Warrior Knight

by Paul J Bennett

  “Magic is a fickle thing,” said Rosalyn. “That’s why so few warriors rely on it.”

  “Yet mages are common enough amongst the courts of the Petty Kingdoms, are they not?”

  “They are, or so I’m led to believe. What of your own home? Did it have mages?”

  “None that I’m aware of," said Ludwig, "though, in truth, I spent no time in the capital. Have you been to the duke’s court?”

  “I have, in fact, quite recently. We stayed there while the tournament was running.”

  “Is that a common thing for you?”

  “To see the tournament? Most certainly. It's the highlight of the year. Do they not have them where you’re from?”

  “They do, although nowhere near as large, from what I've been told. Malburg tried to host one once, but there weren't enough competitors to make a go of it.”

  “Why?” asked Rosalyn. “Do knights not seek to make names for themselves in Hadenfeld?”

  Ludwig felt the colour drain from his face. “How did you know I was from Hadenfeld?”

  She chuckled. “I know the Petty Kingdoms well. You gave it away when you mentioned Malburg. If I recall, there’s a barony around there somewhere.” She placed a finger to her chin as she thought. “Varfield, perhaps?”

  “Verfeld,” corrected Ludwig. “It appears you have uncovered my identity.”

  “It was you who revealed it. Don’t worry, I shan’t mention it to anyone else, but tell me, why is it so important that nobody knows?”

  “I fear my father would seek me out should he learn of my location.”

  “Even here? In a besieged keep?”

  “He can be stubborn at times.”

  “Well,” said Rosalyn, “our present situation prevents any word getting out, even if we wanted it to. I’m afraid we’ve no choice but to keep it to ourselves.”

  A maid appeared at the door, beckoning to the baron’s daughter. Rosalyn made her way over, listening carefully as the older woman whispered something in her ear.

  She turned back to Ludwig. “I’m afraid you must excuse me. It sounds like my father is asking after me.”

  “Will you be back?” asked Ludwig.

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  21

  Honour

  Spring 1095 SR

  * * *

  A cool breeze blew in from the east, ruffling Ludwig’s hair and bringing with it the fresh scent of pine. He gazed out the window, watching the movement below. The besieging army was settling in for the long haul, and the sounds of axes drifted up to him from the distant trees. No doubt they would soon be building engines of war. Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Lord Wulfram Haas.

  “My lord,” he said, bowing his head.

  “You’re looking much better,” said the baron. “One might even go so far as to say you’re thriving under my daughter's care.”

  Ludwig blushed. “I am,” he said. “And I must thank you for your kindness. Were it not for your generosity, and hers, I would likely be dead.”

  Lord Wulfram made his way to the chair, then sat, waving his hand at the bed. “Please, sit.”

  Ludwig did as he was asked. The Baron of Regnitz stared at him for a while. Ludwig felt the intensity of the man’s gaze the entire time.

  “Tell me of yourself,” his host finally commanded.

  “There is not much to tell,” said Ludwig.

  “Rosalyn says you’re from Verfeld, in the Kingdom of Hadenfeld. Is this true?”

  Ludwig felt the anger build. “She promised she wouldn’t speak of it,” he spat out.

  Lord Wulfram held up his hand. “Do not fault my daughter,” he said. “She did what she felt was right. Now answer the question.”

  “It is,” Ludwig finally admitted, surrendering to the inevitable. “My father is Lord Frederick Altenburg, Baron of Verfeld. Do you know him?”

  “No, but then again, the Petty Kingdoms have hundreds of barons. Does King Otto still rule in that part of the Continent?”

  “He does.”

  “I knew him years ago, at the court of King Ebert of Deisenbach.”

  “I know of it,” said Ludwig. “It rests against the northern border of Hadenfeld.”

  “Of course he wasn’t a prince back then, merely the spoiled son of a wealthy baron, much like you.” He held up his hand to prevent any argument. “Not that I’m suggesting you’re spoiled in any way.”

