Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights)

by J. K. Swift

  Gildas looked up the road.

  “I tell you this to spare you. Not because of some fatherly need to protect a daughter.” He turned back and Thomas tried to avoid the man’s fierce blue eyes, but they were a current that he could not fight against.

  “Seraina is much more than a daughter to this world,” Gildas said. His eyes softened to reveal a sadness that had perhaps always been present, but hidden. “Your priests tell us women are sin. My own people view them differently. We say woman is life.”

  “Then what do you say of men?” Thomas asked.

  Gildas smiled. “Man is the servant of life. Fitting is it not?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I do not understand what you are trying to…,”

  Thomas blinked, and caught a sense of motion from the top of the hill. At the same time, Gildas too seemed to register a change of some sort, for he turned and looked up the road.

  Seraina rounded the corner in the road and was coming toward them at an all-out sprint. She slipped as she started down the hill, but without slowing down, she reached out one hand, pushed off the ground to regain her balance, and continued running. The sight of her reddish-brown hair, streaming behind her as she ran, had a much different effect on Thomas now than it did earlier. It filled him with dread.

  He reached to his belt for his knife, but it came away empty. He looked to his horse, but realized its back was bare, save for Ruedi’s crossbow wrapped in a sheepskin blanket. The quality weapon was worth a small fortune, but now, with no bolts, it was worse than worthless. But even if he had a quarrel, Thomas knew he would be unable to cock the weapon without the assistance of a belt hook. The heavy draw weight of the string would sever his fingers before he could pull it even half way.

  “A sword,” he said, looking at Gildas. “I need a weapon.” Gildas stepped away from him and shook his head. Thomas’s eyes locked onto the walking stick Gildas held. It was crooked and worn smooth from a lifetime of use, but being made from hard, solid oak, it was heavy enough. He reached out and tore it from the old man’s grasp before he could protest.

  Seraina was there much sooner than Thomas thought possible. She walked the last few paces with her hands on her hips to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and the sides of her hair wet with sweat. One unruly strand curled over a cheek and fluttered with every exhalation.

  “Habsburg soldiers,” she said. “And I think they saw me. Quickly! We must take to the trees.”

  Gildas put his arm on her shoulder. “It is too late for that now.” He nodded toward the road. Two riders, the sun glinting off their helmets, trotted toward them. They seemed to be in no rush, but they were obviously focused on the three travelers standing directly in their path.

  “We must run,” Seraina said.

  “We cannot.” Gildas nodded toward Thomas. “He is in no shape to flee. I doubt he could even get back onto his horse in time.”

  “He is right,” Thomas said. “You and Gildas go. I will be fine. They will not know who I am.”

  Seraina’s voice rose to a frantic pitch. “Are you mad? Of course they will know who you are. You killed the Duke’s soldiers and stole one of his horses!”

  Thomas looked at his mount. The Habsburg brand jumped out at him. Cringing, he pulled the bundle holding Ruedi’s crossbow forward so it covered the mark. By the time he turned around, he was greeted by the pattering of hooves on hard earth. He tightened his grip on the walking stick.

  “You there. What cause do you have to run from your Duke’s patrol?”

  Gildas stepped forward. “Please forgive my daughter, my lords. She is mute and scares easily. She mistook you for highwaymen and rushed back to warn us.”

  The riders pulled up before them. The one that spoke was much younger than the other, and the way he barked out his words, made Thomas think he was eager to impress the veteran he rode with.

  “Show me your trade pass,” the younger man said.

  “Trade papers, my lord?” Gildas said.

  “This road is closed to all but those certified by the Trade Commissioner.”

  “Since when?” Thomas asked. “I have not heard of these roads being off limits to locals.” He regretted speaking almost immediately. Not because the younger man turned on him instantly, but more so because he felt the older soldier also take an interest in him.

  “Do you expect to know all that transpires in the Commissioner’s office?” the young soldier said. “Are we to knock on every hovel’s door and deliver each command of his lordship personally? Who are you, man, to speak so out of place?”

