Mercs & Magi

by Jamie Edmundson

  ‘Why?’ asked Mirko.

  ‘Because they demonstrate that she is not a virgin.’

  Mirko laughed. ‘So?’

  ‘Hush, Mirko,’ said Lothar, getting annoyed. ‘So, her family want these destroyed?’ he asked Alexander.

  Alexander nodded. ‘And their enemies want to get their hands on them before the wedding.’

  Lothar whistled.

  ‘What is it, Stiff?’ asked Emil.

  The simple boy was looking at him earnestly, not understanding the significance of what they had.

  ‘These,’ said Lothar, holding up the bunch of letters, ‘are the most valuable items I have ever held. They will decide who will be the power behind the throne for the next twenty years. If Lady Francoise gives the king children, she and her family will control the court. Many powerful men stand to lose or gain, should that happen.’

  Lothar thought about it, tapping the papers into the palm of his hand. Anke would have been offered a small fortune to get these letters. But who was she working for?

  ‘And where were you riding off to in such a hurry?’ he asked Alexander.

  ‘I had a meeting with an agent of the Bishop of Aplerbeck. He was going to pay me for the letters so that his master could stop the marriage.’

  ‘You would give the letters to the enemies of Lady Francoise?’

  ‘The enemies of her father! I want the marriage stopped, so I can have her back!’

  Mirko laughed again. ‘I think the young miss may have accustomed herself to the idea of becoming queen by now.’

  ‘We are in love!’ cried Alexander.

  Mirko snorted. ‘Women fall in love with whoever has the most money. She was happy with you until she saw she could land a bigger fish.’

  ‘Quiet, Mirko. Now, Alexander, listen. This second crew who have arrived are being paid by Lady Francoise’s father. If they get these letters they will destroy them, and the marriage will go ahead. But if you tell me about this bishop’s agent, I will take the letters to him, and you will get what you want. Do you understand?’

  Alexander looked at him, perhaps for the first time really looked at him. What does he see? Lothar wondered to himself. A man he can trust? Or a man so desperate he’s risking his life, and that of his crew, for a stack of foolish love letters.

  ‘Very well,’ said Alexander, in a resigned tone. ‘I’ll tell you where I had agreed to meet him.’

  Stiff!’

  Anke’s voice.

  Lothar peered outside, through a gap in the church wall.

  ‘Seven of them,’ he said.

  Anke’s crew stood in a fan shape in the road outside the church. Anke, hands on hips, in the middle. Not far from her Peter, his sword still scabbarded. Gerard, muscular and bearded, gripped a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. Hild, Anke’s tracker, held a light spear. Three other men, armed with spear or axe, whom Lothar didn’t recognise.

  ‘No archers,’ he added.

  ‘Emil could put two of them down before they could react,’ suggested Mirko, looking out. ‘That would even out the odds.’

  Lothar nodded and turned to Emil. ‘Find a location you like,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and talk to her one last time. Otherwise…’

  Emil nodded, serious faced.

  Lothar knew the young lad would do his best if it came to it. Moving slowly, as if he could delay the confrontation forever, Lothar opened the church doors and walked towards Anke’s crew.

  The wind swirled dust about them. Five of them held their weapons at the ready. They could chop him down in seconds if they chose to. Lothar didn’t make a habit of walking towards armed adversaries, but he made himself walk steadily, as if they were of no concern. Anke and Peter had yet to draw their weapons, which suggested they were not going to kill him. Yet.

  He stopped in front of Anke. She looked angry. He imagined her forgiving him, riding off with him to collect the bounty, renting a room together above an inn where they would schtup all night and day for a week.

  ‘My crew all want paying, Stiff,’ she said instead. ‘I’ve promised them. If they have to kill you to get paid, they will. Hand him over.’

  ‘Do you want the letters as well?’

  Peter started. Anke didn’t miss a beat.

  ‘So you’ve found out about the letters. It doesn’t change anything.’

  ‘It does, Anke. We can burn those letters. On a signal from me, or if your crew get threatening in any way, Mirko will burn them.’