  “I can understand Otto being sent there. I hear it’s a common enough practice, but why you? Weren't there closer kingdoms for your father to send you to?”

  “There were,” said Lord Wulfram, “but they were all neighbours of our realm and, as such, might covet our land. One can hardly blame him for not wanting to send his sons to a potential foe.”

  “Sons? You have a brother?”

  “I did, but he died some years ago. I was never supposed to be the baron—that was Lothar’s fate. Have you ever spent time at court?”

  “No, I was born and raised in Verfeld.”

  “I’m surprised. Sending away a son to another lord's court allows him to learn the way of things. It also forms lasting friendships that benefit the Petty Kingdoms.”

  “You have me intrigued,” said Ludwig. “I knew that Cousin Otto was the son of a baron, but my father never spoke of how he came to sit on the throne.”

  “That,” said Lord Wulfram, “is a long story. I shan’t bore you with the details other than to say it was a combination of war, illness, and maybe even a little murder. In those days, the land was in constant strife, much as it is now, come to think of it. He was, I believe, something like the seventeenth in line to the Crown. In any event, there was that nasty little war of yours. That’s what finally propelled him to the throne.”

  “You mean the civil war?”

  “Yes, I understand some of the barons rose up in rebellion?”

  “It was much more than that,” said Ludwig. “They broke off and formed their own kingdom. Neuhafen, they call it. That was before I was born, of course, but they still cast a shadow over the entire kingdom.”

  “From what I heard, it was a bloody affair,” continued the baron. “Otto’s father was killed in the fighting, and so he became the baron. If I recall, there was a massive battle, somewhere near Harlingen, your capital.”

  “I’ve heard tell of it,” said Ludwig. “The rebels won the field but took too many casualties and lacked the men to capture the throne. It marked the end of the war.”

  “Yes, and almost the end of the Royal Line too. By nightfall, Otto was the next in line to the throne. When the king died five years later, Otto was given the crown.”

  “Remarkable.”

  “It was,” agreed Lord Wulfram, "yet many of the other Petty Kingdoms have suffered similar fates. We live in a land full of petty rivalries and unbridled greed. Some might say it’s our fate to be forever at war with each other.”

  “Surely there’s a better way?”

  “I wish there were, but we must learn to live with the hand we are dealt with. Do you play cards?”

  Ludwig frowned. “I never developed a taste for them, much to my father’s disappointment. I would prefer to be outside, riding.”

  “Well, I’m afraid, under the present circumstances, that is entirely impossible. I might, however, be able to find some cards if you were to change your mind.”

  “Rosalyn tells me you have a large selection of books.”

  The baron smiled. “I do. Do you read?”

  “Rather avidly, though not, of course, of late.”

  “Have you read Marroch or Allard?”

  “I’m afraid those names mean nothing to me,” confessed Ludwig. “Were they military leaders?”

  “No, poets, philosophers even.”

  “Their names sound foreign.”

  “That’s because they hailed from lands that were overrun by the Halvarians decades ago.”

  “And yet they offer advice?”

  “Advice?” said Wulfram. “Is that w
hat you think poets do? No, they entertain.”

  “I always thought the purpose of books was to educate.”

  “Wherever did you get that idea?”

  “My mother.”

  “Did she not read you stories?”

  “She did. Quite a few, in fact. My favourites were those concerning the knights who lived in times of old. That’s how I learned my history.”

  “My dear fellow,” said the baron, “those aren’t historical texts. They’re only stories. Knighthood has only existed for a few centuries and is nothing like those ancient tales.”

  Ludwig was crestfallen. He had looked up to these valiant warriors all his life, had even modelled his own behaviour after them. To find out they were nothing but flights of fancy shook him to his core.

  The baron noticed his look of dismay. “Don’t be disheartened,” he said. “Those stories are meant to inspire people, even if they aren’t true. They speak to your soul.”

