“You don’t think they’re planning a night attack, do you?”
“He can’t,” offered Sigwulf. “We have no ladders yet, remember?”
She frowned. “I doubt that would stop him.”
They all stared at the captain's tent. The interior was lit by candles, allowing them to see the baron’s son and their captain silhouetted. Their discussion looked to be intense, and then the noble left, heading back towards the village.
Moments later, Captain Ecke exited, looking left and right, presumably to find his sergeants. Upon spotting Sigwulf, he came closer.
“Get out the sentries,” he commanded.
“Trouble, Captain?” said Sigwulf.
“Yes, it appears Lord Wulfram sent out a raiding party. They attacked one of the baron’s men.”
“How many?”
“Only the one,” said Ecke. “Over there, by the hanged man.”
Sigwulf closed his mouth, afraid of condemning himself by his own words.
“And signs of numbers?” asked Cyn.
The captain seemed to suddenly notice her. “He estimates at least half a dozen. They wouldn’t sally forth with any less.”
“Was anyone killed?”
“No, thank the Saints, but we must be vigilant.” He returned his attention to Sigwulf. “Get the sentries out, Sergeant. I shouldn’t like to have enemy troops make their way into our camp.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the big man, trying to sound as alarmed as his superior.
“I’ll have Baldric do the same.” The captain headed north, quickly disappearing from sight.
“Well, I’ll be,” said Cyn. “That’s the first time we’ve ever had to guard against ourselves.”
“You two better take up your positions,” said Sigwulf. “I’ll send replacements once I rouse them.”
“You'd better get changed first,” suggested Cyn.
“Why?”
“You’re soaking wet, Siggy. You don’t want to catch yourself a chill.”
He waved her off. “Don’t be silly. It’s not that cold.”
She moved to stand before him, her hands instinctively going to her hips. “You listen to me, Sergeant. I won’t have you getting sick, do you hear me?”
Ludwig found the scene quite comical. Her short stature was dwarfed by Sigwulf, yet somehow, her presence seemed superior.
“All right,” conceded the sergeant. “I shall do as you ask.”
14
Regnitz
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
Morning came far too quickly to Ludwig’s mind as he struggled out of bed into the early morning sun with bleary eyes. The smells of the campfires drifted towards him, and he found himself drawing closer.
Dorkin noted his approach. “Hungry?”
“Famished,” replied Ludwig. “What have you there?”
“Porridge and barn bread.”
“No bacon?”
The man chuckled. “Where in this Saints forsaken place would I find a pig?”
“And yet you cook barn bread?”
“That’s because I saved up a supply of lard. Do you want some or not?”
Ludwig found his mouth watering. “I’m most happy to take you up on your offer.”
He waited as Dorkin ladled out some food into a bowl, then fished a piece of bread out of the frying pan.
Ludwig picked it up gingerly, the hot grease burning his fingers.
“You in a hurry?” asked Dorkin.
“Only to fill my stomach.” He took a bite, savouring the taste.
Off in the distance, half a dozen horsemen were riding towards the drawbridge.
“What’s that?” asked Ludwig.
Dorkin glanced up from his work. “I imagine that’s the baron and his entourage. Likely heading off in the hopes of negotiating the defender's surrender.”
“That young fellow,” said Ludwig, “is he the baron’s son?”
“Yes, Hagan Stein, at least that’s what I’m told. The other one is Gottfried Jager, the so-called siege expert.”
“You sound like you know a lot about them.”
“I might have heard Captain Ecke talking to them earlier.”
Ludwig watched, his meal forgotten, as the riders drew nearer to the drawbridge. They halted just south of it as soldiers appeared on the top of the gatehouse. Words were obviously exchanged, though, from this distance, nothing could be made out.
Shortly thereafter, a small door opened in the gate, and three individuals exited. There could be no mistaking Lord Wulfram Haas, for he wore a distinctive-looking suit of plate armour. Ludwig had thought his own armour to be decorative, but even from the campfire, he could see its detailed design. Meanwhile, his companions were outfitted in more common armour, replete with the baron's coat of arms upon their breasts.
There was an exchange of words, and Ludwig wished he was closer, listening to their conversation. Suddenly he was struck by the realization that his own fate might be inextricably tied up in whatever it was they were talking about. Not that they would mention him by name, but their decisions could mean the difference between a negotiated peace and a bloody, prolonged siege.
Whatever they said did not go down well, for Lord Wulfram grew more aggressive in his stance. It finally culminated in him shouting, “Never!” the word carrying easily across the field.
Haas turned, seeking the shelter of his gatehouse once more. Lord Gebhard and his party waited until the door was shut, then turned around slowly and began cantering back to the village of Regnitz.
“I suppose that means we’re going to fight,” said Dorkin.
“So it would seem,” agreed Ludwig. He remembered his meal and took another bite of his bread, chewing absently. “How long do you reckon it will take to make our ladders?”
“Not long. I suspect they’ll be ready by dark.”
“Is that the normal time to attack?”
“Yes,” said Dorkin. “The darkness will keep the archers at bay. Best eat up if I were you,” he added. “You’ll need all your strength for cutting down trees.”
