Warrior Knight

by Paul J Bennett

  Baldric moved closer, lifting his sword for another strike, but he'd forgotten about the stairs that circled above him. His blade scraped across the stone, and he let out a curse. A momentary distraction, yet enough for Ludwig to get to his feet and stab out with his own blade, doing little damage, but it bought him some time.

  He retreated up the stairs, watching as Baldric slowly followed. Ludwig’s mind was racing now, trying to think about how he could outmanoeuvre the oaf, but here, in this confined space, there was little room for such things.

  “I said I’d come for you,” boasted Baldric, “and here I am, ready to cut you into little pieces.”

  “You don’t scare me,” replied Ludwig. “You may be large, but you’re slow.”

  Baldric laughed. “Come, face me in fair combat, and I shall make your death swift.” He lunged unexpectedly, his sword stabbing out three times in rapid succession.

  Ludwig was forced back, struggling to maintain his footing. Baldric, energized by his success, redoubled his efforts, rushing forward, his body slamming into Ludwig and driving him back against the wall, his forearm up against the younger man's neck.

  Ludwig felt the air driven from his lungs, the force of his opponent's arm threatening to crush his windpipe. Dropping his sword, he gripped Baldric's arm, desperately trying to free himself. His head began to pound, and he felt as though his lungs would explode if he didn’t get some air into them soon.

  Baldric's putrid breath filled his nostrils. In his eyes, now only a hands breadth away from his own, Ludwig saw death coming for him. In a moment of clarity, he realized he was not ready to die. He would fight on, no matter what the cost!

  His knee came up straight into Baldric’s groin, and the big man crumpled, then slid down the stairs with an ear-piercing shriek.

  Ludwig wanted to lash out, finish off his foe, but all he could do was gasp for breath as his head cleared. Forcing himself to continue climbing the stairs, he used his hands to steady himself against the wall. Up he went, taking slow, measured steps, feeling fatigue set in.

  An open doorway came into view, the entrance to one of the upper floors, but Ludwig found it hard to focus. Was he on the third floor now, or the fourth? The stairs continued, but he paused, using the entrance to steady himself.

  He had a brief glimpse of Rosalyn down the hall right as Baldric smashed into him, driving him to the floor. His knees struck the stone, and then the air was pressed out of him yet again as the full weight of his foe fell upon him. Ludwig tried to roll over, but a flurry of blows into his side caused him to curl up into a ball.

  The sound of pottery breaking made him look up, and he saw Baldric staggering to his feet, his face cut and bleeding. Rosalyn stood defiantly, another plant in hand, poised to toss it like she had the first.

  Ludwig seized the opportunity, rolling to the side and kicking out. His foot struck a knee, and the great man’s leg buckled, smashing into the stone floor and eliciting a cry of anguish. Ludwig followed up by moving in close and grabbing his rival by the throat. This was his undoing.

  Baldric, a much larger opponent, used his own arms to smash down on Ludwig’s elbows, dislodging his grasp and clapping his hands around the younger man's neck, squeezing for all he was worth.

  For the second time today, Ludwig found his breath cut off. Baldric stood, lifting Ludwig as he rose, dangling him in the air. He tried to punch Baldric in the stomach, anything to dislodge the grip of death, but to no avail. His knuckles hit metal, and he felt blood as something bit into his hand. Coming to the realization it was Baldric's dagger, he pulled it forth and drove the blade into the great man’s belly. Again and again, he struck, and then finally, the fingers released.

  Ludwig fell to his knees gasping for air as Baldric staggered back, clutching at his stomach. A final breath escaped his foe's lips, and then he fell to the floor where he lay, motionless.

  Rosalyn called out to him, but Ludwig could do little to respond. Finally, he stood, still staring at the bloodied corpse of Baldric. Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, he gripped the dagger tighter, his fingers aching from the force of it.

  Through the doorway came Sigwulf, sword in hand. He halted as he saw the carnage.

  “I surrender,” gasped out Ludwig, dropping his weapon as his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.

  Sigwulf moved closer, cradling his friend's head. “Ludwig? Are you hurt?”

