I turned around. “No weapons! Leave all weapons off the field.” I motioned and a few other men ran up to collect the various cutlery and such that men in this profession tended to carry.
The first set was a disaster with me conferring with Erik and the team captains to make rules and decisions often, but as the men fell into the idea, they began to have fun and the rest of the company on the sides cheered them on. Games weren’t unknown here, just uncommon as most were combat oriented with regular injuries.
“Well, this is working out well. Sergeant, take over and every day choose different team captains. Watch each for signs of leadership and try to keep the men happy and uninjured. As for me, I have paperwork to do so we can get paid. Oh, if you see Hans, send him to me.” Then I left the men to their sport. Boredom was always a problem with the military and a bunch of armed men with nothing to do always was trouble. Thus a big part of my time was used thinking of ways to keep my men occupied and trained. In Ireland, all the Tierna and Ri required our retainers to be literate and multi-linguistic. When the Danes and English invaded, the Irish could understand their plans but the invaders couldn’t understand the local Gaelic and that was an advantage. Also in a time when only clerics could do more than sign by mark, the Irish were able to read and write in any language they could speak. I enforced that here to my men’s dismay and the other Companies laughter. But once the men accepted that they’d be paid more for literacy and linguistics, they worked at that too.
Also, unlike the other Captains who paid every fortnight and didn’t see their men for three days afterwards when the money was gone and they sobered up, I paid my men smaller amounts every five days. Also, I deducted a small amount from each pay and used it to hire cooks and buy food. It was a navy idea that worked and though the men grumbled on pay-days, they also knew that they’d not be begging food the days before the next pay-day like the other soldiers. Felix and Olaf immediately saw the value of this and began to do the same but the other captains were too conservative and refused. Thus those men with intelligence transferred over to my or Felix’s company and those who were too stupid to follow, left for the others. So Olaf had three companies of fodder fit for naught but hacking and attracting attention, my Company of guerilla fighters and Felix’s Company of front line soldiers. It worked well, thus our present employment.
Once in my office, I saw Hans, pouring over my books as usual. He was a Jesuit priest but thought I didn’t know and so our ignoring the other’s religion made our relationship work. Hans ‘worked’ for me as I had a respect for books and that benefited him when I gave him the pick of any library I found. I allowed him this for the man was a scholar and had the ability to learn anything I asked. It was a strange affair but worked. “Hans, I understand that you heard of my altercation this morn?”
“I did my lord.” He was being careful with his words and tone.
“I understand that there are Witches here. I would know more of them, contact them if I could.”
“Yes, my lord. I shall do what I can. In the mean, here are the accounts. The bonus for saving that silk has been entered.”
“Thank you, Hans, you are a great value to me.” Then I sat to work on the accounts. He didn’t like witches or protestants or mohammadans or jews but he loved books and I played to his lust and trusted that desire to keep him safe. I was all too soon interrupted by a knock on the door. “Enter,” then Erik walked in and stood, relaxed. “All went well Captain. I think this is a good idea but it’s getting late so you should be getting home.”
Folding the books, I locked them away and stood, strapped on my sword and cloak and said, “You’re right. Sergeant, never be an officer, even the ones who can’t read or write still have paperwork to do.”
“Yes sir.” Though Erik would have agreed if I had said the streets were made of purple moss. You never knew what the German was thinking other than he was intensely loyal and a capable sergeant.
I handed him a slate and said, “Tomorrow’s duty roster. And please remind those on merchant duty to keep their purses inside their armor. I don’t want them abandoning their duty to chase down some cut-purse kid who couldn’t resist the temptation.”
“Yes sir.” Erik wasn’t literate yet but he could now recognize names and assignments if they were written clear and simple.
“Also, those Witches we ran into, keep your ears open please for any information on them. If there are Witches here, I’d like to meet with them.”
“Yes sir.” Erik never argued, never questioned and saw himself as my bodyguard ever since I had rescued him from that cell in Wurzburg. The man was big but not as big as he looked for he wore a byrnie of mail under his jacket to deflect the occasional knife thrust by a drunk or a mugger.
Once we reached my inn, Erik left and returned to his own lodgings near the wall. I would prefer to room near my men but my rank and position required other matters. Besides, some day I may just get lucky and the privacy of my rooms would be an advantage. In the meantime, I had a light supper and a glass of wine as my bathing water was being heated. Unlike the christians who saw bathing as evil, I wished I could have a real bathtub filled nightly but that was far too expensive so I contented myself with a weekly bath and a nightly sponge-bath in my room.
As always, I checked the room, windows and door then my private lock-box, then satisfied, set my sword by the bed, my dagger under my pillow, undressed and fell asleep instantly.
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AMAZONS AND WHORES
As usual, I woke early. Too many years in the military had destroyed my ability to sleep in so I groaned, washed in the basin, dressed and found my breakfast waiting for me in the common room. The Keep didn’t like staying up late and getting up early so we had come to a deal, the Inn would make my breakfast, cover it to keep away vermin and leave it out for me the night before. It was, of course, cold and any soldier will complain about the food but none will refuse to eat anything placed before him.
