Ludwig blushed.
“Good,” continued Lord Hurst. “Now bury that feeling deep inside you. If you want to get ahead in life, you need to be ruthless. Look at me, I was once like these gentlemen, eking out an existence on a small parcel of land.”
“And now?” said Ludwig.
“Now, I am the most powerful noble in all of Erlingen, with the possible exception of His Grace, of course. Speaking of which, where is the duke?”
“As I mentioned earlier,” said Helmer, “he’s—”
“Wait, don’t tell me. He’s dealing with marital issues. Doesn’t he realize there’s a war going on?”
“Of course I do.”
Every single one of them turned at the proclamation. Lord Deiter Henrich, the Duke of Erlingen, was tall, with a flowing black beard braided on the sides.
“Is this everyone?” he asked, his voice deep and rich.
“I’m afraid so, Your Grace,” said Kruger. “But I’m told the rest will be in Torburg within a matter of days.”
“Then they’ll have to catch up to us.”
“Then we mean to march?”
“We do,” said the duke. “And soon, before it’s too late.”
Ludwig’s ears pricked up. “Have you news, Your Grace?” he asked.
The duke swivelled his gaze. “Sir Ludwig, I presume?”
“Yes, my lord. How did you know?”
Lord Deiter smiled. “I won a substantial amount because of you.”
“You bet on me?”
The duke roared with laughter. “No, son, against you, at the tournament. By the Saints, I’ve never seen a man knocked so quickly from the saddle.”
Ludwig reddened.
“Fear not, I shan’t hold it against you. I understand you’re now in Lord Wulfram’s employ?”
“I am, Your Grace.”
“Well, it’s nice to see he’s recruited someone with manners.” He turned to the rest of the nobles. “Now, I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here?”
“It had crossed our minds,” said Helmer.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid relations with our northern neighbour have soured of late." He held up his hands to forestall any argument. “Now, I take full responsibility for it. I know the circumstances surrounding my late wife's death led to some concern in the court of Andover, but that's in the past. What we must concern ourselves with now is defeating the impending invasion of our soil. To that end, we shall head for Chermingen in the morning.”
“What shall be the order of march?” asked Lord Rengard.
“By order of seniority,” replied the duke. “That means Hurst will follow my own troops.”
“I have more troops than Rengard,” insisted Lord Helmer. “I should, therefore, march before he does.”
Lord Deiter turned his gaze on Rengard. “Is this true?”
The man nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
“I see. Consider the matter settled, then.”
A challenge outside the tent caught the duke’s attention. Moments later, Lord Gebhard Stein entered, looking incredibly flustered.
“Lord Gebhard,” said the duke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How nice of you to join us.”
“My apologies, Your Grace. It appears your aides did not inform me of the summons in a timely manner.” Gebhard shuffled into the room, humbled by his tardiness.
“Now,” continued the duke, “where was I?”
Kruger spoke up. “You were talking about the order of march?”
“Ah, yes, thank you. Now, let’s see, Lord Wulfram will naturally be bringing up the rear, with Gebhard right in front of him.”
“I must object, my lord,” said Gebhard. “I have more troops than Rengard.”
“Only because of those mercenaries,” said Helmer. “You should be thankful you’re not bringing up the rear like Wulfram here.”
The duke simply let them argue the point, not deigning to provide a definitive answer.
"Speaking of mercenaries,” said Hurst, “will you be taking on the cost of the Blades of Vengeance, Your Grace?”
“I can hardly leave it to Lord Gebhard to bear the expense. He’s broke enough at it is.” The lords all chuckled at the duke’s remark.
Ludwig had to wonder at a ruler who would demean his own nobles so openly. He wanted to speak out, to complain about Baron Stein’s treatment, but knew they wouldn't listen. Instead, he remained silent, aghast at the callous treatment being dealt out.
“And once we get to Chermingen?” asked Kruger.
“At that point," continued the duke, "we will have to assess the situation. We have reports of an army massing right across from Lieswel, but we have yet to receive any word of their crossing the border.”
“So all this could be for naught?”
“One does not mass an army near the border only to make things inconvenient. If they choose not to cross into Erlingen, then we shall cross into Andover and deal them a blow from which they shall never recover.”
All the lords were energized by the thought. “That being the case,” said Lord Helmer, “are we to carry on and conquer all of Andover?”
“It's a distinct possibility,” said the duke, “but it largely depends on whether or not we can defeat their army.”
“My lord,” said Rengard, “can there be any doubt? Our forces shall crush those of the enemy. Why, it should then be a simple matter to march to their capital.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” offered Lord Kruger. “Defeating an army and conquering the land are two very different things.”
“Yes,” argued Helmer, “but the two are closely related.”
“Indeed,” added Hurst, “and no doubt there would be land aplenty for the victors. Who knows, even Stein might find his fortunes improving.”
