by J. K. Swift
Noll watched Thomas walk to stand outside his own square. He put Pirmin’s ax on the ground and drew his short sword and mace. Next to him, stood Sutter.
Semi-transparent tendrils of mist wrapped around Sutter’s ankles, as though rooting him to the damp ground. He stared defiantly at the approaching Austrians, with his ax held before him and his face grim. He looked more like some mythical warrior than a middle-aged innkeeper. The momentary illusion was shattered, however, by the old, patched, and mended vest that his wife had made him years ago. The same one that he had worn to serve Noll many a mug of ale over the years.
“Sutter!” Noll shouted.
“Sutter!”
The innkeeper turned around slowly, looking for the source of the call. He saw Noll waving and gave him a curt nod and a half smile, which was worth a full smile from any other man.
“I want to marry your daughter!”
Sutter’s eyes went wide and then narrowed in the space of a heartbeat. Noll was suddenly glad he was separated from Mera’s father by a score of armed men. He had not planned his words, but as soon as he said them he knew it was the perfect time, even as the men around him laughed.
“I mean when this is all over. And things have settled down a bit,” Noll said.
Sutter’s jaw clamped shut, and his eyes narrowed further.
He pointed at Noll. “Stay alive, boy. We will talk about this again.”
Noll grinned. “That most definitely did not sound like a ‘no’,” he said.
“Time to get your feet back on the ground, Noll,” Ruedi said, as the knights attacking broke into a charge. There were several flag bearers of Austrian noble families riding in the charge, but one in particular had caught Noll’s eye: the red fist of Berenger Von Landenberg.
He tightened his grip on his own ax, and pushed all thoughts of Sutter and Mera from his mind. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Thomas rotating his mace arm to loosen it up.
“Squares, front face!” Thomas shouted.
The men in the front lines dropped to one knee, wedged their ax handle against their front foot, and pointed the spear tip of their weapons toward the enemy. The next line squatted and also stepped on the hafts of their halberds but remained standing. The next couple of lines completed the deadly wall by holding the points of their weapons parallel to the ground and over their comrades’ heads. The men behind assumed a solid stance and placed one hand on the man in front of him to lend support, and to be ready to replace him when needed.
“Squares. Meet charge!”
This was no Sturmritter charge, Noll thought before the first horses hit them. Their front was not unified, and less than half of the knights attacking had lances. Most of them swung long swords that needed room to operate. And since the Schwyzer forces were so concentrated, the Austrians had to crowd together as they approached, cutting off a large number of the attackers. This forced them to slow down and follow behind the main force, waiting for their prey to run.
“Hold your ground!” Noll shouted as a horse penetrated three lines into the square before its rider was pulled from its back and hacked up by axes from the rear lines.
A swordsman slashed out and Noll saw Gruber recoil in pain, he dropped his ax and pressed his huge hand against his collar bone. Blood seeped between his fingers. Ruedi’s crossbow clicked, and the young knight pushing into the square was lifted out of his saddle with a leather-fletched shaft punched deep into his breast plate. He fell under the hooves of the other knights pressing their mounts forward, trying to find an opening in the wall of axes. As soon as Ruedi fired, he ducked into the protection of the back lines of the square to reload.
Gruber found his ax. He hefted it up, and using it with one hand began pulling knights off horses like they were low-hanging apples. Once on the ground, the cumbersome armor of the knights was no match for the penetrating ax heads and the men who wielded them.
Another click from Ruedi’s crossbow; another riderless horse crowding the front line. On the right, Noll caught glimpses of his other rover, Max. He seemed to be everywhere, with sword in hand, moving in and out of the square at will. Men, or horses, cried out every time Noll lost sight of him.
Noll had no idea how Thomas’s square fared. Every time he tried to look he was confronted by a new enemy. He could see nothing but horses and knights’ legs. He swung an overhead strike at a knight’s thigh. His ax hit just above the knee, and even though it was covered in chainmail, he felt the end of the large leg bone crumble under the blow. The knight screamed, and fell forward, but managed to hold onto his horse’s neck and break out of the throng around him. He went twenty feet before falling out of his saddle, and was promptly trampled by a riderless horse.
Within minutes, most of the horses immediately surrounding the square lacked riders. But the Austrians were so numerous, the horses could not escape. Terrorized, and many of them wounded, by the sharp spear points and the flashing ax heads, they stumbled around the outside of the square until they could force their way through the Austrians and gallop back to the main army.
Noll’s arms were heavy, but he was not winded when the man behind him tapped his shoulder to initiate a line change. Noll dropped back, and Gruber stepped forward.
What is he doing behind me? That is not our regular formation.
As Noll stepped back he had to lift his leg over a body. One of his men. And another. The square held, but almost half his men had fallen. That was why Gruber was behind him, he realized.
He put his hand on Gruber’s shoulder and rested his ax handle on the ground. He rolled his shoulder as best he could to relax the muscles. Gruber suddenly jumped. A long lance had been driven through his middle and stuck four feet out his lower back. Only Noll’s quick feet stopped him from being skewered as well.
