Warrior Knight

by Paul J Bennett

  “Yes,” agreed Sigwulf, “and likely powerful if your cousin is the king.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Ludwig. “Not that I spent much time thinking about it.”

  “So why is it you left?” asked Cyn.

  “A woman,” interrupted Sigwulf. “It’s all quite romantic.”

  Cyn looked at him in surprise. “You’re showing your soft side.”

  In answer, Sigwulf coughed. “Look,” he said, “we’re clearing Mulsingen. We should be able to see the baron’s keep shortly.”

  She turned to Ludwig. “He’s always trying to swallow his feelings.”

  “I’m a sergeant now,” insisted Sigwulf. “I have to set an example.”

  The village gave way to the fields beyond. Atop a small hill in the distance was a square keep, much like Verfeld, but with a curtain wall that surrounded an outer bailey. This arrangement was topped off with a gatehouse that was basically a small tower with a portcullis and a gate leading through it.

  Ludwig wondered what the inside was like, but they were not to find out, for as they drew closer, they were ushered into an adjacent field by two men wearing mail coifs and padded gambesons.

  Cyn and Ludwig immediately began marking off the area while Sigwulf assigned duties to the men. They were half done when Ludwig spotted Baldric yelling at Quentin and Emile about something. Ludwig paused, watching the drama unfold.

  Cyn, who was still pacing off the distance, looked back at Ludwig, waiting for him to place a stake. “Are you coming?” she asked.

  “Just a moment,” he replied. “It looks like Baldric is up to something.”

  She moved closer, following his gaze. “What are they doing?”

  Ludwig chuckled. “I imagine the captain must have told him to line up his tents like we do.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Look at those two fools trying to pace off the distance.”

  Quentin was taking exaggerated steps, making the whole effort appear ludicrous. It looked like their hosts agreed, for the two men who had directed the company to the field were staring at him, laughing their arses off.

  “Should we help?” asked Ludwig.

  “No,” replied Cyn. “Let them sink or swim on their own.”

  “Sink or swim? We’re on dry land.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry, it’s an expression I picked up in Braymoor. They’re known for their warships, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t. Tell me, what was it like up there? Is it cold?”

  “No more so than here, although if you live on the coast, the wind can be brutal.”

  “Is that where you served?”

  “No. We were in the southern region, well away from water, thank you very much.”

  “You don’t like water?”

  “I have nothing against it,” said Cyn, “but that doesn’t mean I want to set foot aboard a ship.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with a ship?”

  “What if it sinks? I don’t want to drown.”

  “I’m sure plenty of ships ply the waterways of the Continent without sinking.”

  “I’d prefer not to hazard the risk. Now, enough of this banter; let’s get back to work, shall we?”

  Ludwig tore his gaze away from Baldric and his cronies. “All right.”

  * * *

  By nightfall, they had settled in while Captain Ecke disappeared into the keep along with two warriors, but little was said to the rank and file. The next day was no different nor the day after. For five days, the same dull routine repeated itself.

  Ludwig grew bored. It was one thing to march around the countryside, quite another to be stuck in a muddy field for days on end with nothing to do. He was looking forward to the prospect of battle if only to relieve the tedium.

  He took to the habit of rising early each morning, ensuring he had unfettered access to the nearby stream. It wasn’t that people prevented him from using it, but far too many mercenaries were content to relieve themselves in the water. As a consequence, Ludwig had to make his way farther and farther upstream to find a supply suitable for drinking.

  Today the weather was clear, a pleasant change from the damp, windy days that had preceded it. He re-entered the camp to see Sigwulf casting his gaze about.

  “Ah,” the big man said, “there you are, Ludwig. Grab your armour. You’re coming with me.”

  “To where?”

  “We’re escorting the captain today.”

  “Into the keep?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Ludwig rushed to his tent, pulling out what armour he had. He stepped back out into the sun and began dressing. “It would be nice if the company would equip us,” he commented.

  “That would cost a fortune,” replied Sigwulf, “and, quite frankly, I’d prefer to have the coins.”

  “But we look so… ragged.”

  The sergeant looked around. “Why would you say that?”

  “No two mercenaries look the same. It’s hard to tell we’re even in the same company.”

  “What would you have us do? Wear surcoats like some noble's household?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “We’re mercenaries, Ludwig, not a garrison. We fight those battles no one else wants to. Do you think they care a whit about what we look like?”

  “No, I suppose not, but I can’t help but feel it would make us look more professional.”

  “There you go with that word again,” said Sigwulf. “I tell you what. When you raise your own company, you can decide what everyone’s going to wear. Fair enough?”

  Ludwig chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Now, come on,” the big man urged. “The captain’s waiting.” They made their way towards the command tent where Ecke stood waiting.

  “Finally,” said the captain. “Come along, you two; we’ve work to do.”

  He led them towards the gatehouse, setting a brisk clip. Two of the baron’s men stood watch, leaning on their spears, and watching as the small group passed. Ludwig gave the guards a quick glance, noting the poor condition of their armour. It didn’t bode well for the future.