  Anke sighed. A look of hatred briefly crossed her face. Lothar found that he didn’t mind so much. Hatred was better than derision.

  ‘And if you don’t hand those letters over, we’re going to cut you down.’

  ‘Indeed. No-one wins either way.’

  ‘What are you saying, Stiff? If you have a proposal, spit it out. I’ve already offered you money, and time is of the essence right now.’

  ‘We join up. For this job. We all get paid for the letters. From no-one wins to everyone wins.’

  Anke looked at him. ‘Alright. You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?’

  Lothar smiled. ‘I’m giving you the choice to get very rich. It just means I get rich too. There are more of you, so we keep the letters until the handover.’

  He held his hand out.

  ‘Anke!’ It was Hild.

  He kept his hand out. Anke was a woman of her word. One shake of hands and he would be rich.

  ‘Anke!’

  Anke turned to her tracker.

  Hild pointed back to the crossroads. ‘Riders!’

  They stared in stunned silence for a few moments as the shithole of a village filled with armed riders.

  ‘Forty?’ asked Peter.

  ‘At least,’ said Hild.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Whoever they are, it can’t be good,’ said Anke. ‘And we’ve left our horses up there. Thanks to you,’ she added, glaring at Lothar.

  ‘Hide in the church?’ he asked.

  ‘They’ve seen us already,’ said Hild.

  ‘You lot get in the church,’ said Anke, ‘so we can hide our numbers. Make it look like there are a lot of you.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ said Lothar.

  Anke shrugged. The rest of her crew turned to the building.

  ‘Do I shoot them, Stiff?’ came a voice.

  Anke looked at him. Lothar offered a hand. Wordlessly, Anke took it and they shook.

  He couldn’t see his archer but had no doubt he was ready to fire. ‘No Emil,’ he shouted, ‘there’s been a change of plan.’

  Half a dozen riders, armed with spears, trotted toward them, as Lothar watched and waited with Anke. It seemed ridiculous under the circumstances, but he liked that they were now working together.

  ‘So, who are you going to sell the letters to?’ he asked.

  ‘The highest bidder,’ she responded. ‘Who is likely to be the Bishop of Aplerbeck. He is desperate to stop the marriage.’

  An arrow flew from the roof of the church to land in the dirt a few feet in front of the riders. They pulled up. Lothar was close enough to see one of them rummaging in a saddlebag before they held up a white rag. Anke held up one arm and indicated that they should approach. They did, more cautiously than before.

  Lothar could see their chain mail armour was in good condition. They wore no identifying livery. Even if, as he suspected, they were some nobleman’s retinue, they would not advertise it when engaged in clandestine work such as this.

  The six men stopped a few feet from them, eyeing them up. They glanced over to the church. Emil had his bow trained on them from the rooftop. Gerard stood outside the door, which was open enough to reveal more armed men inside.

  ‘Am I speaking with your leaders?’ asked one of them finally.

  ‘You are,’ replied Anke.

  ‘I have an ultimatum for you from my lord, no negotiation. Deliver up the letters and we will leave you alive, along with your mounts. If you do not do so within one quarter o
f an hour he will order his soldiers to kill you all.’

  ‘Who is your lord?’

  The messenger turned to Lothar with a humourless smile. ‘You do not need to know that. You just need to know his offer. I was instructed to inform you of this only.’

  The rider pulled on his reins with one hand, turning his horse around.

  ‘And if we destroy the letters?’ Lothar called after him.

  The riders trotted their horses away, ignoring his question, but he saw them share a smile amongst themselves.

  ‘Hmm, I don’t think they mind if we destroy them,’ Lothar said.

  ‘Agreed. Which would mean they are working for the Count of Vechelde.’

  Lothar raised an eyebrow.

  ‘The father of Lady Francoise,’ Anke added, shaking her head at his ignorance.

  ‘Do you think they’ll attack?’

  ‘I think the Count of Vechelde would sacrifice a few of his soldiers to secure the marriage of his daughter to the king. So, yes, I’m pretty sure they mean what they say.’

