They would meet in the middle of a field, really little more than a grassy patch, though there was, they were told, a small stream that managed to meander its way through the clearing.
Sigwulf doubted it would make much difference, but Ludwig wasn’t so sure. Even a minor obstacle could play havoc with plans. Not that there had been a lot of planning. He suspected the entire exercise was simply to let the Grim Defenders release some of their pent-up energy.
Captain Ecke gave a shout, gathering everyone’s attention. Drawing his sword, he held it aloft, waiting as all eyes were trained on him. Moments later, he swept it down, indicating the battle should commence.
Across the way, Baldric gave a yell, and his men surged forward. There was no organization to it, only a wild pack of raving warriors rushing into the fray.
Sigwulf gave the order, and his group began an orderly advance. They were shield to shield, taking small steps to keep their line intact. Each warrior gripped their weapon of choice, ready to strike should the opportunity present itself.
The distance closed far too quickly to Ludwig’s mind. He was just getting used to their steady cadence when the first of Baldric’s warriors hit them. A large brute named Kerwain smashed into Cyn, knocking her back with the force of his assault.
Sigwulf was quick to react, turning with a fury and driving his huge club into the man's back. Kerwain’s padded jacket helped to absorb part of the strike, but the warrior still called out in pain and collapsed.
“Stay down,” ordered Sigwulf. He continued his advance, Cyn rushing back into place. Ludwig looked to his front in time to see Quentin and Emile bearing down on him. Each was armed with a great sword, and it was clear they were aiming for him. He raised his shield higher as they approached, then struck low with his sword, smashing into a pair of legs.
Emile went down, but Quentin redoubled his efforts, bringing his sword down onto Ludwig’s shield with a clash that sent a shock up the young knight's arm. Ludwig countered by kicking out, his boot impacting the man's shin. The twin’s leg gave out, sending him tumbling to the ground beside his brother.
Sigwulf, meanwhile, had three men on him. The first swung his sword directly at Sigwulf's head, and as the mighty warrior retaliated, the other two rushed forward, seizing his arms and holding on tightly. Sigwulf struggled with the two clinging to his arms but finally went down beneath their combined weight.
Cyn took on one of them, using her mace to smash the man three times in quick succession. Her foe cried out on the third and released his grip, allowing Sigwulf to struggle to his feet.
Ludwig saw an opportunity and struck, delivering a blow that rang off an enemy helmet. The next thing he felt was a solid hit to his own stomach, knocking the wind from him. He had fallen to his knees, gasping for air, when a shadow loomed over him.
Baldric drove his knee into Ludwig’s face, a hit that would have broken his nose had his helmet not been in place. As it was, Ludwig’s head snapped back, and for a moment, he lost sight of his foe. Another blow struck him, this time in the chest, and he staggered back, shaking his head to clear his vision. He cursed the narrow view of his helmet and swore never to wear it again, then a kick to his knee knocked him prone.
Baldric moved closer, delivering a violent stomp to his head. Ludwig’s ears rang, and he rolled onto his back, staring up at his attacker. The sergeant drew back for another kick, and Ludwig struck out with his sword's hilt, connecting with his attacker’s groin.
Baldric hunched over, letting out a high-pitched scream. The pause gave Ludwig enough time to scramble backwards and then move into a crouch to deliver a kick to the man's stomach. Baldric toppled backwards, landing with a thud, and there he lay, clutching himself.
Ludwig turned to rejoin his line, but with their leader's defeat, the opposing force began to flee. He felt Sigwulf’s hand slap his back in congratulations, but Baldric, having torn off his helmet, stared at Ludwig with pure malice in his eyes.
Cyn, ecstatic and bouncing around in glee at their victory, jumped into Sigwulf’s arms, and the big man blushed profusely.
“Well done,” called out the captain. “You all did magnificently. Now, let’s go and celebrate, shall we? I have a keg of ale with your names on it.”
