Warrior Knight

by Paul J Bennett

  “Can’t they do that, anyway?”

  “They can, but that’s where your allies come in. Remember, you won’t be alone on the battlefield. There'll be troops on either side of you doing the same thing.”

  Ludwig hefted the spear, holding it up. “You first, Arturo. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  Arturo nervously stepped forward.

  “Sling your shield for now,” said Ludwig. “We’ll work on that later.” He handed over the weapon, then pointed south. “Imagine the enemy is coming from that direction. Now plant your butt.”

  The men all laughed. “That’s what my missus says,” came a voice.

  Ludwig chuckled. The men were in good spirits. Surprising, given the circumstances, but a good sign nonetheless.

  “Like this?” asked Arturo.

  Ludwig made a slight correction to the man’s grip. “That’s it. Now keep it steady.” He walked to the front, then grasped the end of the spear right below the tip and pushed with all his might. Satisfied with the result, he looked back at his men. “As you can see, the spear is immovable. The placement is important. If the weapon slips, it could let a horseman through, and that would be the death of all of you. Now, the rest of you come forward and take up positions on either side. Let’s see if we can’t form a wall of spears.”

  They shambled forward, taking their time and examining Arturo’s pose before settling into their own. Ludwig waited as they each took up their positions, then moved down the line, testing every spear as he went.

  “Good,” he said. “You’ve got the right idea. Now, in battle, things can happen quickly, so you’ll have to be faster. Let’s have you return to your previous position. When I give the command, I want you to form a line and set your spears. Are we clear?”

  They all nodded. To Ludwig, this was like teaching children some new sort of game, but who was he to complain? In the end, this simple manoeuvre could make the difference between life and death.

  “Set spears!” he called out.

  The men formed line, but several struggled to find their place.

  Sergeant Krebbs palmed his face. “This is never going to work.”

  “I see the problem,” said Ludwig. “The men need to know where to stand. Let’s line everyone up, tallest on your right.”

  They began moving around.

  “Your other right,” called out Krebbs. “By the Saints, I swear half these men don’t even know their foot from their hand.” He stepped forward, cajoling the men into place.

  “Now,” said Ludwig, “say hello to your new neighbours. From now on, whenever you line up, those same men should be on either side.”

  He watched as the soldiers shook hands and chatted amiably.

  “Let's spread you out a bit, shall we?” He picked four men at random. “You four, move over that way.”

  He waited as they drifted over, then turned his back to the troops. Moments later, he turned around abruptly. “Set spears!”

  The men rushed into line. They still fidgeted, and one or two had to change their position when they realized they were in the wrong place, but they were getting better at it.

  “They’re doing well,” said Ludwig. “I want you to keep at them for a while longer, Sergeant. Do the same thing I did, mix them up, then have them form line. Ideally, they should be ready within, say, a count of ten?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Krebbs. “And where will you be, sir?”

  “Over with the archers. I have yet to see what we’ve got to work with. They’re in your hands now, so do me proud.”

  Ludwig felt altogether pleased with himself as he walked over to the archers. There was, of course, much more work to do than simply setting spears, but the men had responded well, and better yet, they appeared eager to learn, something he hadn't counted on.

  The bowmen had set up three targets made of coiled straw placed on simple tripod stands. The archers themselves had already started loosing their arrows, taking time to line up each pull of the bow before letting go.

  Ludwig watched them as they displayed their skills, having never developed a taste for it himself. Indeed, many nobles felt an aversion to the weapon, but it was considered essential on the battlefield, and there was no doubt these archers could hit a target. The real question was how effective they would be on the battlefield.

  He waved them over. “Gather round,” he called out. “Let’s have a chat.”

  They were soon before him, curious as to what he might say. “You’re good with target practice,” he began, “but in battle, when the enemy is breathing down your necks, it’ll be speed that’s most important.”

  “Don’t we need to hit the target?” asked one.

  “You do, but when a mass of footmen is approaching, there’ll be little chance of missing. In that situation, you’ll want to empty your quiver as quickly as possible. Now, what I’d like you to do is form a line up along here”—he pointed along the ground—“facing the targets.”

  He waited as they took their places. "I want you to loose off three arrows in quick succession. The first you’ll discharge on my command, with the others following as fast as you can manage.”

  “Ready bows,” Ludwig called out, then drew his sword and raised it on high. All eyes were on him, not an easy thing as they had the bowstrings pulled all the way back to their cheeks.

  “Loose,” he shouted as his sword swung down.

  The arrows flew downrange, each hitting its target. The next volley was ragged and less accurate, the third even more so.

  Ludwig nodded in appreciation. “Good. Recover your arrows, and we’ll try again. Let’s see if we can’t do a little better this time.”

  They repeated the exercise five times, each time getting a little faster. Ludwig couldn’t help but smile, for the men's enthusiasm was infectious.

  “All right, now follow me.” He led them over to the footmen, who appeared to be doing well under the tutelage of Krebbs. On noticing his commander's approach, the sergeant turned, bowing his head slightly in recognition.