  Lothar nodded. He wracked his brain, trying to think of a way out of the situation.

  ‘What’s more,’ Anke added, ‘I would think the Count of Vechelde would sleep well tonight if all of us, including Alexander, were dead. Then there would be no danger of stray letters from Lady Francoise reappearing in a few days’ time.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lothar had to agree. ‘Then we find ourselves in a pickle.’

  They entered the church. Mirko and Anke’s crew stood about them, eager for news. Alexander sat at his pew, looking forlornly about him as events began to pass him by.

  Lothar thought it best to let Anke explain the situation.

  ‘Could we make a fight of it?’ asked Mirko when she had laid out the facts.

  ‘We’re outnumbered four to one!’ said Peter, exasperated.

  Lothar looked at Anke’s crew. They weren’t in a fighting mood.

  ‘What if we give them half the letters and keep the other half?’ asked Mirko.

  Lothar smiled at his cunning. He was offering more than Anke’s so-called professionals.

  ‘That’s the problem,’ said Anke. ‘Once we hand over the letters, what’s to stop them killing us anyway? They’ll want to make sure that we haven’t cheated them.’

  Half her crew looked worried at that idea. Cowards, thought Lothar. They were used to making easy money with Anke. Weren’t used to risking anything.

  ‘The best option we have,’ he said, ‘is to negotiate with them. They’re not interested in negotiations now because they think we’ll just give them what they want. But if we make things difficult, start exacting a price in injured and dead soldiers and time, then they may decide that talking to us isn’t such a bad idea. Then they might decide to part with some coin, for example.’

  Everyone was looking at him intently. He knew he was right. Would they agree?

  ‘As Anke says,’ he continued, ‘handing over the letters means we give away the one bargaining chip we have.’

  Once Lothar had finished, the crew turned to Anke. She looked back at them, chewing on her lip. Eventually she sighed. ‘I agree with Stiff. Handing over the letters is a bad call. So, that means we have to defend this church. What are the threats?’

  ‘Fire,’ said Mirko. ‘The timber’s bone dry. If I were them I’d burn us out.’

  ‘And a good fire would deal with the letters,’ added Lothar.

  ‘There’s not much we can do about that,’ said Peter. ‘We don’t have any material to stop a fire.’

  ‘Tell Emil to target anyone with a fire brand,’ said Mirko.

  ‘If that’s their plan, they’ll wear full armour,’ said Anke. ‘Emil couldn’t stop them. We’d need to rush out and cut them down. Then we’d be out in the open.’

  Lothar shrugged. ‘So, if they burn the church we’re screwed. Anything else?’

  ‘What about him?’ asked Mirko, gesturing at Alexander.

  ‘Give me my sword,’ said the nobleman. ‘I don’t want Vechelde to get his hands on the letters any more than you.’

  ‘Not likely. They don’t want him, do they Stiff? They just want the letters?’

  Lothar considered it. An image of Alexander sprinting away came to mind, his knees pumping high as he disappeared into the distance. Not to mention they had his horse tied up outside the church. He didn’t want the young lord leaving on their one means of escape.

  ‘Tie him up and put him back there, out of the way,’ said Lothar, indicating the curtained-off area at the back of the church. They didn’t need any distractions.

  ‘Stiff? I said, they don’t want him, do they?’ repeated Mirko.

  ‘No, Mirko.’ Why did he have to repeat everything twice? ‘Like I said, put him back there, out of the way.’

  It wasn’t long before Count Vechelde’s soldiers returned, this time three dozen of them. They came on horseback, the clopping of the horses and the creaking of armour announcing their arrival. They stopped within a few feet of the church. Anke and Lothar were there to greet them.

  ‘Tell your master,’ said Anke, as soon as it was quiet enough to speak, ‘that we are not giving up the letters without fair compensation.’

  A rider pulled up his metal visor. It was the same man they had spoken with earlier.

  ‘Then our orders are to kill you,’ he said simply.

  ‘Then my soldiers will be given orders to kill you,’ she responded. ‘Leave now or face the consequences.’