  Ludwig heard the voice but lacked the energy to respond. Instead, his hands started shaking, and he wondered if he had been afflicted by some sort of curse. He tried to calm himself, but to no avail. Someone pried open one of his eyes, and he realized Cyn looking down at him.

  “What’s wrong with him?” came Sigwulf’s voice.

  “He’s exhausted,” she replied. “And no wonder. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.”

  “He killed Baldric.”

  “No,” said Cyn. “He died in the assault. That’s all we need to say. Now help me lift him.”

  Sigwulf grunted. “Let me do it. You’ll only get in the way.”

  “And what am I to do?” she demanded.

  “See to that woman.”

  Ludwig heard Cyn stand. “You’re Lady Rosalyn, I presume?”

  “I am,” came the reply. Her steps grew closer. “Will Ludwig survive?”

  “I don’t see any reason why not,” said Sigwulf, “but he’ll need some rest.”

  “And then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he to be a prisoner, like me?”

  “No,” said Cyn. “We merely rescued him. He was a prisoner, wasn’t he?”

  “He was,” said Rosalyn. “What of me? Am I to be imprisoned?”

  “That’s not for us to say,” said Sigwulf, “but we are in the employ of Lord Gebhard, so it seems likely.”

  “On the other hand,” said Cyn, “His Lordship wants you in one piece to marry his son. I don’t imagine he’ll mistreat you in any way.”

  “No,” said Rosalyn. “He’ll merely force me to his son’s bed. Better that I was dead.”

  “Don’t say that,” pleaded Cyn. “While there's life, there's hope.”

  “I pray that is so.”

  28

  Aftermath

  Summer 1095 SR

  * * *

  “Put me down,” insisted Ludwig. “I can walk.”

  Sigwulf released him in the great hall, or what was left of it. So many bodies were strewn around, leading Ludwig to wonder how many had actually survived.

  “Lord Wulfram?” he asked.

  “Captured early in the fighting,” said Cyn. “He was injured by an arrow.”

  “Not seriously, I hope?”

  “He’ll recover, providing Lord Gebhard doesn’t kill him first.”

  Sigwulf shook his head. “All this death because of a woman.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Ludwig. “It’s the dowry.”

  “I doubt there’s much of that left now. It’ll all be needed to repair this keep.”

  “On that, I think we are agreed. What of the Grim Defenders, did you lose many more?”

  “Less than half a dozen, though we have a further nine with light wounds. We're the lucky ones. Baron Stein sent in the Blades of Vengeance ahead of us, and they suffered terribly.”

  “I suppose we’d best get outside. No doubt Lord Gebhard will wish to gloat.”

  “He will,” agreed Sigwulf, “and I suspect he’ll be pleased to see Lady Rosalyn.”

  “What will happen to her?” asked Ludwig.

  “I have no idea. In any event, it’s out of our hands. If you remember, we’re only hired swords.”

  “It hardly seems worth it, looking back.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Cyn. “We got paid. All in all, I’d say that’s a good few weeks of work.”

  “Yes,” added Sigwulf, “but I suppose that puts us out of a job now.”

  “What will the company do?” asked Ludwig.

  "I i
magine the captain will take us back to Torburg. There’s likely a better chance of finding employment there.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “We’ll probably camp here for a few days so Lord Gebhard can pay us. Speaking of which, we must be off. He’s not a man you want to upset.”

  They wandered through the battered keep doors and into the courtyard. Lord Gebhard's troops were meandering around, gathering up weapons and seeing to the wounded while he was seated upon his horse, watching the door as people were brought out. At the sight of Lady Rosalyn, he smiled.

  “There she is, Hagan, the jewel of Regnitz.”

  The baron’s son looked up from where he was talking to a wounded man. Ludwig noticed the look of pleasure on the younger Stein as his eyes beheld the daughter of Lord Wulfram. Hagan moved closer, bowing at the waist.

  “Lady Rosalyn,” the man said. “I deeply regret the circumstances under which we meet.”

  “You are well-spoken, Master Hagan. If only your father were so well-versed in courtly manners.”

