The Rift

by H Schmidt

  Sir Rupert continued to press the scout – who had a look of pique at Sir Rupert’s reaction – then he turned to the other knights. “Why would they leave? Manfred, bring me my horse. Sir Siggie, come with me. We need to assemble the commanders. We must decide what this means for tomorrow. Sir Gustav,” he was smiling at me, “if you can forget Elsbet for the moment, come with me.” I began to blush. What does he know? Nothing. He is just behaving as he always does.

  I rushed to the stables to grab the bridle of my already-saddled gray and hurried behind Rupert, who was already leaving the courtyard. As I reached the ground beyond the drawbridge, I sprung into the saddle and followed at a full gallop. We were riding amid the foot soldiers, their anxious eyes following us as we rode to the command tent.

  Count Von Pappen was not happy with the news. “What you say is interesting, Sir Rupert, but it will change nothing. They will attack in the morning, and we will meet them at the river.”

  Sir Rupert stood before the commander. “Count, we must find out if they intend to cross the river at more than one point, and stop them before they can cross. With Wladyslawa’s numbers, we cannot stop them once they are on our side.”

  The count smiled at Sir Rupert, looking around at the other commanders, anxious to share the coup de grace with them. “Sir Rupert, Wladyslawa can only cross his army where they are assembled now. We will keep the battle plan as is. Do I make myself clear?”

  I stood with Sir Rupert outside the tent. I looked at his face, which told me nothing. He smiled at me. “Perhaps the count is right. Perhaps there is trouble in the east and Wladyslawa was forced to divide his army.” He put his arm around me then turned and mounted, beckoning me to follow him.

  The sun was only a span from the horizon, as the camp had slowed its earlier frantic pace, and the routine before battle began to settle the bodies and spirits of the assembled warriors. Things were quieter now. We moved among the foot soldiers and the bowmen, trying, with all the knights to lift their spirits, to assure them that God was with them, to show them that the great Knights of the Order would protect them in battle. I saw many familiar faces. Some smiled. Some turned away. Some of the foot soldiers looked sullenly into my eyes. They had heard the news of the size of Wladyslawa’s army, and knew, from previous battles with them, that they were fierce and brave.

  An altar had been placed in the center of the field. Companies of men, with their commanders, assembled one at a time, received Communion, and were blessed by the priests. As each group received their blessings, they passed before the great tables assembled on the meadow and were fed from the lord’s larder. To the peasants who served as foot soldiers, the repast before battle was like no other they received. Venison, rabbit, pheasant, and wild boar, denied to them under risk of death by the Order, were now made available in great abundance. Wine held only for the Knights of the Order now was granted in ample portions to the thirsty peasants. After tomorrow, I could not help but think, there will be many a distraught wife and abandoned child, for the foot soldiers will take the brunt of the enemy’s pikes, arrows, and swords. This is always true. While we write and tell great stories of knights slain in battle, it is the peasants who must bear the greatest misery in battle.

  But I could not help but think how meekly they are led to their slaughter. It is only different from sheep in that the sheep go to their deaths less knowingly, more sublimely than do these poor creatures. Even now, as I watch them, they laugh as they are intoxicated by the rich foods and wine, forgetting their fate on the morrow. But perhaps, the choice between the slow death of a peasant, with the sometimes quick one of battle isn’t a choice, at all. And at the moment, they have the castle’s good wine. I smiled at myself for thinking such thoughts. They are, after all, peasants.

  The battle plan is set. The color is leaving the sky; the air is damp, foretelling rain. The men are grouped by their companies, most lying upon the ground seeking the solace of sleep, some etched by the light of their campfires. The night is cool. I stand with Rupert, silent as he is, taking in the lights and silhouettes which will be transformed into a living force tomorrow. Tonight, I will sleep under the open sky. Tomorrow...

  But tomorrow was not long in coming. I found myself sitting up, the sound of trumpets jolting me awake. I was on my feet moving to find my hat and belt with the dagger and rations hanging from it. Tethered to the rear of my company, my mount, already saddled by Manfred, and the great destrier, my warhorse Donner, had begun to prance as the sounds in the camp increased. My armor had been loaded into the baggage wagons which would follow each company toward the Vistula.