  Lothar kept his hand near the hilt of his scabbarded sword, but the soldiers just watched as the two of them retreated to the door of the church, where they stood with Gerard and another one of Anke’s crew, both gripping spears heavy enough to bring down a horse.

  The enemy still didn’t move, talking amongst themselves.

  ‘Now,’ shouted Lothar.

  An arrow flew from the roof. Whereas before Emil had shot to intimidate, now he shot to hit his target. The missile struck one of the horses on the shoulder, causing it to rear up on its hind legs, its rider grabbing it around the neck to stay on. Riders began to move their mounts clear of the church, knocking into each other in their haste to put safe distance between their horses and Emil’s bow. The retreat, induced by one archer firing one arrow, was a mess. Without clear orders, the soldiers took it upon themselves to return to the village crossroads, leaving Anke and Lothar’s crews as the victors of the first engagement.

  ‘They were expecting us to just hand them over,’ said Anke.

  ‘Indeed. But now they know otherwise, I expect them to return forthwith.’

  ‘Let’s look,’ she suggested. ‘Stay here,’ she said to Gerard, before leaving the church to follow the path taken by the mounted soldiers.

  Lothar quickly caught up to her, and they walked on a few yards before crouching down by a house where they could get a good view of the proceedings. Most of the soldiers were dismounting, and Lothar heard orders being barked, no doubt readying the soldiers for an assault on the church.

  ‘What if we made a run for it now, before they notice?’ asked Anke.

  ‘We wouldn’t get very far before they caught up to us,’ replied Lothar.

  ‘What if we doubled back to get the horses?’

  Lothar thought about it. The soldiers would be coming to the church on foot. If they left the church, sneaked back to the crossroads, dispatched any guards and took a horse each, they could ride away before the main body of soldiers had realised what was happening.

  ‘Anke. That’s brilliant. That could work.’

  He grinned at her, and she returned his smile, a big genuine smile that he had never witnessed from her before. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. I could tell her I love her right now. But this is hardly the right time or place for that.

  ‘Right,’ she said, her voice full of determination, ‘let’s do it. You keep an eye on them here, I’ll go back and get everyone ready.’

  Lothar watched her go for a moment, then turned
back to the village crossroads. The horses had been gathered together and the dismounted soldiers had been organised into groups of about ten. They seemed ready to head back in his direction. If they were quick, Anke’s plan might still work.

  He heard shouting. He could see the soldiers turning to the north road, to his right, but at first, he couldn’t see what they were looking at, his view blocked by the village houses. Then he heard horses. And this time it wasn’t the sound of a single rider, or half a dozen, or even forty. He could hear a hundred horses pounding down the dirt road.

  The soldiers occupying the centre of the village seemed to panic. A group on horseback, perhaps the leaders, fled along the west road. The rest began to run over to where their horses were gathered, desperately clambering onto their mounts.

  Then the newcomers were on them. In a swirl of dust Lothar could see spear thrusts, hammers smashing down into armour. A few of Vechelde’s men escaped on horseback and were not pursued. A greater number were hacked to the ground. The rest surrendered, dropping weapons and falling to their knees. It was over in minutes.

  Lothar turned around. Anke was marshalling her crew outside the church. But the situation had changed. He left his position and ran over to them. Anke paused as he approached.

  ‘A new force,’ he said breathlessly. ‘About a hundred of them on horseback. Vechelde’s men are either dead, captured or escaped.’

  ‘A hundred?’ repeated Peter, stunned. ‘Who would send that many men here?’

  ‘Only a few possibilities,’ said Anke. ‘What do we do now?’ She looked at Lothar.

  ‘Find out who they are? Maybe it’s good news, maybe it’s someone who’ll buy the letters from us?’

  Anke made a face. ‘Men with a hundred soldiers at their back are generally not the best customers.’

  Hild pointed back to the centre of the village. Small groups of riders were already conducting a search, knocking on doors. A group of three were heading in their direction.

  ‘I’ll go and talk to them,’ Lothar offered. ‘Maybe we can negotiate a deal. The rest of you stay here and prepare for the worst.’