  “He is my daughter’s husband, my lord,” Gildas said, shooting a scowl at Thomas. “He is a miserable man at the best of times, and often speaks out of turn to make up for his wife’s eternal silence.”

  To emphasize the old druid’s story, Seraina punched Thomas in the shoulder and flashed her teeth at him.

  “Well, if he speaks again without my leave, I will have his tongue at my belt. That should make the conversations at their dinner table more balanced.”

  He chuckled at his own threat, and Thomas forced his eyes to look at the ground. The older soldier nudged his horse forward and slowly began circling around to the rear of Thomas’s own mount.

  The young man continued questioning Gildas. “If you have no trade papers, then you did not pass the checkpoint. How did you get on this road?”

  “Not far from here, there is a trail in the woods that leads to our farm,” Gildas said, his words seemed especially slow to Thomas, and as he spoke he stepped toward the young man, holding his hands low and out to the side. “This path meanders between lichen-coated rocks, and under trees draped in giant-beard. The sun appears, now and then, and when it does, its rays warm your skin, and if you listen carefully, very carefully, the sound of running water hums in the background…”

  Gildas continued speaking and if Thomas had been standing closer to the old man he doubted he would have been able to focus on anything but his words. But, with effort, he shook off the sound of Gildas’s voice. He took hold of his horse’s halter, then angled himself toward the other soldier walking his horse behind them.

  “A word of caution, my lord,” Thomas said. “This horse likes to kick out at others that come too close from the rear.”

  The soldier drew his sword. “I shall have to be careful, then,” he said. “What do you carry under this blanket?”

  Seraina stiffened beside Thomas. He could tell it was all she could do to hold back her words.

  “Firewood,” Thomas said.

  “Firewood,” the soldier repeated, like it was some exotic foreign word.

  “And a few onions,” Thomas said.

  The soldier nodded. And then thrust his sword point between the blanket and the rope securing the bundle in place. The rope sprang away, the horse skittered sideways a step, and the load slid off and crashed to the ground.

  Ruedi’s Genoese-made war bow flipped out from its concealment and skidded to a stop at Thomas’s feet. The veteran’s eyes picked up on the horse’s Habsburg brand in the same instant.

  He raised his sword, and then screamed in pain.

  Seraina was on his other side. She had thrust her hand behind his knee and had a hold of something, a ligament or tendon, or God only knew what, but whatever it was, the soldier’s face was pale with agony. He dropped his sword and leaned in his saddle to get away from her. Thomas shuffled over and obliged him. He grabbed his arm and yanked him from his horse. Thomas grimaced as his stitches stretched to their limit, but held.

  Thomas heard the ring of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. He looked over his shoulder as the young soldier, seemingly no longer under Gildas’s trance, kicked the old man to the ground.

  Seraina screamed the druid’s name and rushed to help him. Thomas gripped the walking stick in his hands and brought it down on the head of the soldier lying at his feet. He hit him again for good measure, then turned to help Gildas and Seraina.

  But he knew he was too
far away.

  As Seraina ran at the two of them, the young soldier, with a wild look in his eyes, hefted his sword high above his head. Gildas, having pushed himself up to his hands and knees, looked up as the sword began its downward arc toward his neck.

  Then Thomas saw fear twist the ears of the soldier’s horse. Its eyes went wide, and before it could bolt, its master was carried clean out its saddle by a blowing cloud of white fur.

  Oppid’s momentum carried him and the soldier twenty feet away from the terror-stricken horse. The white wolf had his massive jaws wrapped over top the soldier’s helmet, so he lived long enough to know he was in a nightmare. The man screamed as Oppid stood over him, snarling, his yellow teeth dripping streams of thick saliva. Then the wolf snapped him up by the throat, lifted him off the ground, and shook the soldier back and forth like he was nothing more than an old dusty blanket. The cracks of his neck and spine splintering made Thomas look away.