  “Right,” said Ludwig, struggling to decide on the next step. He thought back to his own experiences with the Grim Defenders, and everything fell into place. “You’ve done well so far today,” he said. “We’ll finish things off with a march.”

  “A march?” said Krebbs.

  “Yes, we’ll take the men around the keep.”

  “In the courtyard, sir?”

  “No,” said Ludwig. “We’ll circle the perimeter from the outside.”

  “That’s a considerable distance.”

  “Yes it is, but it’s nothing compared to what the men will have to do to reach Torburg. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to undertake such a trip unprepared.”

  “How would you like to proceed, sir?”

  “Form up into twos and have them stay that way as we walk. Oh, and bring those spears and shields. We’ll do a little more practice as we march.”

  A groan escaped one of the men.

  “You may dislike it now,” said Ludwig, “but come time for battle, you’ll wish we'd done more.” He set off at a brisk pace.

  30

  Warrior’s March

  Summer 1095 SR

  * * *

  Two days later, they were on the move. Each man was issued a loaf of bread and a bag of oats, not exactly enough food to see them through to Torburg, but better than Ludwig had expected.

  To temper this, the baron had provided Ludwig with funds with which to purchase food, but it was unlikely there would be much left after the passing of Baron Stein’s army. He had also been promised the duke would see to provisions once they were in the capital. The real trick would be to get there in one piece. With this in mind, Ludwig had convinced the archers to load up with some broad-head arrows in addition to their bodkins, the better to hunt if given a chance.

  It was a risky idea, for technically, hunting the duke's deer was considered poaching, but Ludwig thought it unlikely to cause offence, considering t
hese men would soon be under the command of the ducal army.

  They set out under clear weather, with what remained of the village turned out to see them off. Ludwig thought this would be a send-off to fill the men with pride, but instead, the looks of dismay from the wives and children caused a lump to form in his throat. This was no game, he reminded himself, but the lives of living, breathing men.

  He found himself praying. “Give me strength, Saint Mathew, that I might bring these men safely back to their loved ones.”

  Sergeant Krebbs, who was marching at his side, looked over at him. “Did you say something, sir?”

  “No,” replied Ludwig. “I was just thinking aloud.”

  “If you say so.” The sergeant paused a moment before continuing. “Shouldn’t you be mounted? You are a knight after all.”

  “Look at me. I scarcely have any armour, let alone a horse.”

  “But you were born a noble, weren’t you? At least that’s what the men say.”

  “Yes, a baron’s son," admitted Ludwig. "And yes, before you ask, I once had nice armour and a horse, but I was foolish and lost most of it in a tournament.”

  “I bet that was a sight to see.”

  “Have you ever seen a tourney?”

  “No," said Krebbs, "I’ve never been more than a couple of days travel from Regnitz.”

  “Then you’ve never seen the capital?”

  “No, but I hear it’s quite the place.”

  Ludwig glanced back at his men, noting the sad faces. “Tell me, Sergeant, do you have a wife?”

  “Me? No, though I did come close once.”

  “Ah, I sense an interesting story.”

  “Not as interesting as you might imagine, sir. She married another.”

  “And there’s been no one since?”

  The sergeant blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t say no one, but definitely not a wife, and not for lack of trying either.”

  “Oh? You must tell me more.”

  “She runs the tavern in the village.”

  “Really?" said Ludwig. "I didn’t see anyone while I was there.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have, would you? Most of the villagers fled when the word came of the approaching army. Some got inside the keep, but others ran into the countryside.”

  “Is that where your sweetheart went?”

  “It was," said the sergeant with a wistful smile. "That’s my Agneth.”

  “Agneth? Don't you mean Agnes?”

  “It’s the same name, but in the ancient tongue.”

  “How ancient?”

  “They say it dates back to the old kingdom,” said Krebbs. “Whatever that means.”

  “There was a kingdom here before the duchy?”

  “Saints, no, that was centuries ago. No, it was those grey-eyed heathens who lived in these parts back then.”

  “The Therengians?” said Ludwig.

  “Aye, that’s them.”

  “Now you have my attention. Lord Wulfram indicated some still lived here in Erlingen. Are there many in Regnitz?”

  “A few, maybe one in ten. You can’t wipe out an entire people, sir, but a lot of them married outside their race, thinning out the bloodline. Although many still have the grey eyes.”

  “I thought they were feared?”

  Krebbs shrugged. “Not by the common folk, the nobles, on the other hand…”

  “What about the nobles?” asked Ludwig.

  “I gather they’re worried they might come back.”

  “What do you mean, ‘come back’? Where have they gone?”

  “I haven't the faintest, but every couple of years, the duke's men come round looking for anyone with grey eyes.”

  “To what end?”

  “It’s the mark of the old race.”

  “And what do they do when they find them? Arrest them?”

  “Saints, no," said the sergeant. "They only take their names.”

  “I still don’t see why?”

