“Yes,” Ludwig agreed, “but they shouldn’t have to be.”
“A noble sentiment,” said Cyn. “I wish more thought as you do.”
“That might put us out of work,” warned Sigwulf.
“No,” said Ludwig, “on the contrary. You’d be hired to fight warriors, not burn the huts of farmers.”
The great man turned red. “I might remind you it wasn’t me who torched that farm.”
“True, and I don't blame you, my friend. I am merely considering how things might be… different.”
“He’s full of ideas, this one,” said Cyn. She turned to him, amusement in her eyes. “One more thing for you to change when you’re baron,” she remarked.
“Not me,” said Ludwig. “I’m content to be a mercenary.”
“Are you?” said Cyn. “Truly?”
13
Arrival
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
The village of Regnitz had been hastily abandoned as evidenced by the open doors and discarded tools. Captain Ecke marched the Grim Defenders right through the centre of town, while it soon became apparent Lord Gebhard's men intended on taking up residence.
As they cleared the village, Ludwig noticed a body hanging from a nearby tree. He had seen executions in his time, but it was clear this unfortunate soul had choked to death rather than suffering a broken neck.
Two of the baron's men mocked the body, prodding it with the ends of their spears, and Ludwig suddenly felt ashamed to be a soldier. For years, he had aspired to be a warrior and lead a life of adventure, but here, in this place, he felt nothing but shame for his chosen profession.
The company was led past the dangling body into the open field that faced the keep of Lord Wulfram. To the left of the road, Baldric’s half company had already begun marking out their tents while a small group began erecting the captain's pavilion.
Sigwulf led them just south so that the captain stood in the middle of the two halves of his command. Cyn and Ludwig began pacing off the camp while their sergeant conferred with the captain. Soon a fire was going, and soldiers gathered to cook their evening meals.
Cyn stirred the pot, then noticed her sergeant approaching. “Siggy, anything to report?”
The big man came closer to the fire, warming his hands. The air was turning chilly, the sky overcast, and it was beginning to look more and more like it might rain on the morrow.
“I imagine we’re going to be here a while.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“I have word Lord Gebhard wants to parley with his esteemed adversary. He's of the opinion the baron might give in to his demands.”
“What are his demands?” asked Ludwig.
“I have no idea,” replied Sigwulf. “Nor, I fear, does our captain. I’m beginning to wonder if the Baron of Mulsingen has any idea what he wants to do at all.”
“Come now, it can’t be as bad as that? Surely he wouldn’t have marched all the way here if he didn’t intend to follow through with the assault?”
“Oh, I believe he wanted very much to carry it through, only now he’s getting cold feet. There’s a big difference between threatening something and actually carrying it out.”
“Where does that leave us?” asked Ludwig.
“Well, for one thing, it means we’re not assaulting right away. The truth is, it’ll probably be several days before we see any action.”
“And in the meantime?”
“We’re to gather wood for assault ladders.”
“What about the moat?”
“Apparently," said Sigwulf, "our siege expert feels it’s not much of an obstacle—at least that’s what Ecke relayed.”
“I wonder if he’s met his Earth Mage yet?”
“If he did, it wasn’t brought up.”
“So when are we supposed to start cutting down trees?” asked Cyn.
“We’ll leave that for tomorrow,” said Sigwulf. “For now, we just rest and take it easy.”
“That’s it?” said Ludwig.
“Oh, we’re also not allowed to go into the village.”
“There’s not much left of the village,” said Cyn. “It’s been abandoned.”
“True, but the baron has claimed what’s left to house his men.”
Ludwig peered over towards the hanged man. “And that?”
“That remains. It’s meant to upset the defenders, convince them we mean business.”
“If we meant business, we’d already be attacking,” complained Cyn.
“Hey, now,” said Sigwulf. “I’m merely the message carrier. I didn’t make the rules.”
Ludwig smiled. “Did he say anything about going to look at the keep?”
“No, why? What have you got in mind?”
“I thought we might wander over there and see what it looks like. It might give us some idea of what we’re up against.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Cyn.
“Sounds reasonable,” grumbled Sigwulf, “but can we eat first?”
Cyn laughed. “Make it quick. We want to see the place before it gets too dark.”
* * *
Regnitz Keep consisted of a square tower, much like the keep in Mulsingen. It also had a curtain wall built around a bailey or inner courtyard, but there the resemblance ended. Whereas Lord Gebhard’s residence had a simple tower as a gatehouse, Regnitz had a properly fortified structure, complete with drawbridge and moat. The walls were also manned, each warrior keeping a constant vigil, lest the attackers begin their assault.
“How deep do you reckon the moat is?” asked Ludwig.
“Impossible to say,” said Sigwulf, “although it is wider to the east.”
“Yes, I’d noticed that. Do you suppose that makes it shallower?”
“I doubt it.”
“Look at that drawbridge,” said Cyn. “There’s no way we’re equipped to take on that place. What do you think, Siggy?”
“The plan is to employ ladders. That means we’ll be assaulting to the left of the gatehouse.”