  Lord Gebhard glared at her but then looked to get his temper in check. Instead of yelling, he bowed his head slightly. “My dear Lady Rosalyn, I’m happy to see you safe.”

  “Why?” she asked. “So you can force me to marry your son?”

  “Would that be so bad? After all, think of the alternative? I could always hand you over to my men.”

  “Father!” said Hagan. He returned his attention to Lady Rosalyn. “I must apologize for the harsh words,” he said. “I promise you no such fate awaits you.”

  “Is it common practice for you to speak against your father thus?” Rosalyn asked.

  “No, but in this case, I must insist.”

  “It will do you no good, sir, for I will not marry you of my own free will.”

  “Nor would I ask you to,” said Hagan.

  Lord Gebhard looked like he was going to say something, but then two soldiers exited the keep, Lord Wulfram between them. The Baron of Regnitz had a bloody bandage around his thigh, along with numerous bruises, cuts, and scrapes, but he was walking under his own power.

  “There he is,” said Lord Gebhard. “The vanquished finally reveals himself.”

  “Spare me the gloating,” said Lord Wulfram. “I surrender to you, sir, and order all my men to lay down their arms.”

  “I’m afraid you’re far too late for that, my friend. My men have captured or killed everyone in your employ. How does it feel to be utterly defeated?”

  Lord Wulfram was defiant. “You may have defeated me, but you will come to rue the day you did so.”

  “Will I, now? I think it's you who will come to rue the day, sir, not I.”

  “Where do you want him, my lord?” asked one of Baron Haas's escorts.

  Lord Gebhard smiled. “Bring him to me,” he said. “I would see the look of utter defeat in his eyes.”

  The guards shoved Lord Wulfram forward, and he staggered a little but quickly recovered. Ludwig saw the pride in the lord. He might have been beaten in battle, but he was far from cowed. Lord Gebhard, on the other hand, could do little but gloat.

  “Marvellous,” he said, “simply marvellous.”

  He dismounted, then stood, waiting as the object of his scorn was brought closer. The Baron of Mulsingen locked eyes with his rival. “Kneel,” he commanded.

  “I shall do no such thing!”

  Baron Stein’s face grew red as he drew his sword, holding the tip to his captive’s chest. “I said kneel!”

  Lord Wulfram remained obstinate, causing his captor to look at his men. With a nod, the guards forced Baron Haas to his knees.

  Stein smiled. “Now, plead for your life.”

  “I will not give you the satisfaction. If you’re going to kill me, Gebhard, then stop mucking about and get it over with.”

  Ludwig noticed Lord Gebhard’s arm tense. He half expected the man to plunge the blade into the chest of his rival, but something stayed his hand.

  “No,” he said instead. “Killing you is too easy.” Baron Stein leaned down into a crouch, the better to look into his enemy's eyes. “I’m going to lock you up in the darkest bowels of Mulsingen, Wulfram. There, you’ll rot until the end of time.” He smiled, giving himself a chilling expression. “And while you’re there, in the darkness, know my son will be rutting with your daughter.”

  “Father!” called out Hagan.

  Lord Gebhard put his hand up, warning his son to silence, but kept his eyes on Wulfram. “What have you to say for yourself now, I wonder?”

  The sound of hooves galloping across the drawbridge echoed through the courtyard, and then a trio of riders appeared. Ludwig had no idea who they were, but one of them carried an important-looking flag bearing a coat of arms.

  Baron Stein obviously had no such trouble, straightening his back as soon as he spotted them. “My lord,” he said. “What brings you to Regnitz?”

  “What’s going on here?” one of the newcomers demanded.

  It was Hagan who supplied the answer. “Lord Anwald,” he began. “My father has just captured Regnitz Keep.”

  Anwald looked like he was going to explode. “You what?”

  “My son speaks the truth,” said Lord Gebhard. “We have captured Regnitz.”

  “You will be lucky to retain your title after this,” said Anwald. “I rode all the way to Mulsingen to tell you to raise your army, Stein, and what do you think I found?”

  “To raise my army?”

