“Well, it's of no concern to me.” The baron turned to leave, but Ludwig, desperate for anything to give him hope, tried a different approach.
“My lord?”
Lord Wulfram craned his neck around. “Yes?”
“Why does Lord Gebhard hate you so much?”
“That,” said the baron, “is between him and me and is not for others to discuss.”
Lord Wulfram stepped towards the door, then turned once more unexpectedly. “It's clear you are a man of refinement,” he said. “I shall arrange a blanket for you, along with some decent food, but I’m afraid you must remain here in the dungeon, for the time being. Perhaps, in time, I might change my mind, but you are still my enemy for now. Of course, your noble birth should warrant better treatment, but we are a bit… strained at the moment. I shall assign Rosalyn to keep an eye on you and ensure you are treated with the dignity and respect due your station.” He turned to his daughter. “I assume that is acceptable to you?”
“It is, Father.”
“Good. Then the matter has been decided.”
“Yes, Lord,” said Ludwig.
The baron turned to the guard. “You can return to the walls, Horst. Rosalyn can handle this.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, my lord? She is but a maid.”
“And he is behind bars. I can assure you my daughter is more than capable of dealing with this fellow. Now, come along, Rosalyn. We have much to discuss before you take up your new duties.”
They exited the room, the door slamming shut behind them, leaving Ludwig alone with his thoughts once more.
20
Prisoner
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
He had no idea how much time had passed when the torch finally went out, plunging him into inky blackness. Ludwig considered himself a brave man, for in his mind, any man who fought on a wall must indeed be made of stern stuff. Yet now, alone in the dark, even the smallest of sounds made him shudder, and the scrabbling of what he had to assume were rats drove him to distraction.
The mere thought that his straw might also be infested with insects drove him to lie on the cold stone floor, and thus it was that Rosalyn and her two servants found him curled up in a ball, looking like death warmed over, the heat sapped from his very bones.
“Fetch the key,” she ordered, and one of the servants ran off in a hurry. She stepped closer to the bars, seeking to determine if he was still even alive. Her aide quickly returned, key in hand. When he fumbled with the lock, she pushed him aside, doing the work herself. A click announced her success, and then she stepped inside. Ludwig had a sense of her bending over him but was unable to respond.
“Lay out that blanket,” he heard her say, “and we'll place him upon it.”
They struggled to lift him. He could feel his arms flailing around, but he didn't have the strength to control them. Instead, they rolled him onto the blanket, then covered him with a second one, tucking it beneath his arms. He felt himself being lifted, but still he was numb and unable to speak.
“Is he dead?” said a voice.
“No,” said Rosalyn, “but he has lain on a cold floor in wet clothes. Did no one think of such things?”
Ludwig’s head lolled to the side, and he struggled to right it. Remembering the butt of the spear ringing his head, he felt a slight moment of panic. Had it done more damage than he thought?
“Bring him this way,” he heard her say, and then came the gentle swaying as the servants each held on to an end of the blanket and carried him from the cell with awkward steps.
A bright light shone over him. Slowly, his eyes adjusted until he could make out the face of the young woman peering down at him, the lantern appearing halo-like over her head.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
Ludwig tried to answer, but the words came out all jumbled. He cursed his stupidity as he shivered. If only he had seen fit to lie on the straw, he would not be so terribly chilled. They bore him up a set of stairs, having to set him down several times, the cold stone hard upon his back. Up and up they went, farther and farther, until he lost track of where he was.
Finally, he heard the jingle of keys. They carried him through an open door, but his head banged loudly against the doorway, and he thought he heard Rosalyn curse. Once again, he was set down on the floor. This time, two soldiers moved to stand over him, one lifting him under the arms while the other grabbed his feet. They dumped him onto a bed, and then a couple of blankets were thrown over him.
Ludwig tried to keep his mind alert, his eyes focused, but it was all such a struggle. Again, Lady Rosalyn looked down upon him, concern written on her face.
“Bring some broth,” she commanded, “and more blankets.”
“Maybe some rum?” suggested one of the soldiers.
“A good idea. Please see to it.” Ludwig heard her pacing the room.
“What else can we do?” she asked.
“A brazier?” suggested a soldier.
“Have we one?”
“We do,” the warrior answered, “though it hasn’t been used in years.”
“Then fetch it.”
Ludwig once again succumbed, and as he closed his eyes, he felt Lady Rosalyn take his hand in her own.
* * *
He opened his eyes as light streamed in through a small window. His action alerted a young woman who sat beside the bed. She immediately hopped up and ran from the room, calling for her mistress.
Ludwig lifted his head, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room somewhere in the keep, although judging from the sun, it was high up rather than ground level. He strained to hear any noises that might reveal more, but all he could make out was the distant sound of chopping wood.