* * *
The axe sunk in deep, and Ludwig had trouble extracting the blade from the trunk. Finally, he pulled it free, then stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “This is hard work.”
Sigwulf laughed. “This?” he said. “This is nothing!” He was hefting the largest axe Ludwig had ever seen, his bare chest covered in sweat.
“Doesn’t he ever tire?” asked Ludwig.
Cyn was staring at her man. She suddenly became aware that she was being watched and turned to Ludwig with a blush. “Sorry,” she said. “I got a little distracted.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be tying off those rungs?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then you’d best pay more attention to it,” he added, “else the ladders will collapse when we’re trying to climb them.”
She bent to the task, tying off some more rope to secure the rung. "How many of these do we need?”
“As many as we can manage,” explained Ludwig. “Ideally, one for every five men.”
“That’s more than a dozen,” noted Cyn. “Why so many?”
Sigwulf, upon hearing her query, halted his work. “The baron will probably want some for his men as well,” he explained.
“So we’re manual labour now?” she complained.
“Would you prefer to be risking your life in the assault?”
She shrugged. “I suppose not. Still, it would be nice if some of his men would lend a hand instead of standing around mocking us.”
“They’re not mocking us,” said Ludwig. “They’re guarding us.”
“From what?”
Ludwig grinned. “From those raiders that were out last night.”
Sigwulf frowned. “If I’d known it would have caused so much trouble, I wouldn’t have bothered.” He stopped, picked up a waterskin, drank thirstily, and then poured some over his head and shoulders.
“You know,” said Lud
wig, “you never told me about those other battles the Grim Defenders were in.”
“You mean the skirmishes?” asked Sigwulf.
“Yes, the very same.”
Sigwulf stoppered the waterskin, tossing it to the ground. He picked up his axe again, testing its weight. “Cyn can tell you all about it. I have to get back to work.”
Ludwig turned to Cyn. “Well?”
“All right, but only if you come here and hold this in place while I tie it off.”
Ludwig set down his own axe, crossing the distance quickly. Anything was better than burning his muscles chopping down trees. He took the rung, putting it in place as Cyn began wrapping the rope to secure it.
“The first took place some four months ago when we were camped in a field near Anshlag. The captain sent out a small patrol to see what the area was like, and we came across a bandit camp.”
“Is that common in these parts?”
“I can’t really say,” said Cyn. “We only ran across it the once, but then again, we hadn’t been with the Grim Defenders long.”
“So what happened?”
“There were three of us to begin with: Siggy, Dorkin, and, of course myself. We were, in fact, looking for a stream to gather water when we were accosted by a group of armed men. They wanted all our coins, but the joke was on them. We hadn’t been paid for some time.”
“What happened?”
“They didn’t believe us. The next thing we knew, we were carrying out a fighting withdrawal. Eventually, we got close enough to camp that others could hear us. The bandits scattered soon after that.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“Only minor cuts and bruises on our side, but two of the bandits died.”
“And you say this was your only run-in with bandits?”
Cyn nodded. “It was.”
“Then what was the other skirmish all about?”
“Now, that,” she replied, “is a bit more complicated.” She finished tying off the rung.
Ludwig grabbed another stick, repeating the process. “It appears we have plenty of time.”
She selected another length of rope, using her knife to cut it, then began the process of tying off the next rung. “We had an altercation with another mercenary company.”
“When you say altercation…”
“I mean a fight. Right after we arrived in Torburg for the tournament, another free company, the Blades of Vengeance, showed up. They felt we had taken their field and insisted we leave. Well, as you can imagine, that didn’t go over well.”
“And so a skirmish broke out?”
“I wouldn’t call it a skirmish so much as a brawl if I’m being honest. It started innocently enough, with their captain asking ours to move the company.”
“And he refused?”
“Naturally. Things escalated quickly after that. The fighting didn’t die down until nightfall, and it took the threat of the duke’s interference to break up the brawl.”
“But you won, didn’t you?” asked Ludwig. “After all, you had the field when I first met you.”
“We did, though it wasn’t as easy as you might think. In the end, it had to be settled by arbitration. Once the Church got involved, there could be no arguing the matter.”
“So what happened to the Blades of Vengeance?”
“I imagine they’re still around. They marched out of Torburg just before the tournament started.”
“I suppose they didn’t want to hang around after their defeat,” suggested Ludwig.
“Likely not, but I’m sure that won’t be the end of it.”
“You figure they’ll carry a grudge?”
“I know they will. People like that live for their reputation. Us winning the dispute gave them a bloody nose. They’ll want to get even.”
“You can't possibly believe they’ll turn up here?”
“No,” said Cyn. “Given their reputation, I doubt Lord Gebhard could afford them.”
“How about Lord Wulfram?”
“They number close to one hundred. If they were here, we’d have seen some sign of them.”
“Not if they’re inside those walls.”
“We’d have to make the assumption Lord Wulfram knew Stein’s army was coming and had enough time to hire on mercenaries. I figure we can safely rule that out.” She finished with the rung, then stood back, admiring her handiwork. “Well? What do you think?”
