“Like what?”
“Her interests. Does she ride? Knit? Joust?”
Hagan laughed again. “Joust? What manner of woman jousts? Honestly, you’re too much sometimes, Ludwig.”
“I admit that jousting is likely not on her list of things she participates in, but she might like to watch. I know she likes tournaments.”
“Does she? How interesting. Could be there's more to this woman than meets the eye.”
“Isn’t there always?”
“I assume you've some experience with women?”
“Well,” said Ludwig, “I’m not an innocent if that’s what you mean.”
“And have you ever been in love?”
“Only once, but it didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Hagan. “Did she die?”
“Die? Why in the name of the Saints would you even suggest that?”
“I just assumed. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with you after all. You’re the son of a baron. Why wouldn’t a woman find you irresistible?”
“I’m flattered you hold me in such high esteem, but the truth is it wasn’t her choice, nor was it mine. My father objected to our union.”
“Ah,” said Hagan. “She was an unsuitable match then, according to your father.”
“She was.”
“Was she a commoner?”
“Yes," said Ludwig, "and not only that, she had a trade.”
“A trade? Surely not.”
“She was a smith, as was her father.”
“Now you’re pulling my leg. A female smith. What a preposterous idea.”
Ludwig felt his temper flaring, but before he could formulate a response, they rode past the last of the buildings and into the field that lay to the north. Before them lay the army of Erlingen, an imposing sight, for it stretched on as far as the eye could see. They both halted, causing the men behind them to march around their position.
“Saints alive,” said Hagan. “There must be thousands of them.”
“Indeed,” said Ludwig, “but the real question is where our men are supposed to camp? I don’t see a spare section of field anywhere.”
“There’s someone up ahead, directing troops,” said Hagan. “Let's hope he can tell us.”
Ludwig halted the men, then joined his commander. They rode over to the man in question, who, having just finished dealing with someone, turned to greet them, revealing a familiar face.
“Kurt?” said an astonished Ludwig. “What are you doing here?”
His old comrade smiled. “Looking after the duke’s business, what else?” He looked past them to see the warriors lined up on the road. “Are those all yours?”
“They belong to Lord Hagan Stein. I'm merely his aide.”
Kurt consulted a list, then looked eastward, pointing. “You’ll camp over there by the farmer's field just beyond that treeline.”
“That far?” said Hagan.
“I’m afraid so, my lord," said Kurt. "I’ve been ordered to keep certain parties away from each other.”
“To what end?” asked Ludwig.
“There are several rivalries that could lead to bloodshed. His Grace would like them to save that type of behaviour for the enemy.”
“Rest assured, you won’t have any trouble from us.”
Again Kurt glanced at his notes. “That’s not what it says here.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Hagan.
“According to this, we’ve had reports of a run-in with a group of mercenaries. Do the Blades of Vengeance sound familiar?”
Ludwig blushed.
“That,” added Hagan, “was a minor disagreement.”
“That disagreement injured half a dozen men, my lord. A few more altercations like that, and we won’t need an enemy army to destroy us.”
Hagan cleared his throat. “You say the field was to the east?”
“Yes, my lord. Follow the path here, and it will lead you towards the treeline.”
“Thank you.”
Ludwig ordered the men eastward, through the muck and mire Kurt Wasser had called a path. So many had already trod the route that it was now little more than a road of mud that sucked at men's boots.
“Keep an eye on the rear of the column,” said Hagan. “I shouldn’t like anyone to be left behind.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Ludwig. He wheeled Clay around, trotting down the side of the column towards its back end. There, the archer, Simmons, already appeared to be stuck in the mud. Sergeant Krebbs was pulling on one of his arms, trying to extricate the man but with only limited success. Ludwig brought his horse closer, the intent being to assist, but as he did, the archer's foot finally pulled free.
“Walk on the side of the path,” ordered Ludwig, “or it’ll take us all night to get to our designated location.”
“Aye, sir,” said Krebbs.
Ludwig shook his head. He could well imagine what awaited them once they marched to battle. A muddy path was probably the least of their worries.
Kurt’s voice drifted towards him in the wind. “You are not allowed,” he was saying.
Ludwig gazed westward to where his old mentor was addressing a group of a dozen men. His interest piqued, he rode closer.
“But we want to fight for the duke,” a man was saying. “Why can't you understand that?”
“I’m sorry, but by order of His Grace, you are forbidden from holding any rank, and that includes leading these men.”
“Is there a problem here?” Ludwig called out.
The stranger turned to him, revealing grey eyes. “This man won’t let us fight for the duke,” he said.
“That is not what I said,” argued Kurt. “I merely indicated you're not allowed to command them.”
“What’s your name?” asked Ludwig.
“Beornoth, and I’ve brought a dozen men to help the cause, but this fool won’t allow them in.”
Ludwig looked at Kurt, who merely shrugged.
“It’s the duke’s law,” he defended. “Therengians are not allowed to hold any positions of command, especially leading troops, no matter how few their numbers.”
