Godwin took the edict, bearing the imperial seal, and shaking his head commented:
"Impossible," the men of Terra were watching carefully, alarmed by the reaction of the Righteous.
"What does the edict say," Fulk asked, roughly.
Godwin unceremoniously replied:
"It is an authorization for the arrest of the King of the North, the King of the East and the King of the South for conspiracy against the Imperial Crown."
A frosty silence descended in the tavern. The only one who did not notice the change in their mood was the innkeeper. She was intent on chattering, spreading gossip and stories common in low-grade taverns.
One after another, the warriors of Terra threw a handful of coins on the table and left. Immediately ahead of Godwin and his armigers, Gotthard took leave, putting on his great helmet. As soon as the Lord of the South came out of the door, he found the knights of Terra arranged in a semicircle in front of him and the Prince of the North leaning against the front of the building. They were all waiting to see how events would evolve, weighing up for endless minutes what should be done. Only the heavy hammer of the north marked out the passing of time, tapping gently on the wooden trunks that make up the building.
"You owe us an explanation, Sire!" Fulk cried nervously, eager for a singular battle.
"I am the Lord of the South, I owe no explanation to anyone! If their Lords desire it ardently, the only solution is to go to the source and ask His Imperial Excellency, why first he gave a mandate to his Lords to perform certain tasks, and then commanded their arrest," the Righteous stated seriously.
"That doesn't make sense!" exclaimed nervous Lonn, grasping his sword but not pulling it out.
The bald healer with his large chain maces took a couple of steps forward and, without turning his back to the Sovereign, commented:
"The armiger speaks the truth. This parchment makes no sense. Why only in the domains of Varius? Why was nothing found in Terra? Yet this is the most serious news we have heard yet."
"After the Emperor and the Crown prince, the four Lords of the Cardinal Kingdom hold the highest positions. Such an edict would have required the gathering of all the Vassals of the Kingdom, but it seems that this news has been deliberately leaked, slithering like a snake among the thorns. I smell something rotten for my beloved North," Gotthard asserted, taking up a position next to King Godwin and looking into his eyes, he concluded: "I am with the Lord of the South."
"Soldiers, I cannot give you an answer at the moment, but if you follow me, we will discover together the meaning of these slimy plots, which hang over all of us. The only certainty I have is my intangible, but unshakable trust in King Holaf and King High, now engaged in the difficult interpretation of obscure and intricate omens," Godwin exhausted his convictions with these words, not being able to add anything else, he prepared for battle like everyone else, grasping his sword.
"These are only words written on parchment," Sigfred said turning his back to the Righteous: "And the imperial seal the can go to the devil, a good goldsmith could copy it for a few dinars! I am with the King of the South."
Godwin's words were sincere and avoided confrontation, but what he had said made the King and his companions understand the gravity of situation hanging over their heads. They left as quickly as they could, staying away from the villages and preferring to move at sunset, when the road appeared more uncertain, the shadows stronger and the enemies everywhere, but the darkness favoured them.
The troubles were very good hounds and always sniffing at the prey. It wasn’t long before the first troubles were upon them. The company was forced to turn north along secondary roads by a series of roadblocks. The roadblocks were set up by the knights of Varius, who flourished like weeds in the fields. Godwin did not want to go into the dense Tendard forest, which dominates the north of the Long Plain. Not being able to travel on the plain and not wanting to move into the forest, the eccentric idea of skirting Tendard's dark shadows emerged.
A small, narrow poorly maintained path occasionally appeared among the weeds of the forest marshes. There were long brambles and bushes at the foot of tall trees with dense crowns that could be heard creaking, rustling making a wide range of unattractive noises. Neither did the horses show any sign of appreciating the presence of the plants, behaving nervously and disobediently. In the minds of all the knights came the sharp annoying sensation of untrustworthy shadows, which kept moving and rolling among the twisted and tangled branches.
"What populates these green expanses, my King?" Lonn asked, worried about the continuous rustle of the greenery.
