“And I appreciate your concern," said the lord, "but my son must earn his place as my heir. I would not have him cower in the safety of the village while my men are risking their lives in the taking of the keep.”
“Then at least allow me to surround him with trusted men, men who can keep him from harm.”
“That I shall allow,” said the baron. “Now, let us get on to other things. What do you make of our mercenaries, Captain?”
Jager paused before answering. “They shall do,” he said at last, “though I cannot speak to their effectiveness.”
“Meaning?”
“I have heard little of their reputation, my lord. Their captain gives a good accounting, but their manner is… rough.”
“Rough?” said Stein. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They are rabble,” continued Jager. “Recruited from the dregs of society if I don’t miss my guess.”
The baron snorted. “Can’t the same be said of all mercenaries? In any case, what of it? They're at least good enough to storm the walls, aren't they? Or are you saying they’re not up to the task?”
“I think them more than adequate, but I fear their losses will be high.”
“That’s hardly any concern of mine. I have hired them to take the keep. I’m more than willing to lose a few during the assault, providing we are successful.”
“Yes,” added the younger Stein. “And what does it matter? We don’t intend to pay them anyway.”
“My son has hit on a salient point,” said the baron. “In fact, it’s better if their casualties are high. It means there is less to deal with when this is all over.”
“I must object,” said Jager. “If you refuse payment, they may go on the rampage. We all know how badly that can turn out.”
“Nonsense. They’ll be tired from the battle. It won’t take much to scatter what’s left.”
Ludwig, engrossed in the conversation, leaned over farther, but the ladder slipped, scraping along the wooden wall. He hastily regained his position on the rungs to steady it.
“What was that?” said Jager.
Ludwig climbed down as quickly as possible, jumping the last few rungs. “Come,” he said. “Let us hasten from this place.”
“Why?” said Cyn. “What happened?”
“I believe I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to.”
He stepped beneath the ladder, pushing with all his might. Sigwulf, seeing his action, reached out, hooking it near the top and lowering it using the branch. It came down quickly, then they picked up either end, rushing headlong into the trees.
15
Preparations
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” asked Captain Ecke.
“I heard it as clear as day,” said Ludwig.
“And tell me again how you came to be listening at the window?”
“We were testing one of the ladders, sir, and needed to make sure it could take the weight of a man. The tavern is the tallest building in the village and thus offered us the perfect opportunity.”
“You were specifically told that Regnitz was off limits.”
“Not quite,” piped in Cyn. “We were told not to ENTER the village, and we didn’t.”
Ecke gave her a withering glare. “I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I wish to hear it. The fact of the matter is you disobeyed orders.”
Ludwig had had enough. “No, Captain. The fact of the matter is Lord Gebhard isn’t going to pay us. You would do well to remember that.”
“You dare cross me?” countered Ecke. “I can have you whipped for your insubordination.”
“No,” said Sigwulf, "you can’t. The company won’t tolerate that, and you know it. You stand here and belittle those under your command when you should be fighting for them. You’re the captain of the Grim Defenders. Now act like it, or step aside and let someone else take the reins.”
The captain’s voice grew louder. “And who would do so? You? Don’t stand there and lecture me, Sigwulf. I made you, and I can unmake you. Do you hear me?”
The sergeant's fury had been unleashed, and now nothing could contain it. “What’s the matter with you? You’re the commander of this company. Nothing else should matter. It’s your job to look after our people, not berate them for bringing you timely information. These men you have made a deal with intend to double-cross you, sir. What will you do about it?”
“And what would you have me do?” shouted Ecke. “Shall I go to the baron and tell him we were spying on him? By the Saints, we would never get another contract again. It would be the end of the company.”
Sigwulf persisted. “Then maybe it's time for the Grim Defenders to disband! Would you have us risk our lives in battle for no reward? If the baron means to betray us, it's best it comes to light now, rather than later when we are too weakened from battle to argue.”
Ecke stared back, but the fire was gone. Instead, he wore a defeated look. “I’m afraid there's nothing I can do.”
“You mean,” pressed Sigwulf, “there is nothing you are willing to do. There's a difference.”
“Could you not hold back on the assault?” suggested Cyn.
“Yes,” added Ludwig, “at least until he advances us some of our payment?”
The captain sat, regaining his composure to a degree. “It might be possible,” he said at last. “I could, perhaps, explain that we have incurred costs, but only at the risk of upsetting him.”
“Then upset him,” said Sigwulf. “What have we got to lose? He knows full well he can’t assault the keep without us.”
“Yes,” added Ludwig. “There will never be a better time to renegotiate.”
“I realize now I might have overreacted,” said Ecke. “I will see what I can do. Thank you all for bringing this to my attention, but I must take it from here.”
“Then we will leave you to it,” said Sigwulf. He bowed his head in respect, then turned and left, the other two following suit.