“I don’t like that,” said Cyn. "Their arrows can reach us from both the western tower and the gatehouse. Are you sure there isn’t an easier approach?”
Sigwulf frowned. “I’m afraid not. The captain says that’s the narrowest part of the moat.”
“Meaning that’s where they’ll be expecting us,” added Cyn. “It'll be a bloodbath.”
“It could be worse,” offered Ludwig.
Cyn turned on him. “How in the Afterlife could it be worse?”
“It could be raining.”
“Look at you,” she said. “Always looking at the bright side of things. How many defenders did you say they have?”
“Lord Gebhard reckoned they had no more than thirty.”
“That’s definitely not the case now,” said Cyn. “Look at the churned up mud in front of the drawbridge.”
“What of it?”
“That would indicate heavy traffic. I bet most of the village is now safely behind those walls.”
“But they’re not soldiers, are they?”
“It doesn’t take much to toss a rock from the walls. Let’s face it, sieges are desperate affairs.”
“Yes,” agreed Sigwulf, “and remember, Cyn’s always looking on the bright side of things.”
“Now you’re making me feel depressed,” said Ludwig. “Isn’t there any good news?”
The sergeant grunted. “I have an idea. Come on.”
They made their way back to camp. Upon their return, Sigwulf began looking around as if searching for something on the ground.
“What is it you’re looking for?” asked Cyn.
“A stick,” he replied.
“Any old stick, or one in particular?”
“One about four or five feet in length.”
“What for?”
He grinned. “I want to visit that moat tonight. A stick would be useful to test the depth of it.”
“And you figure there’ll be one aro
und here that will do?”
“I saw one earlier.”
“Don’t be silly, Siggy. Someone would have taken it for firewood. If you want something like that, we’ll have to go find a tree.”
“How about a spear?” suggested Ludwig.
“We don’t use spears,” said Sigwulf.
“No,” said Ludwig, “but they do.” He pointed at the hanged man and the two guards who stood watch.
“Are you suggesting we steal one of their spears?”
“I prefer the term ‘borrow,’” said Ludwig.
Sigwulf grinned, his teeth shining brightly in the light of the fires. “All right, let’s go.”
“Hey, now,” said Cyn. “I’m the stealthy one, remember? You’re not going without me.”
“Come along, then. We haven’t got all night.”
They headed south, towards the lights of the village. Once they were closer, they skirted its edge, approaching the hanging tree from the west.
The two baron’s men who stood watch looked uninterested in their surroundings. One leaned against the tree, his helm pulled down over his eyes, while his companion stared off longingly at the lights of the village. Cyn crept forward, following the field's natural indents while Sigwulf and Ludwig stood ready to help, should the need arise.
They could see her clearly from their position, but the closer she drew to their target, the harder it became to make out her shape. Soon she disappeared from sight, leaving them wondering where she had gone.
The staring soldier suddenly turned southward, alerted by a sound. Even as they watched, Cyn rose up from behind him, using some force to tap his helmet with her mace. The man staggered forward, dropping his spear and clasping his helmet with both hands, trying to stem the ringing.
The spear quickly disappeared, and then Ludwig spotted Cyn rushing towards them, the weapon firmly in hand.
“Good job,” said Sigwulf. “Now, let’s get out of here before he raises the alarm.”
They made their way back towards the keep, slowing their pace as they neared. Atop the curtain walls, they could see sentries marching back and forth, their faces illuminated by torches.
Sigwulf shook his head. “The fools are not used to this.”
“Why do you say that?” said Ludwig.
“The sentries are carrying torches,” he replied. “Not only does it give away their position, but it destroys their ability to see in the dark.”
“But you have to be able to see,” said Ludwig.
They crouched, preparing to move closer. “No, you don’t understand. If you stand within the light of a campfire, everything around you will look darker. If, however, you step outside that light, you’ll be able to see more of what lies outside the lit area.”
“That’s unusually clever, Sigwulf. Wherever did you come up with that?”
“From me,” said Cyn, grinning.
Sigwulf urged them to silence, then waved them forward. The moon was out this night, giving them barely enough light to stumble their way over to the moat.
Crouching by the water's edge, Sigwulf poked the spear into the depths. Satisfied, he stepped into the water, which promptly rose past his shins. He waved back at the others to stay put, then prodded again with his makeshift staff.
He was fully halfway across when a shout erupted from above. Ludwig looked up to see someone staring directly at him, unaware of Sigwulf’s presence. The yell was soon replaced by a bell, and then others began running to the wall.
Sigwulf, alerted by the alarm, began moving back to the moat’s bank, but the muddy bottom slowed his progress. An arrow flew, a wild shot, to be sure, considering the darkness, but even an archer could get a lucky hit. Ludwig moved out along the edge of the moat, trying to draw their attention away from Sigwulf.
Ludwig felt an arrow sail past his head, and then more splashed into the moat. Sigwulf gave a grunt as he extricated himself from the water, and then Cyn gave a yell, signalling their retreat.
Ludwig turned and ran, pumping his legs for all they were worth. More arrows flew towards them, but where they landed was anybody's guess. Soon, the fires of the camp drew nearer, telling them they were beyond effective range. Ludwig slumped to the ground, his breath ragged.