"I don't know! Certainly few survived to tell it, and of the few survivors even fewer were able to give lucid and credible accounts. The only common feature, found among delusions and evocative inventions, turned out to be a phrase reciting "Death comes from above," King Godwin satisfied the curiosity of his warrior, making him understand the reason for the reluctance he had in his heart, for the idea of crossing those borders.
After all, everyone knew the simple reality of the facts. Sooner or later a man from Varius would have spotted them, calling for reinforcements and leaving the Righteous and his companions only one extreme option to avoid a battle; they had to offer themselves to be swallowed up by the rustling green plants.
The inevitable happened. It arrived in the form of the hissing voice of arrows, shot by archers, giving notice of the battle to travellers who were very tired from the many hours in the saddle. First an arrow, then two and finally dozens of sharp darts swarmed around the Lord of the South. The rapid rustling was followed by deaf thuds that struck the trunks of the trees or in the bushes. The archers' aim was fortunately imprecise, and from a great distance.
"Let's try to avoid the engagement by galloping off. Maybe we'll succeed in leaving them behind," the Lord of the South ordered in a loud voice, spurring Balter.
The knights took off, exhausting the last of their energy, running towards the gentle valley in front of them. The tired horses couldn't keep up the rhythm for very long and they soon had white froth hanging from their mouths.
"My steed has exhausted all his ardour," warned Heinsius, quickly getting off the saddle and preparing for battle.
"What are you doing, knight," Fulk asked. "Get back in the saddle. Facing them alone, you will die!
"You are probably right, but death is not that bad!" Heinsius shouted, raising his sword to heaven as usual.
"We will have the advantage, if we arrive to the high ground and so dominate the field," was the order of King Godwin. Heinsius did not oppose him and climbed back into the saddle.
Everything was frustrated by the dark figures, marching on the horizon showing the multicoloured high flag of Varius. Their battle song reached the ears of the knights of Terra and those of King Godwin, now in the form of a distant rumble. The glittering sparkle of the pikes and shiny helmets was a clear sign of the unfriendly intentions of the newcomers.
"A charge is not possible, they have pikes and we are few," Fulk analysed immediately with regret.
"True, even the way back is precluded, we're surrounded," Melkior of the bald head pointed out.
"My Sire, we can slink into the green sea of Tendard, there we can increase our chances," implored Franz, not very convinced of the idea of sacrificing his life heroically.
"If my sight does not deceive me, there are more than a few. I can count at least twenty archers and I do not know how many foot soldiers there are in the front line just ahead of us," commented the old warrior with long experience of battle.
"Behind us, given the number of arrows, we have at least ten archers, but I don't know how many infantry. Our advantage lies in the certainty of seeing the archers no longer shooting at us. That means their men are running to meet us, waving their swords."
The arrows reappeared flying hard and falling on their heads, bouncing on the hard pressed ground mixed with stones.
"We’ll attack on foot, so the pikes will be of l
ittle use. All we need to do is move them with our shield and they will drop," Gotthard suggested, covering himself with his long almond shield, typical of the Nordic warriors.
"And so, we have no plan of action. We have only our good hearts and despair. Be aware of the row of pikes, when you move the spears of the first soldiers," was the advice given by the Righteous to his men. Godwin slipped on his helmet, unsheathed his sword and began to run, followed by the handful of brave people, shouting: "It is God’s Will!"
The men of Terra also gave the motto of their homeland to the wind, almost in unison, as if they were one man, the cry was loudly heard: "Death is not bad!" They rushed quickly towards the wall of curved lances, fierce and loud, sowing fear into the hearts of the opposing men. The traitorous enemies stopped on the highest point of the uphill road, enjoying the advantage and diminishing the already meagre chances of survival of the Righteous and his companions.