  The older soldier let out a groan, so Thomas hit him again with the walking stick. Then he retrieved the soldier’s sword and turned back to finish the man, but Seraina stepped in front and put her hand on Thomas’s chest.

  “Thomas, no,” she said.

  “He will bring others,” Thomas said. “They said there was a checkpoint near here.”

  “We have two more horses, now. We will be in Schwyz before they can send others,” Gildas said.

  Thomas watched Oppid drag the broken corpse of the other soldier into the woods. “God have mercy. Is he going to do what I think he is?”

  “At times, nature may appear cruel,” Gildas said. “But look at it through Oppid’s eyes. True cruelty lay in letting a perfectly good set of entrails rot in the sun.” The old man’s eyes sparkled. “Come, Thomas Schwyzer. Let us be on our way, and leave an old wolf his privacy. For, as those of your faith are fond of saying, it is God’s Will.”

  As they came over the last series of low, velvety green slopes, and Schwyz lay at the head of the valley below, Gildas slowed his horse and began to stammer excuses for not going any further.

  “Why not come in with us?” Seraina asked. “Sutter has a warm, comfortable inn with even a few private rooms, and the best chamois stew—”.

  Gildas shook his head and the downy white hair of his beard and head floated in the breeze. “No. It is time for me and Oppid to be on our way.”

  He slid off his horse, stroked her neck once, and whispered something in her ear that sent her trotting off back the way they had come. Thomas and Seraina also dismounted and, after Thomas removed Ruedi’s war bow, they too sent their mounts away. They would not risk any harm coming to Sutter by bringing the Duke’s horses into his stable.

  Gildas whistled and Oppid loped out of the woods, turning his massive head warily from side to side as he crossed the open grassland between them.

  “Luck is not one of my beliefs. But, I will wish it to you all the same, Thomas Schwyzer.” The old man held out his arm and Thomas took it.

  “How long will you be gone?” Seraina asked. Her voice was small and Thomas could hear the fear of abandonment in her words.

  Gildas shrugged. Oppid was at his side now, and the old man absently grabbed and released great handfuls of the wolf’s white coat. “As long as it takes. The others are scattered and will be difficult to find. But I will. And when the time is right, you must meet us on the Mythen.”

  Seraina nodded once, and then dropped her chin. The old man looked at her and his face softened.

  “I will be back, my child. Remember, I too have no small touch of the sight, and that much I have seen.”

  He reached out and lifted her head. She looked up and her eyes shimmered. A tear broke free and crawled down one cheek. The sight of her in pain made Thomas avert his gaze.

  “Ah, Seraina. Your eyes remind me so much of the waters we lived on when you were a child. Do you remember our lake?”

  “Yes… I think so,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “But only bits and pieces. I was so young.”

  “And so full of questions for one just learning to speak. Why, why, why! How, how, how! It could have been the most peaceful place in the world, if not for your endless nattering.”

  Seraina smiled. “I do remember. I was happy there,” she said.

  “You were, and so was I. Happier than at any other moment in my long years. And when I look at you now, it gladdens me to see that green lake reflected so clearly in your eyes. Somehow, you have preserved the same wonder and innocence as back then, but like those waters, I see the strength of steel as well. There has never been a prouder man, than the one that stands across from you now.”

  Seraina hugged him and buried her face against his white robe. Her shoulders shuddered and he kissed the top of her head. After some time, he eased her to arm’s length.

  “Come, now. You will upset the wolf. It is best you say your goodbyes.”

  Seraina wiped once more at her eyes and nodded. She called the wolf by name, then dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, her fingers not even close to touching. She forced a laugh and whispered strange words into his ear.

  Thomas became aware that the old man had locked his eyes on him. All traces of the kindness that had been in them only moments before was gone.

  “Look after her,” Gildas said. “As she has done for you. And remember what we discussed.”

  “It was not much of a discussion, as I recall,” Thomas said.