“That was close," he said.
Sigwulf waved it off. “That was nothing.”
“Did you get what you wanted?”
“Yes,” the man replied, “but it’s not the best of news.”
“What is it?”
“The moat is crossable, but it’ll take some work.”
“Too deep?”
“No, too muddy. The bottom is hard to navigate. It sucks on the boots, making progress difficult. The only saving grace is the fact that the water is only chest deep.”
“Yes,” added Cyn, “but that’s your chest, not ours. If I were to try to ford that moat, the water would be up to my neck.”
“Could we use boats?” asked Ludwig.
“Do you see any hereabouts?”
“What about filling it in?”
“And with what would we accomplish that? Shovels?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“A good idea,” said Cyn. “Do you have any in your tent? No? How curious, I thought everyone travelled around with a shovel.”
“Hey, now,” said Ludwig, “don’t get upset with me. I’m merely making suggestions.”
Her tone softened. “Sorry. I know you’re trying.”
“What about the baron? Does he have shovels?”
“I doubt it,” said Sigwulf. “That would have required planning and foresight. Neither of which Lord Gebhard has demonstrated, to my knowledge.”
“The problem,” said Cyn, “is getting across the water.”
“Can you swim?” asked Ludwig.
“Not in armour, and especially not while under a barrage of arrows.”
Ludwig snapped his fingers as a ghost of an idea came to him. “I have it.”
Sigwulf looked at him with interest. “Go on.”
“How wide was that moat?”
“Fifteen, maybe twenty feet at its widest.”
Ludwig grinned. “Then we make a bridge.”
Cyn frowned. “I thought you had an actual idea.”
“I do. Bear with me for a moment. We find ourselves a nice long log, long enough to span the distance. Men carry it forward, much like you would a battering ram, except instead of using it to batter down the door, we drop it in the water.”
Sigwulf warmed to the idea. “Yes, and then we have the largest men pull up the other end onto the inner bank.”
“Is there one?” asked Cyn. “I thought the moat went straight up to the castle walls.”
“No, there’s a small gap between the moat and the water,” the sergeant insisted. “Once we have it in place, others can cross quickly and begin putting up their ladders.”
“I don’t know about this,” said Cyn. “It sounds foolhardy.”
“You know what they say,” said Ludwig, “faint heart never won fair maid.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“I don’t remember. I suppose I read it somewhere.”
“He has a point though,” said Sigwulf. “And it would allow succeeding waves to cross the moat quickly.”
Ludwig and the sergeant both looked at Cyn. “Well?” they said in unison.
She surrendered. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”
“Good,” said Sigwulf. “I’ll go see what the captain thinks.”
“Perhaps we should all go,” suggested Ludwig.
“Do you feel that’s a good idea, Ludwig?” asked Cyn. “You and the captain haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
Ludwig paused, thinking things over. “You have a valid point. I guess we should leave it to Sigwulf.”
“Or think it through a bit more,” suggested Cyn. “After all, there won’t be an assault for several days at least. The baron still wants his parley, and we have ladders to build.”
“In
that case,” said Sigwulf, digging into his bag, “let’s have a drink and work this thing through.” He displayed a clay bottle for their inspection.
Ludwig leaned closer. “Where did you get that? It looks expensive.”
“Does it?” said Sigwulf. “What makes you say that?”
“The bottle itself. I’ve seen ones similar to that in my father’s keep.”
“I gather your father likes to drink?”
“Does a fish swim?”
Sigwulf pulled out the cork, passing the bottle to Cyn. She sniffed it experimentally, then smiled. “It smells good. Where did you get it?”
“Back in Torburg,” said Sigwulf. “To be honest, I won it.”
“Won it?” she said. “From who?”
“A merchant, if you must know.”
“And what was it you were wagering on?”
“You and Ludwig, in the melee competition.”
“What did I tell you about gambling?” she said. “We’ll never get any savings at this rate.”
“True,” Sigwulf replied, “but at least we have some nice wine for a change. Now, will you join us? Or will it be only Ludwig and me who will partake of this particular delicacy?”
She tipped back the bottle, taking a mouthful. “Very nice,” she said. “I suppose you’re forgiven… for now.” She passed the bottle to Ludwig.
He, too, took a sip, savouring the taste. “I’ve had something like this before, back in Verfeld. It reminds me of apples.”
“Does it?” said Sigwulf. “Let me see.” The sergeant reached across, taking the bottle from Ludwig’s hand. Tipping it back, he guzzled down what must have been half before lowering it and letting out an enormous belch. “You know, it truly does.”
A man loomed out of the dark. Ludwig recognized him from back at the baron’s keep.
“My lord?”
“Where's your captain?”
Ludwig pointed towards Captain Ecke’s tent, and the man stomped off.
“Who was that?” asked Cyn.
“I think that he’s Lord Gebhard’s son. He certainly resembles the baron.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“You heard him as well as me. He’s looking for the captain.”
Warrior Knight Page 14