* * *
Cyn looked at Sigwulf, concern on her face. She placed a hand on his arm, causing him to look at her.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” she pressed. “You never lose your temper like that.”
Sigwulf took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “He infuriates me, that’s all.”
“He’s doing his best.”
“Is he? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Captain Ecke is not your father. I fear he’s losing his respect for the company.”
“How so?” asked Ludwig.
“He's become obsessed with his position of power. Now it’s more to do with being in command than actually leading the men. I hate to say it, but appointing sergeants has allowed him to become even more detached from the company’s affairs.”
“But nobles run companies all the time,” insisted Ludwig. “It’s how most armies are organized, isn’t it? Or are you suggesting nobles don’t pay attention to such things?”
Sigwulf frowned. “I’m sure many of them do, but you must remember they owe service to those above them, such as dukes or kings. Our company has no such allegiance, so that makes the captain the ultimate authority.”
“We need a charter.”
“Like that city of yours? What was it called?”
“Malburg?”
“Yes,” said Sigwulf, “although I don’t see how that would help us.”
Ludwig laughed. “A charter is simply a system of rules put in place to limit and define what responsibilities are necessary to get things done.”
“You make it sound so complicated.”
“But it doesn’t have to be. A company charter would lay out what each rank is responsible for, and it would put limits on what captains and sergeants could offer in terms of punishment. It would also formally describe the pay structure and what's expected of each member of the company.”
“But we have a p
ay structure,” said Cyn. “Remember the shares?”
“Is it written down anywhere?” asked Ludwig.
“No,” she replied, “but we all know it.”
“But if the captain were to die, there would be nothing to guide his replacement.”
“True, but the company IS the captain, isn’t it? Once he’s gone, the company would fold.”
“No,” said Ludwig. “Look to your own father’s life. You said he worked his way up to command the Crossed Swords. That could only happen if the company were run efficiently. Captain Ecke might mean well, but he lacks the experience of command. Such a document would explain what's required of him.”
“You make a valid point,” said Cyn. “What do you think, Siggy?”
“It makes sense, I suppose,” said Sigwulf, “but I hardly think this is the time to be introducing the concept. If we survive this contract, we should bring it to his attention.”
“And therein lies the rub,” said Ludwig. “We must somehow survive the contract. Not so easy to do if our employer is plotting against us.”
“We have to hope the captain can sort things out,” said Cyn. “In the meantime, we must prepare to carry out the assault.”
“And if he’s unsuccessful?” asked Sigwulf.
“Then maybe it’s time to reconsider our service in the Grim Defenders.”
* * *
Ludwig looked down at the log. It was twelve paces long, easily long enough to span the moat, yet still he worried. Across from him stood Sigwulf, ready to lift it when the command was given. Behind them, ten more men took up similar positions, set to lead the charge. Their job was to secure the log on either side of the moat to enable those behind to flood across with their siege ladders.
Baldric was to their left, leading another such group, while Cyn, being lighter of frame, would come forward with the rest of the troops, ready to climb once the ladders were in place.
The sky was growing darker, evidence that night was coming, but clouds were also rolling in, and Ludwig feared rain would soon be upon them, making the assault even more difficult.
“This will be the end of us,” he said.
“Fear not,” said Sigwulf. “We shall see this through.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“We have the simple job, you and I. All we have to do is place this log. It's the others you should be worried for.”
“They'll be throwing everything they have at us,” warned Ludwig, “and we'll be hampered by the log, not to mention the moat.”
“Yes, but the darkness will hide us.”
“Yet one more thing to complicate matters.”
“Have you never gone into battle before?” asked Sigwulf.
“No,” confessed Ludwig, “nor have I killed a man.”
“And here I took you as an experienced warrior.”
“I can fight, it’s true, but I fear my training has ill-prepared me for what is to come. My bowels feel as though they will soon loosen.”
“Set your mind on the task ahead,” urged Sigwulf, “and put all other matters from your mind. Those who fear death often bring it upon themselves. Think, therefore, on the immortal words of my father.”
“Which are?”
“Get your arse moving and don’t stop unless you have to.”
Ludwig laughed, feeling some of the tension drain away. “Wise words. I wish I could say the same of my own father. I feel like I was an embarrassment to him.”
“Men often find it hard to say what their heart feels. I’m sure he loved you in his own way.”
“If he did, I saw no sign of it.”
“That sword of yours,” said Sigwulf. “Was that the work of your smith?”
“Charlaine? Yes, why?”
“A weapon like that is worth a lot. Did she gift it to you?”
“No,” said Ludwig. “My father commissioned it.”
“Ah, so your father did show his affection for you, then.”
Ludwig’s eyes drifted to the hilt of his sword. “I suppose he did.”
“It's a fine blade,” continued Sigwulf. “A princely gift if ever I’ve seen one.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel bad about leaving home, it won’t work.”
“Not at all. I’m merely pointing out that some people are not good at expressing their feelings. I was the same way myself.”