The blankets felt heavy against him, and for a moment, he thought he might be restrained, but a quick flick of his arm told him otherwise. Footsteps approached from the hallway, and then Lady Rosalyn appeared, her golden hair glowing in the early morning sunlight.
She smiled. “I see you’re awake. How do you feel?”
Ludwig struggled to answer, but his voice only came out as a croak.
Rosalyn came closer, pouring him some water. “Here,” she said. “Drink this.”
Feeling the cup put to his lips, he drank thirstily.
“Thank you,” he managed to squeak out.
“You had us very worried there for a while.”
“What happened?”
“The dungeon can get quite cold. I’m afraid it sapped your strength.”
He tried to focus on his memories but found it difficult to concentrate. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“It has been two days since we brought you here,” she said. “For a while there, we thought we were going to lose you, but you seem to have recovered.”
“Am I sick?”
“No, merely overcome by the severe conditions of our dungeon. Did you not think to use the straw?”
“It was overrun with vermin,” said Ludwig, “or so I believed.”
“And you thought the cold floor preferable?”
He felt the blood rush to his face. “I must confess I didn’t think it through.”
Her face softened. “Well, it’s a good thing we came back when we did, or you might not have made it.”
“Am I now to be returned to the dungeon?”
“No, at least not for the present. My father feels you may yet have value to him as a hostage.”
“I’m afraid I have little to offer in that regard.”
“But you are a noble. Would you not be worth ransom?”
“A noble I may have been,” said Ludwig, “but my fortunes have turned. I am naught but a mercenary now.”
“Yet still of noble character, judging by your manner.”
“True, but there are none here I am aware of that might pay for my freedom.”
“You have family. Would they not pay to see you safely returned?”
The question forced Ludwig to think.
Would his father wish to see him safe?
Rosalyn noticed the look of concentration on his face, mistaking it for sorrow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You have a right to know if only to realize I am worthless to you. The truth is, my father knows nothing of my whereabouts nor, do I suspect, does he care to.”
“He is your father. How can he not care?”
“We parted under the worst of circumstances,” said Ludwig. “For you see, I ran away from home.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. He felt so childish as if the entire episode had been little more than a tantrum on his part.
“May I ask why?”
He gazed at her, unsure if he should reveal the truth.
“Why do you want to know?”
“You seem a man who bears a heavy burden. I seek only to relieve you of it.”
“And how will my talking to you do that?”
“Sometimes it helps to talk of things," Rosalyn suggested. "It helps us overcome a loss.”
“What would you know of loss?” Ludwig noticed her face darken and immediately regretted his choice of words.
“You are not the only one to lose a loved one,” she said.
“Who said anything about losing someone?”
Her surprise was easy to read. “I just naturally thought…”
“You thought wrong.”
“Then what is it that vexes you so? Did you have a falling out with your father? You mentioned an estrangement betwixt the two of you. What, I wonder, could cause such a rift? Your mother?”
“My mother died years ago,” said Ludwig. “And my father remarried.”
“A stepmother, then?”
“If you had asked me that some months ago, I would have agreed, but I have come to see her as a caring person. No, the truth is it was an affair of the heart. My father and I did not see eye to eye on the matter.”
“But didn't he want to see you married?”
“Most assuredly, although not to the woman I chose.” He felt his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry, it's not something I am prepared to speak further of at this time.”
“I understand,” she said. “The heart is easily wounded and takes time to heal.”
“How is it that one so young is full of such wisdom?”
Rosalyn bristled. “Young? I am not much younger than you, sir, yet you dare to treat me as a child?”
“I apologize if I gave offence. It certainly was not my intention.”
She calmed herself, smoothing the front of her dress with her hands. “I accept your apology, my lord.”
“Please,” said Ludwig, “don’t call me that. I’ve given up that life.”
“Then what shall I call you?”
“Just Ludwig will do.”
Rosalyn smiled. “Very well, Just Ludwig.”
He laughed, causing her own smile to widen.
“There,” she said. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“No, I suppose it wasn’t.”
“Now, why don’t you share a little more about yourself?”
“Such as?”
“Do you ride? Have you fond memories of childhood? Those sorts of things.”
“Riding gives me pleasure,” said Ludwig, “though I have not done so for some months. You saw me in the tournament. I lost my horse there.”
“An unfortunate turn of events.”
“What of yourself? Do YOU ride?”
“I do, though not, of course, under our present circumstances.”
“And did you take to the saddle at an early age?”
“No,” said Rosalyn, “the reverse, in fact. I found horses to be thoroughly frightening as a child.”
“Frightening?”
“Oh, yes. My mother died after falling from a horse, you see. She broke her neck.”
“How old were you at the time?” he asked.
“Five. I barely remember her, if truth be told, but the mere thought that a horse killed her haunted me for years.”
“And what changed your mind?”