  Even the faint lightness of dawn was absent from the sky. Tiny drops of rain were falling. The pounding of hooves began to quicken the flow of blood in my veins and bring me fully awake. I could hear Sir Rupert’s voice, its timbre changed with the coming of battle.

  “Alpha Company, move to the front. The count and his commanders will follow.”

  As he announced the order, commands were passed down within each company. Each company on this day would have thirty knights, one hundred bowmen and two hundred fifty foot soldiers. There would be six companies, named for simplicity by the first six letters of the alphabet. Because they were part of the permanent garrison, the two hundred crossbowmen would be divided equally among the companies.

  As the companies assembled in their order of march, wagons of food and water were carried to each company, and the men were fed quickly. I wondered how long we had slept. It could only have been five or six hours, because we needed to be at the river before dawn. The count and the commander knights had counted on the enemy not to cross before dawn if they crossed at all. Among the commanders, Rupert was most concerned that the retreat meant the Order would be forced to divide its army because Wladyslawa was dividing his. Rupert knew that the effect would be much greater on the smaller army than a large one. Sigismund and others had argued that such a tactic would act as an advantage to the Order, because it would allow their army to concentrate on each smaller unit, and defeat them separately.

  The rain had begun to fall more quickly as the trumpets began to blare and the Alpha Company began to move. Before the army, outriders selected from the archers rode ahead and to all sides and the rear, alert to movement of enemy bands sent to harass the army or to enemy scouts watching the movement of the Order’s army. The army was silent, the mood of the men made more somber by the dripping clouds, and the steady dampening of their clothing. The crossbowmen and the knights wore their mail hauberks, which extended to their knees. Most of the foot soldiers wore only hard leather tunics and hard leather hats, although some had been equipped by their owners with metal helmets, some even with nose guards. Although most of my armor was now attached to my great mount, Donner, I carried my great sword and my light shield on the mount I now rode in the event we were attacked on the march.

  ---

  I don’t know why I awoke. A clap of thunder. A dream. Some other noise. Or my beating heart, which cried out for Gustav. I pulled on my chemise, slippers and mantle and left the living quarters. I climbed to the parapet, passing surprised sentries as I did. I moved to the south wall and looked across the meadows. Campfires still glowed, and torches as far as the eye could see, leading south. Among the brave knights, the two men I loved so deeply. The pain I felt made it hard to breathe.

  The rain fell softly, and in the surprising silence of the march, I could hear it patter on the walkway. I stood and watched the torches move south until at last they were swallowed by the mist. In the east, the horizon had the touch of dawn still hours away. As I turned to walk down the stairs, I was surprised that dozens of people now stood on the walkway, looking south. All silent, looking into the mists, oblivious to the rains that were heavier now. I would spend the rest of the morning in the chapel.

  ----

  The dawn came with little warning this summer day. The clouds were dark and heavy now, rolling off the sea. The rains that had fallen softly now began to
fall more heavily, pelting my back. Gone was the first discomfort of being wet. In its place, the soggy misery of being soaked to the marrow of my bones. The lightening sky increased the visibility, and we knew within minutes we would be seeing the river. The plan of attack would be a frontal thrust with the bowmen setting up a line as close to the river as possible. They would hold the line until threatened to be overrun. They would continue to fall back until the enemy’s flanks were vulnerable, at which time a frontal attack by foot soldiers led by mounted knights and flanking attacks on both flanks by mounted knights would occur. Two full companies would be held in reserve to fill any threatened breaches in the line or to break through weakened points in Wladyslawa’s line.

  Sir Friederich would lead the attack of the right flank of Wlayslawa’s army, and Sir Rupert the left. I rode beside Rupert, who seemed in surprisingly good spirits, his mood changed from the evening before.

