, isn’t it?”
“It is, in fact. I'm told the seminary where I'll be staying is in close proximity to the commandery of Saint Agnes.”
“I assume a seminary is where they’ll bestow your new rank?”
“Yes, after a suitable period of time, although we prefer to use the term ‘elevated’ rather than bestowed, and it's a position, not a rank.”
“I stand corrected,” said Ludwig. “Why do they make you wait?”
“What gave you the impression I would be waiting?”
“You said ‘after a suitable time’. I merely assumed that meant there was a delay.”
“Ah,” said Brother Vernan, “I see the confusion. When one becomes a Holy Father, one must be trained. This, in turn, takes time.”
“Trained? But I thought all Holy Brothers knew the teachings of Saint Mathew?”
“We do, but a Holy Father must perform ceremonies like weddings and funerals. That requires much more than mere reading.”
“So what happens after you’re ordained? Do you get to pick where you go?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I suspect they will send me where I'm needed most, but hopefully, I will have some say in the matter.”
“I wish you well,” said Ludwig. “It's been a pleasure to have made your acquaintance.”
“Thank you,” replied Brother Vernan, “and I hope you find the peace you seek.”
“What makes you suppose I seek peace?” asked Ludwig. “I’m a mercenary now.”
“I know. I was referring to finding inner peace. You are a wandering soul, Ludwig. May Saint Mathew watch over you and keep you safe.”
9
A Soldier’s Life
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
The sword's edge scraped along the grindstone, smoothing out the nicks and scratches. Ludwig paused long enough to run his thumb down the blade, then nodded to Sigwulf, who was turning the wheel using his hands.
“This would be much easier if we had a foot pedal to rotate it.”
“It would,” agreed Sigwulf. “We used to have one, but then Baldric broke it.”
“Can’t it be replaced?”
“Do you see a carpenter in camp?”
“Why not hire one?”
“Do you have the coins for that?”
“I suppose I see your point,” said Ludwig. He lowered the sword once more, listening as the sandstone wheel ground out the imperfections. Three more revolutions, and then he pulled it up, this time looking over the steel for any remaining nicks.
“That will do nicely,” he announced.
Sigwulf stretched his back. He was a big man, and stooping to turn the wheel had been uncomfortable for him, although he was loath to admit it. “What are we up to today?” he asked.
“You tell me,” said Ludwig. “You’re the sergeant.”
Sigwulf smiled. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to that.”
“So? What’s your decision?”
“The camp has grown lazy. We need something to keep us active.”
“Well,” said Ludwig, “the tournament's been done for a week now. What did you have in mind?”
“A battle?”
Ludwig laughed. “That’s all well and good, but we need a war for that, don’t we?”
“Not at all. We can fight amongst ourselves.”
“Are you mad?”
“No,” said Sigwulf. “Hear me out. We divide the company into two groups.”
“Already done,” said Ludwig, “or did you forget you’re only sergeant to half the men?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Go on, then. What’s the rest of your plan?”
“Simple," said Sigwulf. "We take blunted weapons and have a go at each other.”
“Like the grand melee?”
“In a sense, only instead of each man fighting for themselves, we work in teams.”
Ludwig smiled, something he was doing a lot of lately. “That’s a marvellous idea. Do you believe the captain would approve?”
“I don’t see why not? If nothing else, it’ll keep our fighting skills sharp.”
“When do you propose we have this mock battle?”
“This afternoon," said Sigwulf, "but I’ll have to clear it with the captain first.”
“Best get a move on then before half the company disappears into town.”
The sergeant hurried off, leaving Ludwig alone with his sword. His peace was short-lived, though, for Cyn soon arrived.
“Have you seen Siggy?” she asked.
“He’s off to se
e the captain,” said Ludwig. “He wants to arrange a mock battle.”
Her eyes lit up. “A mock battle? How exciting! Who’ll be fighting?”
“The entire company, if he has his way.”
“How would that work? Who would we attack?”
“Each other. He intends to divide the company up into two groups and let them fight it out.”
“Ooh,” said Cyn. “I hope I’m on Siggy’s team.”
Ludwig let out a laugh. “I imagine you will be. After all, he’s your sergeant?”
“He’s yours too.”
“Yes, I suppose he is.”
“So what’s our strategy?”
“Strategy?”
“Yes,” she pressed, “for winning the battle?"
“It’s far too early to worry about such things. We don’t even know where we’ll be fighting.”
“Still," Cyn said, "we should come up with some tactics, don’t you think?”
“The only tactic we need is to beat the other side.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cyn. “There’s lots of things we could do to ensure victory.”
“Like what?”
She thought a moment. “Well, for one thing, we could group people together, like you and I did in the grand melee.”
“That didn’t help us win,” Ludwig reminded her.
“True, but you did come in third. How far do you reckon you would have gotten without me watching your back?”
“I suppose that’s a valid point.”
“Come on, let’s go get our gear.”
Ludwig stared at her, trying to determine if she was serious. Her eyes betrayed no sign of humour. “You’re pulling my leg, right? The competition likely won’t be until this afternoon.”
“You can never be too prepared!”
* * *
Ludwig stood ready, sword in hand, shield to his front, while to his left, Dorkin nervously clutched his axe. Sigwulf was on his right, and just past him stood Cyn, dwarfed by the sheer size of the man. More men filled out the line, creating a wall of warriors thirty strong.
Across the field, some distance off, Baldric led his own group, equal in number to theirs. Captain Ecke had come to witness the fight, aided by three others who were too sick or lame to participate in the spectacle. Blunted weapons had been the order, and Ecke had been sure to inspect all blades as the two forces assembled.
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