Gruber began to fall backward, but the point of the shaft stuck against the ground and would not let him fall. The big man looked around weakly. Noll leapt forward to protect him and maintain the front line. As he looked up, he found himself staring right into Landenberg’s face.
The Vogt had a helmet with a metal snout, but his face mask was raised. Probably so he could breathe better, Noll thought. He pointed at Noll as he wheeled his mount around in a circle.
“I got myself a big one, eh Melchthal! And you will be next!”
Landenberg dug his heels into his horse’s flank and barged through the other Austrian knights. Noll saw him heading straight to a lightly armored man with Landenberg’s crest on his chest. He had three or four long lances, and held one out as the Vogt approached. Then, Noll had to focus back on the battle at hand. Someone had unhorsed an Austrian, and he rolled right in front of Noll like a sacrifice. He let the man push himself up to his hands and knees before beheading him. Then he stepped on his back while he used the hook on the back of his ax to help Sepp Rubin unhorse another.
Next to Sepp, working the front line with a borrowed ax in hand, was Ruedi. And next to him was Max. The rovers had taken up positions inside the square. The front line to be exact. This was not a good sign, Noll thought.
He risked a glance over his shoulder. There were only two rows of men behind him. Gruber was still standing, but the way his head and empty hands hung limp, Noll knew he could no longer count him.
The horses in front of Noll suddenly cleared, and for the briefest moment he thought the Austrians were retreating. But then, with his heart stuck in his throat, he realized that they had only pulled back to ready another charge. He saw Landenberg among them, lance in hand.
“Squares, form single! Seven men across, no rovers!” Thomas shouted.
The men pushed and jostled themselves into new positions. Noll found himself once again on the front line, touching shoulders with Thomas and Sutter.
“Square, forward full!”
Evidently Thomas too had had enough of defensive formations. Noll could not blame him. If they were going to die, they might as well die on the offensive. The men all seemed to agree, for the entire square ra
ced across the open ground with renewed strength and war cries so terrible Noll wondered who was making them.
Landenberg tested the weight of a lance before handing it back to his squire and then took another one. He glanced over his shoulder, to see what the loud noise coming from the Schwyzers was all about, and had just enough time to lower his visor before the first charging rank was on him. He dropped his lance and drew his sword. Next to him, he saw his squire dragged from the saddle and his throat cut.
With no regard for maintaining formation, Noll pushed himself to reach Landenberg, cutting down everything in his path. But Sutter beat him to the Vogt. The innkeeper hooked his chainmail and pulled him half out of the saddle. Landenberg cursed and swung at Sutter’s head, but he ducked and gave a final tug that pulled the Vogt down on top of him. The heavy man knocked the breath out of Sutter and he was slow to stand. As Landenberg stepped forward to thrust his sword into Sutter’s guts, Noll hit the Vogt with the shaft of his weapon from behind and knocked him off to the side.
Landenberg turned and flipped open his visor. He smiled and his eyes lit up with mad intent, but he was too out of breath to speak. He swung his sword with both hands in an overhead strike at Noll’s head. Still holding his halberd shaft before him, Noll lifted it and blocked the attack on the wood between his hands. Then he brought the bottom of the heavy pole across Landenberg’s face. Spitting blood, Landenberg reeled back, but Noll kept his momentum going and, stepping forward, spun his ax over his head and sunk it deep into the side of Landenberg’s head. His head bounced off his shoulder.
Noll shook as he looked down at Landenberg. His eyes, now as sightless as Noll’s father’s, stared up at the low clouds as the rain fell. It was hard to say what killed him first: the broken neck, or the heavy, flanged ax head lodged above his ear.
Noll felt rough hands on him.
“Noll, look!” Thomas said, facing him in the direction of the main army where at least five hundred more cavalry were readying to charge, and a long line of other knights were pushing their way up to the front through the ranks of infantry.
“No, there. On the slopes above.”
Noll looked to where he pointed. A treeless slope. But a slope that was alive and in motion.
A score of giant logs, some of them covered in oil and burning, bounced their way down picking up speed as they went. Leaving a trail of burning oil on the green mountainside, they smashed into the horses and men gathered at its base. The scene instantly turned from what was already a frenzy into a full-blown panic. Horses’ legs were swept out from under them and broken, some men were crushed, others burst into flames by simply being too close. Then, behind the logs and trees came rocks; large, jagged pieces taller than a man but round enough to roll faster than a horse can run.
Thomas stared at Noll, looking as surprised as Noll had ever seen him. “Did you…,” he began.
Noll shook his head. “That is not my doing.”
In the distance an alphorn sounded. Then another far, far away. Seconds later, more horns blared, but closer this time. Much closer.
Noll laughed and clapped Thomas on the back. “But those! Those are our doing!”
There was no longer any fighting around the men. The survivors of the Austrian cavalry that they had charged were racing back to the main army. Noll was not sure that was such a wise choice of destinations. For there were a great many screams coming from the main force as over a thousand horses tried to avoid the falling rocks and logs. Spooked, they threw their riders and trampled anyone in their path.
Thomas was watching the same turmoil.
“Now is the time,” Thomas said. “We have to turn them on themselves.” He placed cupped hands to his mouth. “Form up!”
“Form up!” Noll repeated.