I washed again, then headed for the company, meeting Erik on the way, as usual. “Thank you Captain,” the man said as I handed him a trencher and some meat and cheese. Erik never ate breakfast and suffered long before lunch so I made a point of making certain he ate something.
“Anything new happen?” I asked.
“No sir. No one invaded, the city managed to avoid burning down, the peasants are revolting but didn’t revolt.” It was an old joke that made sense only in English which Erik didn’t speak but once I had explained it to the man, he had adopted it for his own.
People were already awake and working, the shops still closed but the farmers and merchants already preparing for the day. Arabel was a city of winding streets, narrow roads, poverty and wealth and I loved it. I made a habit of smiling and saying ‘good morning’ often and those we met bowed or curtseyed to me, partially because you are always polite to a man with a yard of steel hanging from his hip and partially because I found that being polite caused people to reply in kind. Erik was a peasant farmer turned soldier during one of the many Wars between the German States and respected me because I was a noble and because I was a good fighter but mainly because I was one of the few officers who really cared about his men.
The men were sleeping in, as usual. Goddess! If the Turks attacked, they should do it at sunrise when everyone was still asleep and hung-over. So I left Erik to get the Company up and working while I checked out my office and made certain that everything was ready for the day. Days and weeks were long and duty was hard but for those with no life and lots to forget, the mercenary military was perfect.
After an hour or so, I rose, stretched and went out to check on the men. Erik was running them through basic sword-play for the thousandth time. Well, it never hurt to redo the basics. People got sloppy over time. So I watched, then wandered among my men, those who were there, for about a dozen were on their day-off, another dozen watching the Merchants and another coup
le dozen on patrol. The half that remained were doing what Mercs did best, pretending to train. An occasional stern glance usually fixed that and what that didn’t, Erik did.
As usual there were people along the fence watching. Most were peasant kids thinking that being a soldier would get them off the farm. Yes it would but most would die early and I wanted to get back to the farm and never raise a sword again. A small commotion attracted my attention. The usual whores who were trolling for customers among the lonely soldiers were pushed aside by two women in arms and armor. The whores weren’t happy but unwilling to face a dagger so backed apart, complaining all the while.
I watched them watch us then ignored them as I focused on the training and during break, Erik approached, “Captain, more hopefuls.” He laughed this time. Erik had little hope for anyone that wasn’t German and let that attitude show.
“Well then, bring them in and we’ll try them out.”
“This is different Captain. These aren’t peasants but women. They call themselves Amazons from Russia.”
I laughed back, “Every woman who tires of married farm-life and steals a sword, calls herself an Amazon. But try them anyway. At the least, it will give us a laugh.”
I sat under the shade and watched as the two women entered and faced off against a couple of my men. Watching, I saw their swordplay was adequate and they worked well as a team, surrounding and one defending until the other could get a strike in. But their smaller size was a disadvantage. Finally Erik came over and said, “Decent with a sword but too small. One good blow will take them out and I’m not certain the men will like fighting with them. I say pay them a few coppers and send them away.”
“I’m smaller than you, Erik, and who always wins? Besides, Caesar respected Celtic women as fighters and in Indonesia, I learned to respect a Tahitian girl smaller then these. Let me talk to them please.”
They approached, arrogant and demanding. That would easily be beaten from them. And after a moment of staring, their armor had seen better days but had been made for them and not the usual patch-work from cast offs, I asked, “Why?”
They looked at each other then one said, “I am Hippolesia and this is my lover Penthelasilea.” The men laughed at that for most men thought a lesbian could be converted to heterosexual love if they were held down and raped often enough. To admit that here before a company of mercs and in a catholic city showed their confidence. Or their stupidity. “We are Amazons from Russia and wanted to see the world. We heard that you are more intelligent than the usual captain and thought we’d check to see if you are worth serving.”
The men were laughing aloud now and I casually ignored their fun. “And how do you plan to determine this, assuming that I choose to hire you? So far I’ve seen nothing impressive about you.”
One ran to fetch their horses while the other said, “Watch!” Then from a stand, they screamed, mounted and raced down the field firing arrows at posts at a range of easily a half-hundred yards and hitting them all the time. When they returned, I commented, “Impressive. This makes up for your lack of mass.”
“Captain, they’re women and the men…” Erik began.
“The men will do as you and I tell them. Besides, they seem able to outshoot and outride anyone we have. I like the idea of mobile cavalry that can pick off charging riders and break their ranks before they engage. Crecy, Sergeant. Near a hundred fifty years ago, the English with 7,000 archers faced 36,000 heavily armored French knights. By the time the French had crossed the 2,000 yards separating them from the English, The English had sent a half-million arrows into the French and killed 10,000 of them, breaking 16 French charges. Imagine doing that with a dozen people who can put an arrow through a visor at a hundred yards at full charge and repeat it every ten heartbeats.”
Then at the women, “You are hired! Sergeant Erik will show you to your room and give you the rules. Sergeant, they get a private room away from the rest of the men. If anyone causes trouble, bring them to me to settle. Don’t waste these on the line, use their abilities to our advantage.”