  “So, young knight, have you asked for the hand of the fair Lady Elsbet? Perhaps now would be a good time. The count could not but give his blessing on the eve of battle.”

  “Do you not think he would be preoccupied with Wladyslawa’s army and find my request ill-timed?”

  I found Sir Rupert looking at me with that great, toothless smile. His grin almost touched the edges of his hauberk hood.

  “Perhaps.”

  Thinking of the absurdity of the situation in which death waited nearby, where the count, under the best of circumstances, seemed nonplussed under pressure, and imagining going up to him at a time like this to ask for his daughter’s hand, I could not control my laughter.

  “You are an absurd old man, Sir Rupert.”

  The count, Sir Rupert, Sir Friederich, and I stood on the hill where yesterday we had observed the enemy. We waited for the dawn, still almost an hour away. We had sent scouts to east and west to determine if the enemy was elsewhere. Straight ahead, the archers had moved forward, taking their positions on solid ground fifty meters from the shoreline. In front of them, a strip of land not thirty meters wide where the ground was solid up to the edge of the river. On both sides of that point cattails and marsh grass extended more than fifty meters from the river to solid ground. If the army was to cross, it would be here.

  Four companies of archers, each one hundred strong and three rows deep, faced the river. Armed with long bows and crossbows, the archers were each capable of firing three missiles a minute. A single company could unleash three hundred arrows and bolts a minute, capable of piercing armor at a hundred meters. Behind each company, two carts loaded with arrows and bolts. One hundred runners shuttled among the companies, to replace quivers and recover weapons from those who fell.

  Two hundred meters to the rear, foot soldiers stood waiting. With the over a thousand men who stood using their pole arms for support, fifty knights stood beside their great horses, dispersed across the line so that each knight could lead twenty foot soldiers into battle. Two hundred meters behind this line, over five hundred men and twenty knights stood waiting, ready to fill the line if it weakened.

  To the east of the reserves stood over sixty knights beside their warhorses. Sir Friederich would command this force. To the west, Sir Rupert would lead his knights at the left flank of the enemy.

  Behind the clouds, night turned to day. But with the daylight, the rain had begun to fall so heavily that men on the north shore could not see those on the south. Visibility for the waiting archers reached no more than one hundred meters into the river. They waited...

  As Rupert prepared to mount to join his cavalry unit, a lone rider galloped into the small pine grove where the count and his commanders stood.

  “They are crossing the river three kilometers west. They are unloading horses, their armor coats on. Knights were on the barges. It was hard to know how many will land there. I could not see across the river.”

  Rupert approached his commander, Count von Pappen.

  “We should pull back, Count. If we do not, they will get in behind us, and trap us here. If we move now, we may be able to catch them before their full force has landed.”

  I could see the sweat flowing from beneath the hood which Elsbet’s father wore. I watched the count’s eyes dart among his field commanders, looking for some signal of what to do. Only Friederich, who nodded at the choice proposed by Rupert, offered him that signal. Knowing most of the commanders had rejected Rupert’s concerns last evening, Von Pappen faced Rupert.

  “We are prepared here. We will fight here. If we move away from our defenses, we lose an opportunity to destroy a large part of Wladyslawa’s army. Take your positions. They should cross soon.”

  Risking punishment for questioning a commander’s decision, Rupert tried one more time. “Commander, we do not even know if the enemy is still across the river.”

  The remark stunned Von Pappen; his face, for a fleeting moment, turned ashen. He seemed to recover himself. Now, the battle was not with the Poles and Lithuanians, it was with Sir Rupert. Sir Rupert had always troubled the count. His assurance, his successes in individual battles and as a leader of men, made him an adversary in the count’s mind. He could not back down, now. He spoke once more, his voice hard.

  “Sir Rupert, take your position now or I will ask you to step down.”

  I watched Sir Rupert then. He must have known what was at stake, and I knew he was capable with one swift stroke of his sword of dethroning the count, in the name of saving his land. But he did not. I am not sure why, to this day. That mischievous look returned to his face. I watched the fury rise in Von Pappen’s eyes, at that unspoken rebuke.