“Square, face forward!” Thomas said.
They began to march toward the head of the largest army Noll had ever seen. Movement on the hillside caught his eye. A score of men were making their way down following the same route the logs had taken, shooting longbows and crossbows as they came.
No, not a score, Noll corrected himself. Twenty-seven men. Twenty-eight if you counted Erich. He grinned and could not help elbowing Thomas to make sure he saw them.
“Your outlaw friend has chosen a side, it seems,” Thomas said.
“I never said Erich was my friend,” Noll said. “But I must admit, I have never been so happy to see anyone.”
Horns blew again, but this time one after the other in quick succession.
“Stauffacher is in place,” Noll said.
Thomas nodded.
“Square, forward full!”
***
It was raining, yet Leopold’s world was in flames. He stared at the demons coming down the mountainside on paths of fire. The acrid stench of burning soldiers and horse flesh clogged his nostrils. An arrow flew past his ear, but he did not notice.
“The Schwyzers are charging us my lord,” Klaus said, drawing his sword. “We must move back into the ranks!”
Leopold’s eyes remained focused on the mountainside and he seemed not to have heard Klaus.
“My Lord! We must leave. Now.”
“What? No… that will not do… The men will think something is amiss,” Leopold said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than an arrow thudded into his horse’s flank. She took it stoically, with only a short whinny, but then the pain came and she bucked madly until Leopold was thrown from her back.
“Leo!”
Klaus jumped down from his mount, but kept the reins wrapped around his hand so the horse could not bolt in the confusion. Men and horses were everywhere, and everyone seemed to be trying to go in the same direction. However, the road was too narrow, and neither the impenetrable forest on the one side, nor the steep hill on the other offered any alternative.
Leopold sat up, but his vision was blurred and he felt nauseous. He blinked and a bald-headed man kicked him in the face.
“Are you who I think you are?” the man said, his words echoed but Leopold was surprised at how they were so clearly audible with the shouts and screams of all those around him.
The man scrunched up his ferret-shaped face and his small eyes doubled in size. “Well, blackball me to—”
His blood was suddenly airborne and sprayed over Leopold’s face, making the Duke squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them, the man’s body was on the ground; his neck cut half-way through from the rear.
Klaus reached down and grabbed Leopold by the scruff of his chainmail and hoisted him to his feet. Two more men brandishing swords appeared out of the fog. Klaus yanked Leopold behind him and pushed his horse’s reins into his hands.
“Get on that horse, my lord, now.”
Leopold heard the words but he could not move. He was not injured, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot. While Klaus fought for their lives, he found himself turning to look up the mountainside once again at the paths of fire. They were gone now, but they had been there only moments before. He was sure of it.
The demons had hid them, so none would know the truth. But I know….
Klaus ran one of the men through and jumped back to narrowly evade the other man’s slash.
“Get on that horse!” Klaus yelled.
What horse?
Leopold again felt a tug on his chainmail, but this one was quick and from behind. The next thing he knew he was across a saddle on his stomach.
“I have him,” Franco Roemer called out to Klaus. “Large groups of rebels are attacking all down the line!”
The mountains… they come from the mountains… and they are not rebels….
Klaus batted his opponent’s sword aside and split the man in half with a two-handed overhand stroke.
“Get him out of here, Captain. I will follow as best I can.”
Klaus managed to retrieve his horse’s reins that Leopold had dropped and swung himself up into the saddle. Franco did not wait. He kicked his horse into a gallop and they weaved in and out of the
press of men and animals crowding the road. Leopold thought his insides were going to explode, but as soon as they came to an open space, Franco stopped the horse and had Leopold sit behind him.
Klaus caught up with them. “Are you hurt, my lord?”
Is he talking to me?
“He seems fine,” Franco said. “A little shaken, perhaps. But we can worry about that after.”
On one particularly crowded section of road, fifty mounted knights struggled to regain control of their destriers in the midst of a group of infantry. War horses did not fight together with infantry, so any man not riding a horse, was an enemy in their minds. The snorting animals, trained to lash out with their hind legs, were kicking and trampling anyone that came too close and there seemed little their handlers could do to control them.
Franco tried to go to the left of the road, but there was a deep creek, and the ground around it was too soft. He opted instead for the sloped, but firmer, area to the right. They had to duck under tree branches and scramble along scree, but they were able to bypass the troubled section.
“Hold on, Duke,” Franco said as he made his horse jump over a large boulder, dripping and dark with moisture, to get back on the road. No sooner were they on level ground, surrounded by their own infantry, than a horn sounded.
Leopold jumped.
A split second later, on the slope above, hundreds of howling demons brandishing giant axes erupted from the mist-shrouded trees.
Leopold screamed and covered his eyes.
The Schwyzers attacked at several points along the Austrian line, almost half of which was still marching along the shores of Lake Aegeri. Their panicked cavalry proved useless in such cramped fighting conditions, and some say the horses killed as many Austrians as the Schwyzers did. But, if truth be told, it was the lake itself that was responsible for the deaths of more men than anything. Encumbered with their expensive armor, thousands of Austrian nobles died that day trying to fight in water, or flee through it.