“You?” said Ludwig. “I hardly see you as being a man who talks of such things.”
“And before I met Cyn, I would have said the same thing, but things change when a man finds the right woman.”
“I found one, but then I lost her, all because of my father.”
“That relationship was doomed from the start,” said Sigwulf, “and well you know it. Nobles and commoners don’t mix.”
“But you found Cyn, and she’s a commoner.”
“She is, but then again, I gave up any claim to being noble.”
“As have I,” insisted Ludwig.
“Have you? I very much doubt that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Merely that you still have the outlook of a noble. You want the world to be a better place, Ludwig, and that’s not a small thing. People like you can use their influence and power to accomplish great things, yet you spend your time slumming with mercenaries.”
“A man must make a living.”
“True, but there are easier ways of doing that than joining a free company. Don’t get me wrong, we’re glad you’re here, but don’t try to pretend this is your home. You have the wanderlust within you, like the knights of legend.”
Ludwig’s eyebrows shot up, not that anyone could see them beneath his helmet. “You honestly think so?”
“I know so. You are destined for great things, my friend. You have that indefinable quality that sets you apart. Our job is to keep you alive long enough for you to achieve your destiny.”
Ludwig scoffed. “I don’t believe in destiny.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you do or not. What matters is whether destiny believes in you.”
“You’re beginning to sound more like an old woman.”
Sigwulf smiled. “With age comes wisdom. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A shuffling off to their right revealed the baron’s bowmen moving into position.
“Looks like the assault is getting ready to begin,” offered Ludwig.
“So it does.”
“Do you think the captain has spoken to Lord Gebhard?”
“I hope so," said Sigwulf, "but we must put such things from our minds. We have work to do.”
Ludwig looked right, watching as the commander of the bowman gave the order to loose their arrows. The light was fading fast, but the archers needed to get the range right before darkness engulfed them. They would keep up a steady barrage until the ladders were brought forward, then it would be up to the Grim Defenders.
Time seemed to stretch on forever until finally, off in the distance, the first torches were lit atop the curtain wall, revealing a mass of warriors waiting to repulse the assault. Ludwig, finding his courage tested, forced himself to look away, staring instead at the log beside him. They had looped a rope around the trunk with the two ends hanging loose to enable it to be picked up.
Ludwig grabbed his bit of rope, with Sigwulf copying his actions on the other side. Those behind followed suit, each taking up the loops that had been prepared and then waiting a moment longer as the sun finally hit the horizon, sending the field into a land of twilight.
“Lift,” called out Sigwulf. Everyone heaved at the same time, raising the log off the ground. Ludwig closed his eyes, counting slowly, trying to keep his mind from wandering.
“Advance,” came the command, and then they started moving forward. It was awkward, to say the least. With both hands on the rope, Ludwig could only shuffle along, taking short, measured steps to keep pace with the rest of them. That meant no drawn sword, and, even more importantly, his shield must remain slung on h
is back, bouncing against him as he moved forward.
To his right, the archers kept up their attack, loosing arrow after arrow into the gathering darkness. The sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, and then there was little to see, save the distant torches amongst the defenders.
He felt his feet stumble across the uneven turf, then someone behind him tripped, sending the log crashing to the ground. Ludwig let out a curse.
“Watch your footing,” roared Sigwulf, “and prepare to lift on the count of three. One… two… three, heave!”
Ludwig pulled up on the rope, and the log rose again.
“Small steps,” called out the sergeant. “Don’t rush it.”
All that existed in the darkness was the rope, the log, and the ground beneath his feet. Ludwig stared ahead, focusing on the distant wall, fighting down the fear that an arrow would take him in the eye. He tried to tell himself it was just nerves, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that disaster was about to befall them.
On and on they went until the weight made his muscles protest. Ludwig considered himself in fighting shape, but his back ached, and he found himself thinking back to his home in Verfeld Keep. His father had been wracked with back problems for years, the result of a fall from horseback. Most of the time, he'd managed to hide his pain, but on the rare occasion, it was difficult to ignore. Ludwig now felt more sympathetic towards what his father had been forced to endure.
Something whistled past his ear, and then the man behind him let out a scream. The log threatened to tear itself from his grasp, but Ludwig held on as if his life depended on it. They slowed, then picked up the pace again as others moved past the wounded man.
Another step, and then Ludwig lost his footing, having reached the edge of the moat, only to have the ground collapse beneath him. He sank up to his ankle, instinctively letting go of the rope. A curse from Sigwulf revealed he'd made a similar discovery.
“We are here,” the sergeant called out. “Wade in and keep pulling.”
Ludwig turned, struggling to find the rope in the inky blackness. Finally, he found it and then pulled, turning to move farther into the water, which was cold, much colder than he expected. He felt the shock of the frigid liquid as he sank up to his groin.
Warrior Knight Page 16