  Seraina stared after Gildas and Oppid for a long while after they disappeared into the forest. Finally, she and Thomas began walking down the slope toward the village.

  “I do not understand why Gildas refused to stay at Sutter’s for even one night,” Thomas said. “Surely a comfortable bed and a hot meal would do the old man some good. Is he in that much of a hurry?”

  Seraina held out one hand and dragged it through the waist-high grass. It was late afternoon and Thomas was beginning to feel the autumn chill through his cloak, but Seraina did not seem to notice.

  “Gildas does not like to be around people much. Even the smallest village unnerves him,” Seraina said.

  “He cares about you, though. How did you come to be raised by him?”

  “He bought me,” Seraina said.

  “Bought you? Such as at a slave market?”

  “You are one to talk,” she said. “It was not like that. I was only a baby when Gildas found me. My parents were very poor and already had five children, so Gildas convinced them to give me up.”

  “Why did he choose you over one of the others?”

  Seraina smiled. “Because I was special. Can you not see that?” Her spirits seemed to be improving.

  Thomas shrugged. “He may have been able to get two, or even three, of the other children for the same price as one special one.”

  Seraina slapped him on the arm. Thankfully, it was his uninjured one.

  “We are a pair, you and me,” Seraina said. “Each sold to the highest bidder. I wonder what our lives would be like if that had not happened…”

  That was a question Thomas had never once asked himself. He remembered almost nothing about his life before the Long March to the port of Genoa, where he and the other Schwyzer children were loaded onto a ship bound for the Holy Lands.

  Sometimes, late at night, he would catch a glimpse of a tall man cutting wood, or a woman with sandy hair, standing in a black earth garden and wiping her brow with the back of her arm. But they were fleeting images, just as likely to be based on dreams as reality.

  Perhaps the only true memory he could claim of those early years, was that of a shivering boy trying to spread a small blanket over the half-frozen bodies of his dead parents. Since that was what he usually saw whenever he attempted to remember his parents, he eventually stopped trying altogether.

  “My parents died when I was very young,” Thomas said. He was not sure why he had said that.

  “I know,” Seraina said.

  When he looked at her with confusion o
n his face, she added, ”You talked out loud, and often, when you were stricken with the blood fever.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “In fact, I think you talked more when you were at death’s feet than you do now.”

  “Perhaps my silent nature is the reason the Hospitallers paid more for me than Gildas did for you,” Thomas said. He found himself smiling, and if the scar on the left side of his face tightened, he did not notice.

  “Oh, ho! The fox bares his teeth,” Seraina said. “Speaking of Gildas, what was it that you and he discussed when I was gone?” If anyone looked like a fox at that moment, it was Seraina.

  Thomas shook his head and tried to keep his eyes locked on the thatched roof of Sutter’s house in the distance.

  “Was it about me?” Seraina asked, innocently. But her grin and the tilt of her head told Thomas she knew that it was.

  ***

  Seraina saw Sutter cutting wood behind the inn as she and Thomas approached across a field. He straightened up when he saw them coming and, after shielding his eyes from the sun to get a better look, shouted something toward the kitchen window. Within seconds, both Vreni and her daughter Mera ran out the back door.

  Seraina left Thomas behind and ran to meet the two women with tearful embraces all the way around. By then Sutter was there, and even the gruff innkeeper wrapped his long arms around Seraina.

  Mera had her crying under control by the time Thomas limped up, but one look at him and her pretty features began to waver. She ran at Thomas, as though it were a race to get to him before her tears exploded, and threw her arms around his neck. She got her head on his chest just in time.

  Seraina looked on as Thomas held his arms out to the side for an uncomfortable moment, but then in small jerky movements, managed to put them around the girl and comfort her as best he could.

  “I am so sorry Thomas,” Mera said. “None of us deserved to have Pirmin taken from us, but you least of all.”

  Thomas said nothing, but Seraina was sure she saw his arms squeeze the girl a little tighter.