A cheer erupted from both sides, and they all began flooding back towards the camp. Ludwig kept an eye on Baldric. As the man was helped to his feet, he whispered to Quentin and Emile, but Ludwig couldn't hear anything from his position. One thing that was clear, however, was the look of hatred Baldric sent his way.
* * *
It was well into the night before people started drifting off to their tents. Ludwig had drunk more than his fair share and was feeling the effects as he stumbled back to his own modest home. A figure unexpectedly appeared in front of him, causing him to halt to avoid running into the fellow. Ludwig squinted, trying to identify the fool in the dim light, but as he leaned forward for a better look, a fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw. Thrown off-balance by the assault, he fell to the ground. Almost immediately, a boot took him in the side.
“That’ll teach you,” came the voice of Baldric.
Someone else snorted, and then another boot struck Ludwig's arm, this time from the right. He scrambled to his hands and knees, desperately trying to stand upright, but a leg tripped him, sending him back to the ground. Baldric towered over him, soon joined by the faces of Quentin and Emile. They were all grinning, and then the boots started stomping him.
Ludwig rolled up into a ball, determined to avoid serious injury, but the blows didn't stop. Another boot struck his head, and blood trickled down from his forehead, but he refused to give in. With a glimpse of someone at his side, he launched himself into whoever it was, gouging at their eyes in a last-ditch effort to save himself from almost certain death.
His foe stepped back, and then men were pulling him away.
“What’s going on here?” bellowed the voice of Captain Ecke.
“This man here, Ludwig, assaulted Sergeant Baldric,” accused Quentin.
Ludwig tried to speak out, but between the beating and the drink, he could barely take it all in.
“It’s true,” added Emile. “I saw it myself.”
“What about you, Sergeant?” asked Ecke.
Baldric was wiping blood from his face. “Yes, Captain. Ludwig attacked me as we passed. He was in a blind fury. It must have been the drink.”
The captain leaned in close to Ludwig’s face. “What have you to say for yourself, man?”
Ludwig spat out blood but said nothing. The witnesses had already condemned him.
“This is bad, Ludwig,” continued the captain. “Baldric is a sergeant, and this is a serious breach of discipline. I have no choice but to impose punishment. When you joined this company, you agreed to its rules. Will you now subject yourself to our discipline, or will you leave the Grim Defenders, never to show your face again?”
“This is my home now,” spat out Ludwig. “I shall face whatever punishment you deem necessary.”
“Then you leave me with no options,” said Ecke. He turned to his men. “To the pillory with him. Let him remain there until noon tomorrow.”
They dragged Ludwig off, his head still spinning from his ordeal. He silently thanked the Saints for the ale, for without its dulling effect, the pain would have been excruciating. His side ached, and he wondered if they had broken his ribs, but there was no way to tell, for they pinned his arms to his side.
Others followed as he was taken through the camp, and he soon found himself before a wooden pole. Attached to this was a cross plank with holes for his neck and wrists. They pushed him down into an uncomfortable crouch and placed his head and arms within while a similar plank was laid above him and then secured in place, preventing him from moving.
Captain Ecke stood before him, staring down at Ludwig. “You have brought this on yourself,” he announced, then turned to face the crowd. “Let this be a lesson to you all. Behaviour of this sort s
hall be dealt with swiftly and firmly. Now get to your beds, all of you!”
The men disbursed while Ecke looked at Ludwig one more time, shaking his head, then turned, disappearing from view.
The night wore on, and Ludwig ached all over. The blood on his forehead had run into his eyes, making it difficult to see. It would have been bearable had the pillory been at a suitable height, but crouched as he was, he could neither stand nor sit, leaving him in the most uncomfortable of positions.
He lost track of time. A dim light permeated the sky, signalling dawn’s approach, and still, he hunched over, his legs quivering with the effort.
Someone appeared before him, and he squinted through a swollen eye to see Emile. The man held a stone, tossing it from one hand to the other as he stared at Ludwig. Evidently, he had made up his mind and stepped back, readying for a throw, but a massive hand yanked him from view.