  “But they are false!”

  Lord Wulfram leaned forward. “They are not false so long as you hold them here.” He gently prodded Ludwig over his heart. “You found them inspiring, yes?”

  Ludwig nodded.

  “Then they have done their job. The future changes, my young friend, because of people like you.”

  “Me? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “You took these writings to heart, and that shows a concern for your fellow man. I might remind you of your earlier words. You said, ‘Surely there’s a better way,’ indicating you are willing to change things to achieve your goals. I should be keenly interested to see where you are ten years from now.”

  “Knowing my luck, I’ll be dead by then.”

  “That, I highly doubt,” said Lord Wulfram. “Of course, it’s not impossible, but I expect you have a strong survival instinct.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’m not sure, just a feeling I have. Any other prisoner would have died of the cold down in the dungeon, but you… somehow you survived. That’s a rare gift, Ludwig. Don’t waste it.”

  “You seem to assume I’m some kind of chosen one.”

  The baron chuckled. “Ah, yes, the ancient prophecies: Someone will unite the Petty Kingdoms; the Saints will be reborn. I’ve heard many over the years, and every one of them is complete rubbish. They’ve been saying those things for centuries. Surely, if any of that was going to happen, it would have occurred by now?”

  “One would think so,” agreed Ludwig. “I suppose that means you don’t hold the same beliefs as your daughter?”

  “Rosalyn? Why? Did she say something to you?”

  “We may have discussed the concept of fate.”

  “Ah, yes, fate. One of her favourite subjects. She can talk all evening on the topic. It can grow most wearisome.”

  “She also told me this dispute with Lord Gebhard was her fault.”

  The baron looked surprised. “She told you about that?”

  “She did, my lord.”

  “Well, that’s a bit of a surprise. I suppose, from a certain point of view, she has a point. After all, it was her refusal to marry Hagan that led to our current circumstances.”

  “You could have pressed her to marry,” said Ludwig, “yet you didn’t. I’m curious as to why?”

  “My daughter means the world to me, as you’ve probably already guessed. Her mother died some years ago, and ever since then, she’s been my life. I couldn’t bear to see her married off to a man who wouldn’t think the same of her.”

  “And so we are at war,” said Ludwig.

  “We? I don’t remember your name coming up in the dispute. You apparently happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Perhaps not,” pressed Ludwig. “It occurs to me that this is precisely where I’m meant to be.”

  “Don’t tell me Rosalyn has convinced you of her nonsense?”

  “It’s not her, at least not just her.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Something strange happened to me recently. Something I’m not sure I’ve completely come to grips with yet.”

  “This sounds intriguing. Would you care to elucidate?”

  “A good friend of mine took an arrow to the back in the initial assault, and we had to carry him back to camp.”

  “Wait a moment,” said Wulfram. “Did you say to the back? I saw you from the wall. One of my men wanted to finish the poor fellow off, but I stopped him. I had no idea that was you carrying him away.”

  Ludwig nodded. “That was me all right. In any event, we took him back and removed the arrow, but then the wound festered, and it brought on a fever.”

  “Did he survive?”

  “He did, eventually, but it was what happened next that shook me. We applied a poultice to draw out the pus.”

  “Let me guess, warriors moss?”

  Ludwig looked up in surprise. “You know of such things?”

  “I have a passing familiarity, but please, continue your tale. You were saying you gave him warriors moss?”

  “Yes, but it didn’t seem to be working. When he was at his lowest, I prayed to Saint Mathew.”

  “And?”

  “He recovered.”

  Lord Wulfram smiled. “That was merely a coincidence.”

  “Was it? Somehow I have my doubts. You weren’t there. You didn’t feel the sudden breeze, the scent of grass that so reminded me of home.”

  “And you attribute that to a dead Saint?”

  “It reminded me of the prior, back home. You can’t believe that a coincidence?”