The two sides came into contact with a loud metallic crash. The shimmering second line did what Godwin predicted, trying to stab the assailants without success, except for slight scratches, while making the pikes useless. The metallic skirmish turned into a kind of game of thrusts and insults. The poles of the pikes were too long in the melee and were dropped heavily to the ground by the vanguard of Varius.
The Lord of the South slipped his sword between the colourful shields of his enemies and managed to stick it right past the collarbone at the base of the neck of an inattentive soldier from the second row who was concentrating on unsheathing his sword. The tip penetrated the pale flesh, stupidly left unprotected by the adversary. The blow was not deep, but enough to damage the trachea and make the blood flow copiously when the steel was withdrawn. The wounded man felt faint and fell to the damp ground, holding his throat in a vain effort to hold onto his life which was running out.
While the one on the earth was suffocating in his own blood, the soldiers in the front line, pushed back by Sigfred, stumbled upon his body. The enormous warrior of pushed ahead in anger, swearing and cursing like no one ever did in the presence of the Righteous, causing the collapse of enemy defences. The momentum of the adversary vanished, and vigorous blows were flung at all those who opposed King Godwin. The axe of the Woodcutter was neatly planted in a helmet, dyeing the face of a Varius warrior when it was released, delivering a second victim to the dust. The Lord of the South, without resistance or invitation, kicked the corpse and trampled on the remains, passing rapidly over the wall of shields, followed by strong Gotthard.
With the wall collapsed and the King crossing the line, the men of Varius were overwhelmed by panic. Among attempts to escape negated by the royal steel, there were those who, preserving some honour in their bowels, offered themselves for a duel. The hammer of Stahldorf made its way, having smashed skulls in much more arduous battles, certainly it was not a platoon of a few soldiers that could stop him. Melkior's whistling mace also had a taste of enemy blood, hitting the side of helmets so hard that its sharp spurs stuck the into the weak shiny steel, causing an icy grimace on the face of his enemy.
The colourful archers of the west, not being able to fire, ran swearing to join in the battle, unsheathing their swords. The knights of Godwin dampened their impetus, entrenching themselves behind a wall of shields, and then immediately after the group struck they stood up straight, pushing and piercing the weak chain mail. The archers could not do anything against the heavy weapons of the followers of the Righteous. Their helms, even though reinforced by ribs, were broken as if they were crusts of bread, revealing a soft purple centre.
The Lord of the South, without equal in fencing even with lowered guard, took care of the last able knight, who, showing himself capable in duelling, managed to repel the Great King. The traitor launched a beautiful series of assaults, carried out with skill, forcing the Righteous into a tactical retreat. Waiting for a mistake by the enemy for King Godwin was pure fun, even when an archer joined, doubling the danger and at the same time the chances of foul play.
Rustling in the air the southern blade turned, quickly drawing a precise quarter circle. The sharp steel made its way into the archer's cheek, smashing the light chain mail face protection. Slicing the cheek and smashing the teeth and jaw, the blade found a treacherous a new way to the bone of the neck. The Lord of the South took a great step and pushed the tip of his weapon angrily into the bowman's throat. There was only time for the enemy to close his eyes and fall. King Godwin, covered by his shield felt a powerful blow from his other aggressor and was forced back again to retreat. The Righteous who was struck a glancing blow, then pressed and struck with great anger by his screaming enemy. The soldier was more like a blacksmith intent on forging than a warrior. A random blow from soldier of Varius' sword slid over the side of his knee without causing damage to the Sovereign and allowing him to hit the enemy with his hilt. The soldier lost the impetus of his percussive action, enough for King Godwin to stand up again and breathe for a moment.
"Well, don't you see? You are the only one still alive," the Lord of the South pointed out to the knight, who was exhausted and breathing heavily.