Ludwig heard some sounds but couldn’t raise his head enough to see what was happening. Things went quiet, and then the figure reappeared. He took a breath, trying to anticipate the hurled stone, but then a hand touched his face with a damp cloth to wipe away the blood.
“Ludwig? Can you hear me?” Cyn’s voice was hushed, no doubt because of the proximity of the captain's tent.
Ludwig tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. He nodded instead.
“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Here, let me help.” She scooped the dried blood from his eye, then wiped off the rest of his face. Her hand moved to the side, and someone handed her a bowl. She lifted it to his mouth. “Here, drink. It’s water.”
He lapped up the water like a dog, unable to turn his head.
“We heard you attacked Baldric,” she said. “Is that true?”
“They ambushed me,” Ludwig managed to squeak out. “There were three of them.”
“Let me guess,” came Sigwulf’s voice. “Quentin and Emile were with him?”
“They were.”
“I’ll kill them,” the big man promised.
“No,” said Cyn, “not now, at least. We must bide our time, get them when they least expect it.”
“But they must pay for this,” Sigwulf objected.
“They will, but we’ll pick them off one by one, destroying Baldric's power before we deal with him ourselves.”
“No!” said Ludwig. “This is my battle. I’ll deal with it.”
“Baldric and his cronies attacked one of my men,” swore Sigwulf. “That makes it my business.”
“Yes,” added Cyn, “and if it’s Siggy’s business, then it’s mine too!”
* * *
The morning wore on. Others wandered by, but the sight of Sigwulf standing guard kept them at a distance. Ludwig felt as though every muscle in his body was on fire. He tried to sit, but the pillory wouldn’t let him. He tried stretching a leg, but it unbalanced him, making things even more painful. All he could do was hang on and pray this torment would come to an end.
Captain Ecke finally arrived. He looked at Ludwig, then at Sigwulf and Cyn, who stood watch. “Release him,” he commanded.
Cyn removed the latch and lifted the top bar while Sigwulf moved around the back. Ludwig, now free of the punishment, felt his legs give way. Sigwulf lifted him, carrying him two-handed.
Ludwig tried to take in what was happening but struggled to understand. Sigwulf stared at the captain, though to what end he couldn’t say. Ecke finally turned and walked off, then Cyn led them back towards their tents.
* * *
Cyn lifted his shirt, examining the wounds beneath and grimacing. “That looks bad.”
“You’ve taken quite a beating,” added Sigwulf. “It’ll take you some time to recover. You say there were three of them?”
“Yes,” said Ludwig, gritting his teeth as Cyn pushed on each rib.
“Nothing looks to be broken,” she said. “You’re lucky.”
“Lucky? It sure doesn’t feel like it. I can hardly move?”
“I’m afraid you're going to have to.”
“Why?”
“We’re setting off for Mulsingen tomorrow.”
“He’s in no shape to march,” said Sigwulf. “We may have to leave him behind.”
“No,” said Ludwig. “I’ll manage somehow.”
“I’ll go into Torburg,” offered Cyn, “and hopefully, I can pick up some numbleaf.”
“It’s worth a try,” said Sigwulf, “but do we have the coins?”
Cyn shrugged. “What if we can find Brother Vernan?”
“He’s probably left by now,” said Ludwig.
“Maybe,” she agreed, “but we could at least mention his name?”
“I suppose,” agreed Sigwulf. “In the meantime, you’d best rest, my friend. Your body needs to heal.”
“Certainly,” said Ludwig, “but do you suppose you can convince Cyn to stop prodding me first?”
10
The March
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
The next day, Ludwig had expected to march at first light, but it took far longer than that to take down the camp. Halfway through the morning, the Grim Defenders still weren’t ready, and Captain Ecke looked as though he was going to throw a fit.