“My father," she admitted. "He took great pains to help me overcome my fears, even going so far as to travel all the way to Anshlag to buy me the most docile horse in the realm.”
“And that worked?”
“It did. Now I regularly ride across my father's lands, or at least I did before this whole unfortunate business came to pass.”
Ludwig’s ears pricked up. “What business is that?”
She laughed. “The siege, of course. What else?”
He felt duly chastised. “I should have realized that. What's the nature of this feud between your father and Lord Gebhard?”
“I’m afraid that’s entirely my fault.”
“Surely not?”
She nodded. “Yes, you see, Lord Gebhard came to visit my father nearly six months ago and proposed a union of our two houses.”
“So you’re saying he wanted you to marry his son, Hagan?”
She nodded again but remained quiet.
“I’m guessing you didn’t agree with the idea?”
“No, the very idea repulses me.”
“Is Master Hagan so villainous a figure?”
“The truth is I know almost nothing about him, but if he’s anything like his father, I should prefer to die a spinster.”
“Have you ever met the man?”
“I have not. Have you?”
“I have, as a matter of fact,” said Ludwig. “He seems a decent enough fellow.”
“Is he now? Tell me, is he like his father?”
“I can’t say I’ve been in his company long enough to make that determination.” The implications began to sink in. “Are you saying this whole siege is because you refused to marry him?”
“Yes," said Rosalyn. "Terrible, isn’t it?”
“It’s horrifying. Men are dying out there, and all because Hagan Stein couldn’t take being refused?”
“I believe it more his father’s doing, to be honest. Gebhard Stein was never a man to take no for an answer.”
“But aren't there other women who would make a good match for his son?”
“Indeed, but none so well positioned geographically.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” said Ludwig.
“It has always been Lord Gebhard’s ambition to raise his family name amongst the ranks of the nobility. If he were to marry off his son to me, our child would inherit both baronies.”
“How does that elevate the family?”
“He would be doubling their land, don’t you see? That would warrant a higher title, maybe even an earldom.”
“But Erlingen is a duchy. There are no earls.”
“Stein, and others, have been pressuring the duke to declare himself a king for some time now.”
“What difference would that make?” asked Ludwig. “He’d still rule the same realm.”
“It’s a matter of prestige. Wars have been fought for less.”
Ludwig shook his head. “This is madness.”
“And what of your own situation? Is it not madness to run away from a life of privilege?”
Ludwig felt the shame again. “You make a valid point.”
“I do not mean to mock you. People often make decisions based on their emotions, even though they deny that’s the cause. You yourself ran away, and it has made you the man you are today. Had you the chance to do it all over again, would you decide any different?”
Ludwig thought it over. His thoughts naturally drifted back to the woman with dark hair and almond eyes. “No,” he declared at last. “I wouldn’t.”
“Then you should come to peace with your decision rather than be ashamed of it.”
“Who said I was ashamed?”
“Your features betray you, Ludwig, and you are not the only one who has had to make difficult decisions.”
“What of yourself?” he asked. “Would you change your mind knowing that your refusal of Hagan Stein led to your current circ
umstances?”
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t.”
“Then we must both accept our fate.”
“Fate?” she said. “Are we all mere pawns in some grand scheme?”
“I used to think so,” said Ludwig.
“And now?”
“I think what we see as fate is merely the result of happenstance. It’s easy to see patterns in things that have already passed, quite another to think something else controls our future.”
“What of prophecies?” asked Rosalyn.
“Prophecies? Now you’re getting into all sorts of strange subjects. Do you spend all your time reading?”
“As much as I can. How about you? Do you read?”
“I do,” said Ludwig, “though admittedly not so much in the last few months. Believe it or not, books are scarce in a mercenary camp.”
“You are in no camp now,” said Rosalyn. “Would you like to read one of my father’s books?”
“It would definitely help pass the time. Which would you suggest?”
“Now that presents an interesting quandary. On what subject do you like to read?”
“Anything concerning armies,” said Ludwig, “or knights.”
“I'd have thought you had seen enough fighting by now.”
“Truthfully, I've seen little. The initial assault on the wall was my first battle.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, but I’ve always wanted to make a name for myself as a leader of men.”
“So you led the attack?”
“Hardly," Ludwig said. "I’m a simple mercenary who follows orders.”
“Yet they let you be the first into the courtyard?”
Ludwig grinned. “Aye, it’s true, but only because Linden and I hatched that crazy scheme.”
“Linden?”
“Yes, the Earth Mage who opened up the wall.”
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry to tell you, but I believe he was killed in the counterattack.”
“I had expected as much. Can you tell me any more?”
“I’m afraid there’s little more to tell. Your fellow soldiers were beaten back at the west wall even as your mage was working his magic. Then again, I imagine that was your plan.”
“It was,” said Ludwig. “And it would have worked had the spell not taken so long.”
Warrior Knight Page 21