He joined her, looking down at the ladder. “It looks solid enough.”
“We need to test it,” she said. “Let’s head over to the village and lean it up against the tavern. That ought to be tall enough.”
“I thought going to the village was forbidden.”
“Nonsense,” said Cyn, “and in any case, we’re not going INTO the town, we’re merely going ADJACENT to it. We’ll put up the ladder, and then you can climb up to the top to test it.”
“Me?" said Ludwig. "Why do I have to test it?”
“You’re heavier than me, and we have to see if it’ll bear the weight of an armoured man. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wait till you’re up to your armpits in an assault?”
“No,” said Ludwig, “I concede the point.” He moved to one end, lifting it while Cyn struggled with the other.
He grunted with the effort. “This is heavier than it looks.”
Being so long, it was awkward to carry, but they managed to cross the field with only a few missteps.
“This would be much easier with more men,” observed Cyn.
“We can call some over if you like.”
“No, my stubbornness has kicked in. We’ll get it in place. Just you wait and see.”
They drew closer to the tavern and dropped the ladder to the ground. Ludwig looked up at the nearest window.
“This,” he said, “is more difficult than it looks. How are we to get this to stand on end?”
“Brute force,” said Cyn. She struggled to lift her end up over her head, but to no avail. Soon she was sitting, staring at the ladder with a look that could curdle cheese.
“Problem?” called out Sigwulf.
Having observed their situation, the man had wandered over, and now he stood, looking at them both.
“It’s too heavy,” said Cyn. “How are we gonna get it against the wall?”
“What we need,” said Sigwulf, “is a pole with a crook in it. A branch would do, providing it’s the right length.”
“How will that help?” asked Ludwig.
“Simple. You lift up your end, then we use the pole to push it higher, using Cyn’s end to anchor it to the ground.”
“And do we have such a branch?”
“Stay here, and I’ll find one.”
Ludwig sat, catching his breath as their sergeant ran off.
“He seems confident,” said Ludwig.
“He knows what he’s doing,” she replied.
Cyn stood, making her way to the back of the tavern and peering in through the window.
“Busy?” he asked.
“There’s quite a few people, but not much is happening. I suspect the baron has taken this place as his lodgings.”
“Do you see him?”
“No, he’s probably upstairs.”
Sigwulf returned bearing a long branch and a look of enthusiasm. “Let’s give it a try, shall we? You hold the base of the ladder, Cyn, about three paces out from the wall. Ludwig, you lift up this end, and I’ll use the branch.”
Ludwig lifted the ladder's end over his head while Sigwulf used the crook in the branch to hook the top rung. The sergeant gave a mighty heave, and then the ladder rose.
“Give me a hand,” grunted Sigwulf.
Ludwig moved to his side, grasping the branch and putting his weight into it. It resisted at first, but as they lifted it higher, it became easier to raise. Finally, it was upright, and they felt the weight release as it came loose, falling against the tavern’s wall with a thud.
“That appears to have worked,” said Cyn. “Up you
go.”
Ludwig stepped up, grasping the rails and putting a tentative foot on the first rung. He put all his weight on it then, secure in the knowledge it could handle it, he began to climb. The ladder held, the bindings keeping the rungs in place, but the spacing was uneven, requiring him to pay close attention lest he hit his shins. He soon became accustomed to them, and before long, he was at the top.
Looking down, he gave Cyn and Sigwulf the thumbs-up. They smiled back, and he prepared to descend, but the sound of voices drew his attention. It was then he discovered he was beside an upper-floor window. He leaned closer, careful not to lose his footing, the better to hear what was being said, and instantly recognized the voice of Lord Gebhard.
“The fool refuses to see reason,” the baron was saying.
“Then we have no option, my lord,” said a slightly younger man, likely the siege expert, Captain Jager. “We shall commence operations in the morning.”
“Will we be ready?” asked Stein.
“Yes,” replied the captain, “though I wish you’d reconsider the use of Herzog, my lord.”
The irritation in Stein’s voice was clear. “Do not bring the man up again, Captain. We shall rely on the cold press of steel, not the unsaintly use of magic.”
“My lord,” pressed Jager, “I can assure you the use of Earth Magic is not unsaintly.”
“Say what you will, Captain, but the result is the same. I will not countenance it.”
“And if the assault goes poorly?”
“Then I might consider it at a future time, but until we have tested those defences, I shall make no such commitment.”
“That is all I ask, Lord.”
A younger voice intervened. “May I have the honour of leading the attack, Father?”
“No, Hagan, that's the responsibility of our mercenaries. Once they seize the gate, however, you shall have the honour of leading the cavalry through.”
“I would urge you to reconsider,” said the captain. “Your heir should remain safely behind our lines. To have him take forward the horse exposes him to an unacceptable level of danger.”
“Even riding a horse has its dangers, Jager, yet you do not countenance its abandonment.”
“True, my lord, but then again, a horse does not plot your death, whereas the enemy does.”
Warrior Knight Page 15