  “Yes, you fool. Erlingen is under threat of invasion, and here I find you’re doing the work of the enemy! You’ve not only weakened your own forces on this ridiculous scheme of yours, but those of Lord Wulfram as well!”

  Baron Stein was utterly taken aback. “But I had no idea, my lord.”

  “By the Saints, man, you’re lucky I don’t send you to the axeman.”

  “What can I do to make it up to His Grace?”

  “You can start by releasing Wulfram.”

  Ludwig watched Lord Gebhard struggle with the decision. It was clear he hated doing it, but his loyalty to his duke was obviously greater than his desire to punish his rival.

  Baron Stein turned on his men. “Release him,” he snapped.

  Lord Wulfram rose, then bowed to Lord Anwald. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. There’s much work to be done.” Anwald returned his attention to Stein. “Assemble your troops, Baron. Your duke needs you.”

  “Of course," said Lord Gebhard. "To where do we march?”

  “Torburg, and let’s hope we’re not too late.”

  “It’s that serious?”

  “I left the capital a week and a half ago, and at that time, we’d heard Andover was massing at the border. I pray this little sideshow of yours has not cost us too much time.”

  “And how may I serve?” asked Lord Wulfram.

  “Do what you must here, then meet us in Torburg.”

  “I have only a few men left, my lord.”

  “Even a dozen is better than none,” said Anwald. "It may very well make the difference between victory and disaster.”

  Lord Anwald looked around the courtyard. “Who are all these men? They don’t look like yours, Stein?”

  “They are mercenaries, my lord.”

  “Good. Bring them with you when you march.”

  “They are expensive, my lord.”

  “I’m sure His Grace, the duke, will compensate you for your investment,” said Anwald. “Now, get your men moving. I want them on the road before nightfall.”

  Baron Stein bowed deeply. “Of course, Lord.”

  Lord Wulfram moved to his daughter, holding her in an embrace.

  Ludwig wandered over, eager to have words with the man. “My lord,” he started. “I would seek release from the terms of our agreement.”

  “I will gladly give it,” replied Baron Haas. “You are an honourable man, Ludwig. I would be proud to have you in my service.”

  Rosalyn whispered something in
her father's ear, and his face lit up. “What a marvellous idea,” he said, turning to Ludwig. “You’ve proven yourself to be a man of exceptional qualities. Would you consider leading my troops, few as they are?”

  Ludwig was overcome with emotion. “I…”

  “Give him time, Father,” said Rosalyn.

  “Yes, of course,” said the baron. “Please, take all the time you like.”

  “I would welcome the opportunity,” said Ludwig, “but I fear I am still employed by the Grim Defenders.”

  “You can forget that,” called out Sigwulf. “Captain Ecke struck you from the roster right after you were captured.”

  “Yes,” added Cyn. “You can’t really blame the man. After all, everyone thought you dead.”

  “Well, now,” said Lord Wulfram. “It appears that impediment has been removed. What do you say, my young friend? Will you lead my men?”

  “I'm flattered,” said Ludwig. "I shall be happy to do my part to help repel the invasion, but eventually, I’d like to return home to Verfeld. I can hardly do that if I’m in service to a lord.”

  “Then serve me now, and when this war is over, I shall release you from your oath.”

  “In that case, my lord, I'd be honoured to lead your contingent.”

  “Good,” said Lord Wulfram. “Now, someone give me a sword.”

  “My lord?” said Ludwig.

  The baron looked around. “Anyone?”

  Sigwulf stepped forward, drawing his blade. “Will this one do, Your Lordship?”

  Wulfram smiled, taking the sword and holding it up to examine the hilt. “A fine weapon. Might I ask where you acquired it?”

  “On the coast,” said Sigwulf, “quite some distance from here.”

  The baron turned to Ludwig. “Kneel.”

  “My lord?”

  “He said kneel,” said Cyn. “He can’t very well knight you if you’re standing.”

  “Sure he can,” said Sigwulf.

  “You stay out of this,” she replied.

  Ludwig looked at Lord Wulfram in surprise. “Knighted? Me?”