“I’m sure he could make an exception here, don’t you? After all, we need every man we can get.”
“I cannot go against the wishes of His Grace.”
Ludwig looked over the small group. They were armed with axes and shields, and at least half of them had helmets. “Can you fight?” he asked.
“We wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t,” said Beornoth.
“I’ll take them into Lord Hagan’s group if they’re willing.”
Kurt looked at the Therengian. “Well? Does that suit you?”
“It does,” said Beornoth. He turned to Ludwig. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I’m not a lord,” said Ludwig, “merely a knight, but in any case, you’re welcome. We can always use more men, and yours look like they’ve seen a fight or two.”
“That they have,” the man replied.
“Follow me, and I’ll take you to our camp. Did you bring any blankets?”
“For what?”
“To sleep on?”
“No, Sir…”
“Sir Ludwig of Verfeld.”
“Never heard of it,” replied the Therengian.
“Nor would I expect you to. I hail from a place called Hadenfeld. It lies some distance away.”
“Might I ask what brought you here?”
Ludwig smiled. “It’s a long story, so perhaps another time. What of yourself? I must say it’s a little odd to see a group of your people looking so battle hardened.”
“Our story is likely as long as yours, sir, and best told around the fire with plenty of drink”—he glanced around—“away from the ears of Erlingeners.”
The statement immediately caught Ludwig’s attention. “I understand completely. Now, if we can get through this mud, I’ll show you to the camp."
* * *
By the time darkness descended, they were sitting before a
fire. Lord Hagan, at first, was delighted more men had joined his command, but the news they were Therengians was not well received.
“You know the duke's wishes in this regard,” he said, “yet you tempt his wrath?”
“They are warriors,” defended Ludwig, “and seasoned ones at that. We’ll need every man we can muster when we face the invaders. What does it matter the colour of their eyes?”
“Fine, but I shall hold you responsible for them. And don’t even consider making any of them sergeants, do you hear me?”
“Yes, my lord.” Ludwig watched as Hagan rode off, no doubt seeking out his father, then his attention returned to the men in the encampment. The newcomers, welcomed by the soldiers, gathered around the fires, likely telling stories as was often done. Obviously, the common soldier didn’t care about a man's eyes so long as he fought alongside the others. Now, if only the nobles could be convinced to give up their prejudices.
He wandered over to one of the campfires where Sigwulf and Cyn were chatting with Beornoth and sharing a drink.
“Is that more of that disgusting wine?” Ludwig called out.
“No,” replied Sigwulf. “Ale, if you can believe it. Care for some?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Hah,” added Cyn. “You knew all along we’d offer it to you. Don’t try to say otherwise.”
“I confess you have the right of it. Now pass over that cup, or I might be forced to confiscate it.”
She passed him a drink, and he took a tentative sniff. Content it was not tainted by mushrooms this time, he took an experimental sip. “Not bad. Where did you get this?”
“Don’t ask,” said Sigwulf. “It’s best you don’t know.”
Ludwig took another swig. “Then forget I said anything. I see you’ve met Beornoth here.”
“We have,” said Sigwulf, staring back.
Ludwig could sense something else going on but decided not to press the issue. Sig would reveal whatever it was when he was ready.
“Well,” said Beornoth, rising, “I should get some sleep. It’s been a long day. Good night to you, Sir Ludwig, and to you two.” He nodded to Cyn and Sigwulf, then left them to their thoughts.
Sigwulf waited until he was out of sight before speaking. “You do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”
“No, what? Hired a Therengian?”
“He’s more than that.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Did you note the man’s torc?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention to such things. Why?”
“It bears the symbol of Tauril.”
“Who is…?”
“For Saint’s sake, Ludwig,” said Cyn. “Don’t you know anything about religion? She’s the goddess of the earth.”
“So?”
“So the man worships the old Gods.”
“It matters not to me,” said Ludwig. “All I care about is the fact that he can fight.”
“Then ask yourself this, my friend. How did a Therengian get battle experience? You know they’re not allowed to form their own bands.”
Ludwig shrugged. “I assumed he had served a lord of some type.”
“But the nobles here don’t like their type,” piped in Cyn.
“That makes sense from what I’ve heard, but I still don’t see what it is you're trying to intimate.”
“Then let me say it plain and simple for you,” she continued. “The man’s a rebel.”
“We’re all trying to change things in one way or another.”
“No,” said Sigwulf. “She means they’ve fought against the duke’s rule of Erlingen.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You ask that knowing my history? Come now, Ludwig, you know I’m right.”
“WE'RE right,” corrected Cyn.
“I suppose it’s possible," admitted Ludwig, "but what of it? They want to fight, and we need experienced warriors. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“So it doesn’t bother you you're harbouring criminals?” asked Cyn.
“Can you say the Grim Defenders are any different?”
“Of course there’s a difference. We’re mercenaries, not sworn to the service of some lord.”