The inhabitant of Varius looked around among the weeds, now red, wild and lush. The man noticed the blue lozenge and garnet jackets lying on the ground lifeless. He saw Fulk pierce the chest of an imploring archer with a dry blow of his sword. He observed the big Nordic warrior approaching quickly and threateningly. The arms of the soldier of Varius were too heavy and he was not able offer any opposition. The hand of the north grabbed him strongly by the throat, so that the sound of twisted plates and shattered bones of the trachea could be heard. The hissing breath became high and loud, and his blood flowed dense in the veins of his temples. Then the large hammer eclipsed the sun for a moment and fell, leading to oblivion.
"I must say in the north you are not all that charitable," Melkior commented.
"A sword stroke to the heart is certainly faster and less messy. It would have been enough," reprimanded Franz.
Gotthard, for his part, had never worried about criticism or annoying paternalism, let alone coming from the lips of warriors he considered inferior both in rank and strength. King Godwin had never criticised anyone. It would have been hypocritical on his part, because he himself had just killed perhaps in a less disruptive or striking way, but at the end of the day there was not much difference.
"Courage, my brave ones! Are you all well?" asked the exhausted but untouched Sovereign of the South.
"My King, I have an arrow in my shoulder," one of the warriors of Terra complained.
"The tip must be extracted immediately and the wound cauterized, to prevent blood poisoning, and the inevitable gangrene," Melkior explained walking quickly towards his horse, where he kept his operating instruments.
They lay the wounded soldier down. The mighty Sigfred held his legs, while Fulk held his body leaning with all his weight. Leather was placed in the injured knight’s mouth to avoid damage to his teeth. A tiny fire was lit to sterilize the ceramic instruments. Melkior chose some spoon-like instruments with angled handles and flat heads, found among the most common arrowhead shapes. He placed the dish in the flames, and when it began to glow he removed it. Once cold, one spoon was placed on each side of the arrow that had pierced the skin to spread the bleeding flesh and remove the foreign body. With a scraper Melkior scratched everything that seemed potentially dangerous from the bottom of the red hole. The operation was not painless. The wounded man was not helped by any anaesthetic and he fainted. The last step was to heat an iron similar to the first and start cauterizing the damage from the bottom of the wound.
The smell of burnt meat and a loud sizzling noise, generated by the extreme heat, made everyone shudder, including mighty Gotthard. The soldier woke up for a moment and then immediately collapsed, while the black smoke of the operation penetrated bitterly into their nostrils making it hard to breathe, persisting in the memory of all those present.
Franz and the old man had gone ahead a little to un
derstand how far away the rest of the enemy army was and partly to avoid hearing or seeing what could have happened to him. Strange strident noises came from the bare but tightly woven branches of Tendard. The creaking was followed by followed a continuous shaking of the bushes, as if caused by the passage of a large wild pig. The lookouts made a hurried return. On leaving they had behaved like two well-tried soldiers, but they returned pale and tense like a youth at his first battle.
"What disturbs you in such a way, my knights?" asked alarmed King Godwin caressing Balter who was tired and thirsty.
"Beyond the high ground, slowly marching towards our position, an entire army of Varius can be seen," Franz quickly reported with his face inappropriately terrified.
"An entire division," Gotthard exclaimed, almost satisfied with the thought of launching himself into such a glorious and impracticable undertaking.
"Around a thousand men on foot are followed by another three hundred on horseback, all directed here and I don't think they are friends," the old man answered concisely with a gloomy gaze, waiting for the King of the South to draw his own conclusions.
Godwin, faced with such disproportionate force, turned towards the forest and then towards the tiny track, which vanished on the horizon. The light of the day continued to fade, tingeing everything blue grey.
"The darkness could be our ally, concealing our bodies from the evil eyes of our enemies. However, the condition of our horses prohibits further riding, and we must consider the wounded who must be cared for. They also take swords away from our meagre strength," he briefly interrupted himself, watching the disturbed vegetation of the forest, and then said: "The only way available is inadvisable and is also the darkest, but between a certain death and a probable death a decision must be taken!"
"My King, we can bring hundreds down, break their morale and put them to flight," Gotthard madly proposed, laden with anger and a longing for glory.
TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Page 33