“Yes sir,” Erik admitted. He wasn’t convinced but would be as soon as they proved their value. I had a number of people who could ride and a number who could shoot, perhaps these girls could help me combine the two into one. I had seen a troop of Mongols on horseback circle a larger force of better armed and armored Turks and cut them to ribbons. The Mongols circled, charged, shot and retreated time and time again. They took losses but by the time the battle was over, maybe a dozen Mongols had died compared to hundreds of Turks. In war mobility often won battles.
Were these real Amazons? Probably not. Amazons were a myth but the Scythians and Sarmatians did train their women to be mounted soldiers. Lovers though? Did that mean they were lesbians who hated men or that they preferred women to the harshness of men? Well, the big problem would be keeping them from gang-rape. I had an idea.
“Sergeant, call the men together please.” They formed up, fifty or so in three lines, the women to the side. I motioned to them, “Ladies, join the ranks of you would.” The men closest sneered as they moved closer until I had my example. One had leaned over to whisper something, probably obscene, to Hippolesia who smacked him. The fight was stopped only by Erik wading in and using his mass to instill fear into the men.
“Sergeant, both offenders here please.”
Looking a the man, I asked, “Since you seem to like to talk while in formation when you should be listening to me, perhaps the rest of the men would like to see what is more important then my words.”
The man murmured and I cried, “Louder man. We cannot hear you. Yell exactly what you said to Erik, but we all want to hear it.”
The man was embarrassed but said, loud enough for all to hear, something obscene and anatomically impossible between two men. Erik stared at him, waiting. Erik had no fears of being called a gay-boy so took it well.
“Men, these are your new comrades. You will be eating with them, sleeping with them (I ignored the laughter) and fighting with them. NO ONE,” I yelled this part, “Will cause any trouble or they face me!” I then asked, “Your helmet if you would.” The man slowly handed it over, touching his neck for he had seen me behead a man once and feared having his own neck a bare target. “Scared?” The man nodded. “Good!”
Then I tossed the helmet into the air and as all eyes followed the steel, I kicked the man in his privates as hard as I could. Then I drew broadsword and hit the helmet before it struck the ground. I didn’t cut it in half as I wanted but the impact did render it useless for anything other than a paperweight. “Sergeant, when he stops vomiting, have him clean the entire field and take the cost of a new helmet from his wages. As for you, Amazon, these are your war-buddies. You need to learn to get along. You don’t have to take any abuse but I can’t have my men put out of commission so easily. A day’s pay fined for fighting. Any more incidents, report to the sergeant who will take care of it. If he doesn’t, I will!
“Now, men, you see that I am serious. There will be NO further incidents. Anyone who treats these two as anything other than a fellow soldier gets a dozen lashes. Rape is flogging to death after castration with all who knew and failed to interfere or report receiving a dozen lashes each.
“Now, you all saw them on the field. Any who want to join the new elite horse archer squad, let me know. Double pay for those who pass the test and are allowed to join. Dismissed.”
As they walked away, “Sergeant, I want the two women and the man I kicked with me on the afternoon patrol.”
***
What I wanted was trouble. Anyone can fight with a sword or axe from the ground and sometimes, bigger is better since in any army, be it English knights or Japanese Samurai, only about 5% of the army is really trained to be good. The remaining 95% are simply grunts who can barely hack-n-slash. In that style of fighting, women are at a disadvantage for despite the stories about women war
riors, once armed and armoured, there is little difference between a woman and a child and both are simply run over by a larger, stronger man. But once you remove the armor and lighten the swords, speed and agility come into play and the differences between men and women fade away. Fencing with a light Rapier or Small Sword is a great equalizer. In this case, I had no intention of putting the women on the front lines, preferring them to ride around the enemy shooting them in the back until they whittled away at the numbers until we could finish the job. The Huns almost destroyed Rome this way, the Mongols conquered China this way and the Turks were building an empire this way.
So I felt that if we ran into trouble, I could send the women around to flank and prove their value to the men in my Company. Once accepted as fellow soldiers, there’d be no more trouble. What I wanted was a Company of highly mobile light Cavalry.
It was late when we found some bandits. Kosovo was infested with bandits! The land had been flooded with the blood of Turk, Macedonian, Serb and Slav and with the almost constant warfare, it was natural for the homeless and the discharged soldier to turn to banditry. That’s why we were here, to repress the bandits and provide a show to keep the foreigners away.
In this case, it was a small caravan of Mohammadan’s seeking a new home that attracted the bandits who appeared to be Hungarian Slavs. None had horses and their weapons were whatever they had collected from whomever they had killed. So I sent my men at them at a slow trot, “Lance to the fore! Advance at a trot! Don’t tire the horses. If they run, we’ll chase, if they stand, we’ll run them down! Hippolesia & Penthelasilea to the right flank and cut their retreat!” The women rode off at a run, their smaller Mongol horses easily possessing the stamina for this work. I’d have to find shorter names for them for in the heat of battle, crying out these long Greek names would eat time.
Lyssandra & The Return of Lyssandra Page 2