  Sir Rupert said simply, “As you command, Count. I have sworn to serve you and meant no disrespect.” I watched him bow and retire to his horse. I quickly followed him. As we mounted, we stood for a moment looking into the gray mist.

  “Even on days such as this, it is a beautiful land.” He spoke as he stood in his stirrups and looked down upon the men standing ready. Spurring his mount, we moved at a canter to the west where his knights waited. I followed, feeling melancholy.

  The trumpets sound to battle brought me back to the wet fields before the river. “They have spotted the enemy!!”

  Rupert turned to me. “Get word to Friederich. Use runners to keep us abreast of what is happening below. We cannot wait like blind men.” He turned to a young man, who rode a wiry little gelding. “Get down there and find out what is happening. I want you back here in ten minutes.” Wheeling his horse, he moved to the front of the knights. “Prepare for battle. This is what we were born for, Knights of the Teutons. May God be with us today.”

  I grabbed the gray I had ridden on the march and headed to our left flank where Friederich waited. Pulling up beside him, I shouted, “Rupert says to use runners to find out what is happening down there.”

  Friederich smiled. “Tell our military genius I have already done that.”

  I looked around. Friederich’s knights, their armor on, were mounted. Below us, we could hear the shouts and screams of battle. Through it, the piercing scream of a warhorse. I winced. A knight was down. As I started to wheel my horse, Friederich grasped my arm tightly.

  “Watch over him, Gustav. He cares too little for his life.”

  In full gallop, I returned to the west. As I rode through the foot soldiers, I looked down at the ashen faces, the knuckles white on their pole arms.

  I reined my horse before them and I shouted, “Do not let them pass. Think of your wives, your children, your mothers and fathers. Your duty is to them. God is with you, soldiers. Will you let them pass?!”

  The smell of blood had excited my mount, who reared in front of the men. I looked into the eyes of the men and waited for their answer. “No!!” they shouted in chorus. A resounding cheer went up as I rode to join Rupert.

  I rode up to Rupert. “Friederich has runners out. His men are preparing for the attack.”

  As I spoke, the rain had begun to slacken. The sky had lightened and we could see to the river. What I saw sent
chills through my body. I felt my heartbeat jump. In front of me, our archers were now one hundred meters from the shore. The attacking army had worked its way to within fifty meters of them. Using huge barges with mantlets to protect against the archers, they were unloading more than one hundred men at a time, storming ashore, most to be cut down by our archers. I could see piles of corpses along the shore.

  But with the men came mantlets which protected their own archers and soon several hundred men were standing on shore. From our arms wagons, shields were issued to our archers, who were beginning to fall at a steady pace. Sir Otto, second in command, had ordered the archers out of range, hoping to draw the army on shore farther away from the river. Now protected on both sides by marshes, our archers could not fire into their flanks.

  But the enemy army did not advance, and continued to build a protective shield around the men. Rupert and I watched for over an hour, when suddenly Rupert spurred his horse toward the command post. He called to me to follow. Reining his horse in front of Sir Otto and the count, he shouted.

  “They are not coming off that point. Look on the river. They have stopped the landings. Those clever bastards want us to stay here while their main army heads toward Tannenberg!!”

  For the second time in less than two hours, I witnessed the ashen face of the count. Now his commanders stood beside him, stunned, realizing now what Rupert had earlier concluded. The entire week had been one of great deception by Wladyslawa, and the Order, which prided itself on its superior generalship, had been deceived. Now, Tannenberg, with only a skeleton garrison, was in danger of being overrun.

  The Count shouted the order to his assembled commanders. “Turn the army at once. We must defend Tannenberg.”

  As one, Sir Otto, Sir Friederich, and the other commanders turned to Sir Rupert. They had seen enough. Sir Otto spoke for the group. “What shall we do, Rupert?”

  The Count started to speak, his face beet red, and his voice was but a whisper. He grabbed the limb of a juniper that had provided some protection from the rain. His hand missed, and I rushed to grab him before he fell.