  “I’m told they’re not allowed to hold any position of power or influence,” explained Krebbs. “Not that there’s any need for it back in Regnitz. We haven’t any positions for people to hold.”

  “And other than these grey eyes, they are exactly like the rest of us?”

  “They are, but like I said, the duke gets worried about such things. This used to be part of their kingdom after all.”

  “I’ve heard as much. I always knew it used to lay somewhere within the Petty Kingdoms, but I never realized how close that was. You know, at its height, it was supposed to be unbeatable.”

  Krebbs laughed. “If that were true, they’d still be around. No, they were men, sir. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Still, it’s interesting to speculate we might be treading the same ground they did.”

  The sergeant shrugged. “It means little to me.”

  “Is that why you haven’t married this woman of yours, Agneth, wasn't it? Because of her eyes?”

  “No, it's because I couldn’t afford to keep her.”

  “I thought you said she owned the tavern?”

  “She does.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Does she not earn enough for the both of you?”

  “That’s just it, don’t you see? A man wants to provide for his woman.”

  Ludwig laughed. “I expect you’ll find that matters little to her. In any case, you’re a sergeant now, and that comes with a substantial pay increase.”

  Krebbs broke out into a broad grin. “I suppose it does. I didn’t think of that.”

  “There you go, another problem solved. Now, if only the enemy would be so accommodating.”

  * * *

  That evening they camped by the side of the road but not before Ludwig led them through some more manoeuvres. He was determined to see them adequately trained by the time they arrived in Torburg, and so this was to become the regular routine after a day of marching. The next morning they set out early, eager to put as many miles behind them as they could.

  He sent the archers out to either side in hopes of finding some game, and by evening, they had a pair of hares to supplement their meagre meal. It wasn’t much, split as it was amongst two dozen men, but it certainly helped.

  On the third day, they passed the keep at Mulsingen, Lord Gebhard’s ancestral home. The mood was sour as they marched by, and Ludwig kept a close eye on them, lest they wander off and seek reparations against the baron’s property.

  The next day, he called for a day of rest. The men, unused to the marching, were most thankful for the break, and the bowmen managed to bring down a deer. That night, for the first time in weeks, they had full bellies.

  A few days later, they came to a crossroads, along with a sign declaring Torburg was only some forty miles distant. After a brief rest, they continued on their way, following the road to the northwest. It was well travelled, which indicated the city was prospering, leading Sergeant Krebbs to become exceedingly loquacious.

  “I hear the city is big,” he said. “You’ve been there. What’s it like, sir?”

  “Much like Regnitz,” replied Ludwig, “but with more buildings squeezed in together.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “The first thing you’ll notice is the smell, but you'll soon grow used to it.”

  “The smell?”

  “Yes, it stinks because all their refuse is thrown into the streets. You can’t go more than a dozen paces without stepping in something. Mind you, I doubt we’ll be staying in the city itself. We’ll likely be camped on the tournament field.”

  “Oh, yes?” said Krebbs. “And where's that?”

  “To the south of the city. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to see all the buildings, just not up close.”

  “And will we have time to visit the place while we’re there, sir?”

  “That depends entirely on what the duke intends to do. I doubt we’ll sit still for long. Then again, the army might have already marched, in which case we’ll have to move quickly to cat
ch up.”

  “Do you suppose the army will be large?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve read all about them, but I’m afraid I have little practical experience.”

  “Nor me,” said Krebbs. “But don’t worry, sir, you’re more than up to the task.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The men look up to you, sir. You fought for the baron when all looked lost. They don’t forget things like that. We might all die in battle, but none of these poor sods will regret marching with you, of that, you can be sure.”

  “Thank you… I think?" said Ludwig. "I’m still trying to understand if that’s a good thing or not.”

  “Trust me, sir. It’s good. There’s only a handful of men who can inspire that kind of devotion, and you’re one of them.”

  “They’ve hardly known me for long,” protested Ludwig.

  “True, but they know what you did, and if Lord Wulfram’s willing to take you into his service, you must be good.”

  “Good? That’s an interesting word.”

  “How so, sir?”

  “It’s completely subject to interpretation. Take our enemy, for example.”

  “You mean Lord Gebhard?”

  Ludwig laughed. “No, I mean our neighbour, Andover. They’re the ones who are threatening invasion. Do you suppose they see themselves as evil?”

  Krebbs shrugged. “No, I suppose not.”

  “No, of course they don’t. In their minds, they’re the good ones, although why they’re invading is beyond me.”

  “It’s politics, sir. Beyond the understanding of simple folk like me.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one,” said Krebbs. “I just assumed. After all, such things are of little interest to commoners. It’s not as if we can affect the outcome.”

  “Ah,” said Ludwig, “but you are, don’t you see? It’s men like you who are marching to the duke’s aid. Without you, there can be no army.”

  The sergeant straightened his back. “Well, I suppose, when you put it like that…”

  “Never underestimate your own importance, Sergeant, and never take your men for granted.”