  “You were camped in a field, were you not?”

  “We were," admitted Ludwig. "What of it?”

  “Well, you were surrounded by grass. What else would you smell? You were lucky enough to catch a breeze, that’s all. The rest is due to your imagination.”

  “They say the Saints work in mysterious ways,” countered Ludwig.

  “Of course they do. How else can they peddle their beliefs?”

  “You don’t believe in the Saints?”

  “Don’t let me give you the wrong impression,” said Lord Wulfram. “I believe the Saints existed, but I don’t think they’re somewhere in the Afterlife, guiding us to join them. It's Humans who shape the Petty Kingdoms, not some long-dead prophets.”

  “What about the other races?”

  “What, Elves? They had their chance. The Continent belongs to Humans now. That much is clear.”

  “How about the Dwarves?”

  “Now, they are an interesting race. Unlike the Elves, they’ve learned to live amongst us, plying their trade.”

  “Do they not have kingdoms of their own?” asked Ludwig.

  “They do, but they're small compared to those of Humans. They also live in mountainous terrain, so they are little threat to us. Have you ever met a Dwarf?”

  “I can’t say I have.”

  “They are a capricious people.”

  “Capricious?”

  “Yes, contrary and unpredictable," said the baron. "They are masters of their craft, yet often refuse the offer of trade. I certainly have a hard time understanding them.”

  “Have you met many?”

  “No, thank the Saints, and I have no inclination to do so in the future. I’ll stick with our own race if you don’t mind.”

  “I saw Orc tracks once,” said Ludwig. “What do you know of them?”

  “Orcs? Precious little, other than what I’ve been told. They are, apparently, a savage race, unused to the ways of civilization. I’m told they eat Human flesh, although that may just be stories meant to frighten children. It matters little, for there are none of the green-skinned folk in these parts. They were wiped out generations ago.”

  “After the Therengian Wars?”

  “You know of those?”

  “It's a particular fascination of mine. I’d be delighted to hear your take on them.”

  Lord Wulfram frowned. “They are not a people to idolize, Ludwig. Their rule
of the Continent was one of military occupation.”

  “In what way?”

  “At their height, they organized their kingdom into a series of provinces, each with a military governor. It’s said only the elite members of their society were allowed to govern.”

  “But that’s no different than us, is it?” said Ludwig. “They might have used their military, but we use the noble lines. I fail to see any difference.”

  “The nobility of the Petty Kingdoms has a long and storied past,” explained the baron. “They rule by right of blood, not on the whim of some military appointment. The very fact the Therengians were defeated shows the superiority of our system. Nobles are meant to rule, Ludwig, never forget that. It is their place in the world… and yours.”

  “It appears you’ve given me much to consider.”

  Lord Wulfram stood. “It also appears I have stayed longer than I had anticipated. You must excuse me. I have things to attend to.”

  Ludwig’s eyes drifted to the window, and he remembered what he had seen. “They’re cutting down trees, you know. It won’t be long before they start using catapults.”

  “Indeed, but that's my concern, not yours. I have no doubt Lord Gebhard will eventually take this keep.”

  “Then why resist?”

  “Honour,” said the baron. “I refuse to give in to the demands of others.”

  “At the cost of your own life?”

  “If need be. We must all take our own measure, Ludwig. Do you consider yourself a man of honour?”

  “To be truthful, I don’t think I’ve given it much thought.”

  “Do you stay true to your word?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, by your own admission, you are an honourable man. The Continent needs more like you, my young friend. See that you live long enough to do good.”

  “Is that what I’m doing now?”

  “I don’t know; you tell me. Earlier, you said you thought you were right where you were needed to be. What did you mean by that?”

  Ludwig waved him off. “I was simply rambling.”

  Lord Wulfram sat. “No, tell me, I beg you. It may be important.”

  “Very well. It occurred to me that my being here might allow this situation to be resolved.”