  Across the inner courtyard they walked, past another group of disinterested soldiers. Many were overweight as evidenced by their bulging armour. A gambeson was a thick, padded jacket, often making a man look bulkier, but in this case, Ludwig noticed the material straining at the seams. Apparently, the baron's soldiers ate well.

  They entered the keep, where a well-dressed servant led them into the great hall. Lord Gebhard Stein was, like his soldiers, a somewhat portly individual. Beside him stood a man, tall and thin, wearing a younger version of the baron’s face.

  “Good morning, Captain,” said the baron. “I trust you slept well?”

  “I did,” said Ecke. “And yourself, Lord?”

  “Very well, indeed. Shall we continue our discussion?”

  “By all means.”

  “Now, let’s see; where were we?”

  “We had finally agreed on payment,” said Ecke.

  “Yes, of course. With that out of the way, we can now concentrate on the matter at hand. As I have mentioned previously, I've had some issues with one of my neighbours, Lord Wulfram Haas, Baron of Regnitz.”

  “So you indicated yesterday,” said Ecke. “I assume you wish to lure him out to fight?”

  “That would be preferable,” replied the baron, “but I doubt we’ll get the chance.”

  “Then what, pray tell, are you proposing?”

  The baron smiled. “I mean for us to capture his keep.”

  “A siege?”

  “No, an assault,” the baron clarified. “An attack meant to quickly overwhelm his defenders.”

  “And might I ask what we can expect in the way of defences?”

  “Regnitz is much like Mulsingen, a square keep with an enclosed courtyard adjacent. Of course, there’s also the matter of the moat.”

  “He has a moat?”

  “Yes, although it'
s not deep.”

  “That presents a formidable obstacle,” said Ecke, “and an assault would be costly.”

  “Precisely why I have hired on the Grim Defenders. Your men ARE up to the task, aren’t they?”

  “They most definitely are,” said Ecke. “Still, I think it wise to get more information about the place if we can.”

  “Nonsense,” said the baron. “Lord Wulfram has few enough troops. I know for certain that he can’t man the entire wall.”

  “He doesn’t have to, my lord. He only has to defend whatever wall section we attack. We lack the manpower to surround the place, even with the help of your household troops. And what of the duke?”

  “What of him?”

  “Won’t he object to his nobles fighting?”

  “No, he pays little heed to such things. It has ever been thus.”

  “Good to know,” said Ecke. “What can we expect in the way of defenders?”

  “His forces are decidedly limited. At last count, he had but thirty men, and only one-third of them archers.”

  “And the village of Regnitz?”

  “Lies a little to the south of the keep, several hundred yards from its walls. The ground thereabouts is clear in all directions.”

  Ecke visibly paled. “So we have to assault across open ground, then wade through a moat?”

  “Precisely. Don’t worry, though, my men will be backing you up.”

  “When you say ‘your men,’ how many are you talking about?”

  “I have gathered a force of one hundred, with thirty of those yeoman cavalry.”

  “Of little use in a siege, my lord.”

  “True," agreed the baron, "but priceless as we approach. If we’re lucky, we can catch some of them before they withdraw inside their defences.”

  “And the rest?”

  “Of my remaining men, fully a third are bowmen, the remainder being foot.”

  “So let me get this straight,” said Ecke. “You're marching with thirty horsemen, two dozen archers, and about forty-odd foot?”

  “In addition to your company, yes.”

  “And you consider that sufficient to take the keep?”

  “I can assure you it is,” pressed the baron. He noted the dismay on Ecke's face. “Come now, Captain, I’ve seen the state of Lord Wulfram’s men. The only question now is whether I can count on the support of your company?”

  Ecke stiffened. “We are mercenaries, my lord. You pay the fee, and we shall march and fight.”

  “Good. Then we have an agreement?”

  “We do,” said the captain, “though there are some more things I should like to hear of.”

  “Certainly,” said the baron. “What would you like to know?”

  “Have they a gatehouse?”

  “Yes, remarkably similar to ours, in fact, except for the drawbridge.”

  “They have a drawbridge?”

  “Of course, how else would they get across the moat?”

  “Have you conducted a siege before, my lord?”

  “No,” admitted the baron, “but I am not without my own resources. I have hired on an expert, Captain Gottfried Jager. Do you know him?”

  “I’m afraid I don't.”

  “He is a master of siege warfare. I doubt Lord Wulfram will stand a chance against that kind of experience.”

  Ludwig watched as indecision wracked the face of Captain Ecke, but the man would never back out of a deal. “Very well,” he said at last. “When shall we march?”

  “Tomorrow,” said the baron. “Regnitz is nearly forty miles away. I expect we shall be there in three days. Let's hope, if we’re quick about it, we can take the keep before he knows what hit him.”

  “While that would be preferable,” said the captain, “let’s not count on it. Instead, we should make plans for the assault.”

  “Yes. Ideally, I’d like to see the assault carried out the same day we arrive.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my lord. We’ll need ladders, and those take time to produce. We also need to take into account the weather.”