Lord Gebhard reddened but kept silent.
“Before I let you go,” said the duke, “there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.”
“Which is?” asked Kruger.
“The knights and their deployment.”
“What is there to discuss; each knight shall serve under the lord who sponsors them. Is there any other way?”
“I thought we’d mass them all together,” said Lord Deiter. “That way, they’d pack more of a punch.”
Kruger paled. “But Your Grace, such a move would strip away our best warriors.”
“Do you not have footmen?” asked Ludwig.
They all looked at the knight, distaste evident on their faces.
“And what would you know of such things?” asked Hurst.
“I have studied warfare since I was a child.”
“So then that would make it, what, three years ago?”
Lord Helmer soon chimed in. “Yes, and you command… what was it? Oh, yes, two dozen men. It hardly makes you an expert on the matter. Try coming back when you’ve got some experience under your belt.”
“Do not dismiss him so readily,” warned Lord Wulfram. “He has rather recently been in a siege, as have I. That’s more experience than most of you put together.”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to talk,” said Lord Gebhard.
“Your Grace,” said Hurst. “It appears the children are squabbling again. Might I suggest you send them to their rooms?”
“Don’t patronize me,” said Gebhard.
Ludwig felt the weight of his responsibilities. He had prayed to Saint Mathew to see his men returned safely home, but now it appeared the barons were more intent on fighting with each other than defeating the enemy.
The duke was content to stand back and let his nobles argue, so much so that while his barons bickered, he was helping himself to some more wine. Was there no end to this madness?
“What would the Church do?” interjected Ludwig.
The room fell silent.
“What was that?” asked the duke.
“The Church,” he continued. “I was just wondering what the Temple Knights would do under these circumstances. I bet they w
ouldn’t stand around arguing over who has the most men. They’d march towards the enemy and deliver a crippling blow.
“I suppose they would,” said the duke, “but then again, we have no such men amongst our ranks.”
“But you have knights,” said Ludwig. “Are they not trained in the arts of war?”
Lord Hurst took a step towards him. “Do you dare to lecture His Grace?”
The duke held up his hand. “Let him speak. I would hear his words.”
Everyone’s eyes fell on Ludwig. He felt the pressure building until he could no longer contain his excitement. “The knights are the cream of your army, but you must hold them until the moment of greatest impact.”
“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting?” said the duke.
“I’m agreeing with your idea to mass them together, but I would go further.”
“Go further, how, exactly?”
“Your command is fractured, Your Grace, with each of your nobles fighting over their place. I propose you organize your army by type, then designate experienced warriors to lead them.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Kruger. “They’re our men, not the duke's.”
“Yes,” agreed Helmer. “What kind of nonsense is this? Do you seriously think we would agree to such terms?”
“But it could mean the difference between victory and defeat,” said Ludwig.
“We will win through our superiority of arms,” said the duke. “Let us not hear any more of this nonsense. Now, I dare say we’ve had enough for today. Return to your men, and get them ready for the march. We leave at first light.”
The barons all grumbled, and Ludwig couldn’t help but see them as petulant children, newly chastised by a parent.
“Sir Ludwig,” said the duke, “I would have you stay a moment longer.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He remained where he was, noting the look of concern on Lord Wulfram’s face as the baron left the tent.
Lord Deiter walked over to a table, selecting a bottle, pulling the cork and sniffing the contents before pouring himself a cup.
“You know,” he began, “I remember when I was your age.”
“Surely not that long ago, Lord.”
The duke turned to face him, drink in hand. He was smiling, but despite that, Ludwig couldn’t help but feel it hid a temper.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my place, Lord.”
“It's understandable, given the circumstances.” He swirled his cup, then took a sip. “You impress me, Sir Ludwig.”
“I do, my lord?”
“Aye. The last I saw you, you were the worst jouster to grace the tournament in years. Now, here you stand, a few months later, the very model of a fighting warrior. I sense much has happened in that time.”
“It has, Lord.”
“Then share with me what has transpired. I need a tale to amuse me and give me some small respite from the burden I bear.”
“Burden?”
“Yes, the burden of command. Are you familiar with the term?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Then come, speak to me of your exploits.”
“Well, it all started when I lost that joust…”
* * *
Ludwig didn't leave the tent until well past noon. Lord Wulfram met him as he exited, concern written on his face.
“You were in there for quite some time. I hope he wasn’t too hard on you.”
“Not at all,” replied Ludwig. “In fact, he was most gracious.”
“The duke was? That’s not like him. He’s usually dreadfully antagonistic, even at the best of times. Why, I’ve seen him reduce a man to tears with nothing but a glance.”
“Not so with me. I assume it's because I’m an outsider.”
“I don’t understand how that would make a difference.”
“Don’t you see? I ask nothing of His Grace, not land, wealth, or even influence, thus he bears me no ill will.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I told him about everything that had befallen me in the last few months.”