“But you are,” argued Ludwig. “Go and ask your captain if you don’t believe me. It matters little if you’re on contract or a sworn man; you still fight for him.”
“So this whole situation doesn’t bother you?”
“I’ll admit it’s inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” said Cyn. “It’s far more than that, Ludwig. We could be hung for this.”
“Hanged,” said Sigwulf.
“What?”
“A person is hanged, not hung,” corrected the large warrior.
“You know what I mean.”
“Who else knows?” asked Ludwig.
“Likely only us. It’s not as if he’s displaying his religion out in the open. I only noticed it as he leaned over the fire.”
“Good, then let’s keep it that way. If you get a chance, have a word with Beornoth. Tell him I don’t care what he worships, but there are others about who might. It would be in his best interest to keep his torc hidden, for all our sakes.”
“I’ll let him know,” said Sigwulf, “but I can’t tell you how he’ll react.”
“If he gives you any trouble, send him to me.”
“What about the rest of his people?” asked Cyn.
Ludwig cast his eyes about, taking in the camp. “If they’re rebels, as you say, then they’ll be careful about revealing it to anyone here.”
“Then why speak to them at all? If they were caught, you could always deny knowing anything about their background? After all, you’re not even from Erlingen.”
“No,” said Ludwig. “I brought them into this company. That makes me responsible for them. I won’t abandon them only to save my own skin.”
“You know,” said Cyn, “one of these days, you’re going to make a good ruler.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m only the son of a baron. How in the Continent would I become a ruler?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
37
The Enemy Comes
Summer 1095 SR
* * *
Early the next morning, word came that the commanders were to assemble in town, in a place called 'The Royal'. Ludwig had never heard of it, but Hagan definitely knew the name.
“It’s a theatre,” he announced.
“I’ve never seen one before,” replied Ludwig.
“They’re used to present plays.”
“I’m fully aware of what they are. It’s only that Verfeld was far too small for such a venue.”
“Had you no cities nearby?”
“One, Malburg, but it had no theatre either.”
“A pity,” said Hagan. “They’re quite the sight.”
“Oh? Why's that?”
“The rooms are remarkably large, one might even say grandiose. I wonder what Rosalyn might make of it?”
“You should invite her,” said Ludwig.
“I can’t take her to one of the duke’s briefings. What would people say?”
“No, I meant to see a play.”
“Oh, yes,” said Hagan. “Of course.”
They turned up the street to see their destination.
“We’re here,” the young lord declared. “What do you think?”
Ludwig gazed at the structure, easily the largest building on the block, yet it looked old as if the wood and bricks had sat there for centuries.
“It's impressive," he said. "Have you been inside?”
“Not this one, but I’ve seen similar.”
Carriages were there, unloading their passengers, while others milled about the establishment's front doors, crowding the entrance, which surprised Ludwig.
“How many are here?” he asked.
“I imagine all the barons and their captains. That alone accounts for
dozens.”
“Sergeants too, if that one over there is any indication.”
“Let’s get inside, shall we?” said Hagan. “I’d hate to have to stand.”
They pushed their way through the crowd to find an interior with wooden benches lined up in front of a raised stage. A couple of barons sat waiting, surrounded by their bodyguards and captains.
“There’s my father,” said Hagan. “Shall we sit with him?”
Ludwig grimaced, eliciting a chuckle from Lord Hagan. “Do we have to?” asked Ludwig.
“We’ll take these seats here instead, shall we?”
“By all means.” They both sat, but Ludwig’s eyes were roaming the room. “This place is amazing. What are those seats up there?”
“Those are balconies,” said Hagan, “used mainly by the elite. That’s where we’d normally sit if this was a regular play.”
The doors opened, and the rest of the crowd from outside began streaming in.
“I’m guessing the duke has arrived,” said Ludwig. “I assume we’ll be starting shortly.”
They sat in silence, waiting as the barons began taking their seats. Once situated, their captains began the same process, then the many sergeants who were also present. Everyone’s eyes were on the stage when Lord Deiter Heinrich, Duke of Erlingen, made his appearance.
The room fell silent as he walked across the stage, his boots echoing on the wooden floor. He paused when he reached the centre, and then the whole room stood and bowed.
“Be seated,” said the duke. He waited for the shuffle of feet to end and then began pacing back and forth, formulating his speech.
“Our numbers have swelled,” he began, “thanks to the arrival of the barons of Hutfeld and Lieswel. I’m pleased to announce we now have close to three thousand warriors under the banner of Erlingen.
Some in the audience began clapping, while others cheered. The duke let them have their moment, then cleared his throat, causing everyone to fall silent once more.
“As you all know, we have been under the threat of invasion this last month. I am afraid it is with no pleasure that I inform you we received word a short time ago that the army of Andover has now crossed the border.”
“Have they taken Lieswel?” someone called out.
“Yes, Lieswel has fallen despite our attempts to hold on to it. Lord Killian was forced to retreat here, to Chermingen in the face of overwhelming odds.”
Warrior Knight Page 38