  The baron grew impatient. “We can deal with all that once we arrive. You’d best get back to your men, Captain. I’m sure there are preparations to be made.”

  Ecke bowed. “Of course, my lord. We shall march first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Excellent. Then we shall be feasting in Regnitz by the end of the week.”

  The captain turned, leaving the room with Sigwulf and Ludwig falling in behind. It wasn’t until they were clear of the keep that Ecke finally spoke again. “The blasted man’s a fool!” He turned to Sigwulf. “What did you make of him?”

  The sergeant cleared his throat. “I think he overestimates the chances of success.”

  “And you?” said Ecke, looking at Ludwig.

  “He’s being overly optimistic if he believes he’ll be within Regnitz Keep by week's end.”

  “There is good news,” offered Sigwulf.

  Ecke halted, turning to face his sergeant. “Which is?”

  “If this turns into a long siege, as I suspect it will, it’ll cost the baron a fortune. Good for us.”

  The captain smiled. “Yes, but at what cost? Sieges are terrible things, Sigwulf, make no mistake. If the assaults don’t kill you, the pestilence likely will. Have you ever been in an army when the plague visits? It’s not something you’d want to see, believe me.”

  “Are you saying you don’t believe we can take Regnitz Keep?” asked Ludwig.

  “No,” said Ecke. “We can take it all right. I’m just concerned Lord Gebhard will force us to take all the casualties.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re paid for?”

  The captain resumed his walk. “I suppose it is, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “We could always refuse the commission,” suggested Sigwulf.

  “No. If we did that, word would get around that we're unreliable. We’d never get another contract again. We can’t back out now.”

  “What can we do to help?” asked the sergeant.

  “Get back to camp and make sure no one gets drunk tonight. I need them ready to march at the crack of dawn.”

  “That early?” asked Ludwig.

  “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll fully understand what we’re up against.”

  * * *

  Cyn was waiting for them upon their return.

  “How was it?” she asked in her typical cheerful manner. Her smile soon turned into a frown as she beheld the grave face Sigwulf wore. “What is it?”

  “We’re marching in the morning,” he replied.

  “That’s good news, isn't it?” She looked at Ludwig for an explanation.

  “It looks like we’re marching towards a siege,” he explained, “and we’ll likely bear the brunt of the assault.”

  “A siege, you say?”

  Ludwig nodded. “Yes, and the defences are, perhaps, better than we had anticipated. Have you ever been in a siege?”

  “No,” said Cyn, “but my father often talked of his time in the east.”

  “The Crusades? I’ve always thought of travelling there.”

  She frowned. “No, not the Crusades, but close. The Realm of Novarsk lies on the far eastern edge of the Petty Kingdoms. He took the Crossed Swords there, long before I was born. The first crusade had just ended, but the influx of warriors had overwhelmed the inhabitants. Some of the local barons rebelled, leading to all sorts of troubles.”

  “I take it they hired him to pacify the region?”

  “They did. Of course a large crusader army was present, but they were needed to hold on to the strongholds. The Swords ended up being assigned the job of recapturing a place called Halmund. It was a bloody affair.”

  “It must have been quite the company to take a city,” said Ludwig.

  “They weren’t alone. There were four other mercenary groups. The initial assault against the city walls failed, and they settled in for a siege. Unfortunately, it was late in the ye
ar, and winter came early. Some died from the cold, but many more succumbed to fever.”

  “Did they ever manage to capture the city?”

  “They did, eventually, but not until the spring. By the time they broke the walls, they were in a fearful rage. I’m afraid they committed unspeakable acts once they got inside. It was always my father’s greatest shame.”

  “Despite that, he told you about it?” said Ludwig.

  “He did. My father always insisted on telling me the truth of such things. We mercenaries lead a grim life, Ludwig; never forget that.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  She shook her head. “It has always been so, and we are powerless to stop it.”

  “No, I refuse to believe that. Life is different now than in the days of our ancestors because people resolved to change things. The same is true today. We can make a better life for our descendants, Cyn. I know it.”

  “Descendants now, is it?” said Sigwulf. “Do you have a son tucked away somewhere?”

  Ludwig blushed. “No, but maybe someday. What about you two?”

  “What about us?” said Cyn.

  “Have you ever considered having children?”

  Her mood soured. “Stop talking such nonsense.” She turned, leaving the area at a quick pace.

  Ludwig watched her go, noting how she wiped her eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Sigwulf rested his hand on Ludwig’s shoulder. “No. There are some things Cyn doesn’t like to discuss. She’ll talk about it when she’s ready.”

  12

  On the Move

  Spring 1095 SR

  * * *

  The march began with little fanfare. The company formed up on the road, and then the captain ordered them forward, wagons in the rear. The morning air was crisp, but the cloudless sky promised a warm day. They were fully a mile down the road when Sigwulf noticed Ludwig glancing over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Looking for the baron’s men. We’re not attacking all by ourselves, are we?”

  “They’ll be along soon enough. They’re probably still having breakfast.”

  “That must be nice,” said Ludwig. “All I had this morning was some stale bread.”