A look of horror crossed the baron’s face. “Everything?”
“More or less,” said Ludwig. “But don’t worry, I had only nice things to say about you.”
33
The Army Marches
Summer 1095 SR
* * *
The march began the next day; if march was the right word for it. Men assembled, horses saddled, but they spent much of the morning doing little other than standing around waiting. Apparently, it was one thing to schedule an army to march, quite another to actually execute the command. The duke was to lead the army, but still, he himself did not rise till mid-morning, likely the result of too much time spent in the company of his new wife, or so the rumours claimed.
When he finally did appear, he looked hungover and tired, climbing into his carriage with little thought to issuing commands. His brief appearance complete, he left it for others to issue the actual orders for the advance to begin. Soldiers began moving, but their placement on the tournament grounds worked against them, creating log jams of men as they fought over who had the right of way.
By mid-afternoon, Ludwig’s men were getting hungry. He ordered them to rest, knowing full well they were destined to bring up the rear. There was no sense in wearing themselves out when half the army still hadn’t moved. Thus Lord Wulfram found them lounging on the ground, though if he was surprised, he gave no sign of it.
“Any news on when we can march?” asked Ludwig.
“I’m afraid not. There’s been some kind of commotion about half a mile up the road. Apparently, Stein and Rengard have had a disagreement.”
“Let me guess, it’s about who goes first?”
“It is, as a matter of fact. If they don’t sort it out soon, we may be here until nightfall, and I don’t mind telling you I don’t want to be marching in the dark.”
“We may have little choice, my lord.”
Lord Wulfram sighed. “I suppose that’s true, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Did you see the duke this morning?”
“No, did you?”
“Only from a distance. He didn’t look well.”
“Is he sick?”
“No,” said Ludwig, “at least not that I know. I suspect he was hungover.”
“Ah, yes, the new wife. I understand he drinks to excess when she’s around.”
“You’ve met her?”
“I have,” said Wulfram.
“What’s she like?”
“She is a handsome woman, with refined manners, most of the time.”
“Handsome?” said Ludwig. “Not beautiful or pretty?”
Lord Wulfram smiled. “I can conceive of no other way to describe her. She’s not a great beauty, yet she has a certain presence, a quiet dignity that can’t be denied.”
“What is she like as a person?”
“A difficult question to answer. I've only met her twice, and to be honest, I’ve never been in her presence long enough to form an opinion.”
Ludwig laughed. “That’s a guarded comment.”
Lord Wulfram grinned. “I suppose it is, isn’t it, but I must be charitable. After all, she is the duchess now.”
“Out of curiosity, what happened to his last wife, the one from Andover?”
“Ah, now that was a genuine tragedy. She drowned, you see.”
“Drowned? At sea?”
“No, more’s the pity. She was out boating on the river, and the boat capsized. Such a terrible waste.”
“How many died?”
“Only her,” said Lord Wulfram. “It wasn’t a big boat, you understand, just a small affair, with her and the boatman aboard. They were rowing out to a ship to say goodbye to the duke.”
“She couldn’t have said goodbye before he boarded?”
The baron blushed. “Well, he had been busy the night before.”
“What does that mean?”
“He'd been i
n the company of another woman.”
“Let me guess, his current wife?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess," admitted Ludwig. "How long had she been at court?”
“Several months, although she only caught the duke’s eye a few weeks before he set sail.”
“Rather convenient, don’t you think, my lord?”
“I must admit it’s decidedly suspicious, but there's little that could be done about it. I suppose, looking back, I can see why the King of Andover was upset.”
“It’s more than that,” said Ludwig. “It likely led to this war.”
Lord Wulfram stared back at him, the words sinking in. “By the Saints, I suppose it did. I should have thought of it sooner.”
“It would make little difference. It’s not as if we could bring her back from the dead.”
“No, I suppose not. Still, it would have been nice to know.”
“You said the duke was combative. Is he like that with everyone in Erlingen?”
“Everyone except his wife.”
“Was he always like that?”
“No, as a young man, he was outgoing and a delight to be around. He changed when he lost his first wife.”
“You mean his first legal wife or the one the Church wouldn’t recognize?”
The baron tried to hide his smirk. “I see you were paying attention. When he was a young man, he ran away from home and married a commoner. They set up house in a small village to the west of here, near the city of Grozen. Of course, that was long before he became duke.”
“What happened?”
“They found him. You can’t hide when you’re the son of a duke, at least not in Erlingen.”
“I managed it quite well,” said Ludwig.
“Yes, but you’re a baron’s son and not trying to hide in your own land.”
“What happened to his wife?”
"His father had the Church dissolve his marriage, and he was forbidden to set eyes on her ever again.”
“That must have been hard.”
“Hard? It broke him, took him years to recover. He remarried, of course; he had to, to continue the line, but I never saw any joy in his life after that.”
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