Finally, just before noon, the first mercenaries began the trek eastward, clearing the city of Torburg as the bells tolled midday. The captain had reckoned the distance to Mulsingen to be no more than a week away, but if today was to be any measure of their progress, it could easily take twice that long.
Ludwig struggled. His muscles ached, covered as he was in bruises, and although the numbleaf helped, it soon became apparent his own footwear was not up to the task of a prolonged march. As a noble, he had been used to riding anywhere he went, resulting in expensive but comfortable boots to help keep his feet warm. Now that he was on foot, like the others, he began to realize a more firm-footed sole would have been far superior.
“Come on,” urged Sigwulf, “we’ve miles to go yet.”
“Yes,” agreed Cyn, cheerful as ever, “and this is a slow pace compared to what the Crossed Swords used to do.”
Ludwig grimaced. “You call this slow? My feet are killing me.”
“Try some more numbleaf,” she urged, “but keep an eye on your feet.”
“Why, will they drop off?”
“No, but blisters can form and with the numbleaf in you, you’d never know.”
“Blisters don’t scare me,” said Ludwig.
“Nor me, but if they burst and you keep going, you could turn your feet into a bloody mess, then they’d have to amputate. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to keep my own feet intact, thank you very much.”
Ludwig laughed, but even that small action sent him into a spasm of pain. Sigwulf and Cyn both looked at him in alarm. Seeing their reaction, he dipped into his belt pouch, pulling forth a small, pale-green leaf. He popped in into his mouth and bit into it, releasing the taste of mint. Almost immediately, he felt the aches and pains wash away, and his speed noticeably improved.
“That’s better,” said Sigwulf.
“How long does this stuff last?” Ludwig asked.
“It varies by individual,” said Cyn, “but they say the more you use it, the heavier the dose that’s required.”
“Which means?”
“You’ll probably need to take some more by mid-afternoon.”
“I can deal with that,” said Ludwig. He looked around. They were passing farmland now, and the fieldworkers were out, sowing their crops. It made him think of Verfeld, and he suddenly felt homesick.
“You all right?” asked Sigwulf.
Ludwig coughed to cover up his emotional state. “I’m fine,” he answered, although his voice was hoarse. “This place kind of reminds me of back home.”
“You lived in farm country?”
“Is there any other type?”
“Yes,” said Sigwulf, “you might be from one of the major cities.”
“Not me. I’ve never
set foot in a city.”
“Not true,” said Cyn. “You’ve been to Torburg.”
Ludwig smiled. “So I have. And now you mention it, I have been to Malburg, so I suppose that counts as a city, or at least a large town.”
“There, you see? You’re more widely travelled than you thought.”
“So I am. Though in those days, I spent more time on a horse.”
“You should thank us,” said Sigwulf.
“For what?”
The big man smiled. “This march will toughen you up. Before you know it, you’ll be as big as me.”
Ludwig couldn’t help but laugh. Sigwulf was the largest man he’d ever seen, but inside he had a soft heart, likely due to Cyn’s influence.
“How long to Mulsingen?” asked Cyn.
Now it was Ludwig’s turn to impress. “Eighty miles or so, the captain indicated. That should be about a week's march, shouldn’t it?”
“Not at this pace,” said Sigwulf. “We’ll be lucky if we make five miles today.”
“Five miles? Is that all?”
“What can I say? The company has been idle for the last month. There’s also a lot of new recruits who haven’t been hardened to the march. You should be thankful. In your condition, you’re lucky to make even this slow pace.”
“It’s not my fault I was beaten black and blue.”
“Isn’t it?” said Cyn. “I warned you about Baldric, yet you insisted on humiliating him in the battle.”
“I had to. He was coming after me.”
“True," said Sigwulf, "but did you have to go for the groin? That unsettles a man.”
Ludwig sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked over his shoulder, wondering how far back his nemesis was.
“Don’t worry,” said Cyn, “he’s bringing up the rear. I heard the captain issuing the orders. I doubt we’ll see him again until we make camp.”
“And when will that be?” asked Ludwig.
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