Warrior Knight

by Paul J Bennett

  “And now?”

  “He seems to have found a little of his former spark since he took up with his present wife, though for the life of me, I can’t understand why.”

  “He’s in love,” said Ludwig.

  “Then more power to him,” said Lord Wulfram. “He deserves at least a modicum of happiness. Saints know the rest of his life has been full of sadness. You know he’s lost three children?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Two from his first ‘official’ wife and a son from his second. If he doesn’t father another soon, he’ll have to pass on the duchy to his cousin.”

  “Is he ill?”

  “No,” said Wulfram, “but the pressure of court surely weighs on him. The people want to know the seat of power is looked after, and if he doesn’t name an heir, his neighbours will begin to take an interest.”

  Ludwig shook his head. “So he has no real freedom.”

  “Not really. We all presume being a ruler is a fine thing, but frankly, no one stops to consider the cost it has on a person.”

  “I, for one, am perfectly content to be a simple baron’s son.”

  Lord Wulfram smiled. “As you should be, but don’t get too comfortable. Things can change quickly in the Petty Kingdoms. One day you’re a baron, the next, you may be the sworn enemy of another.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “I suppose I am. I still can’t believe Stein took his quest for power to such lengths. I always considered him a reasonable man, but something turned him sour.”

  “I have an idea that the duke may bear some responsibility for that.”

  “You do?” said Wulfram.

  “Yes, he encourages fighting amongst his nobles. Arguments are one thing, but sooner or later, it’s bound to get out of hand as it did with you and Lord Gebhard.”

  “Let us hope that's the end of it.”

  A distant horn sounded, drawing their attention to the north, where the troops were finally moving.

  Lord Wulfram smiled. “It looks like the roads have cleared up. Best get the men on their feet, Sir Ludwig. The march is finally begun.”

  * * *

  Chermingen lay some hundred miles from the capital, necessitating a march of several days. It wouldn’t have been bad had the army been properly informed of what was expected of them, but instead, the men set out not knowing how far they were to march each day.

  Being in the rear had its own problems. Ludwig’s men were constantly slowing, then speeding up as the army before them couldn’t manage to keep to a steady pace. Add to that the inexperience of the army commanders, and the problems only magnified. On more than one occasion, he led his men into camp after dark, making even the simplest task of setting a fire that much more difficult.

  He didn’t see much of Lord Wulfram, for the baron was kept up front as part of the duke’s entourage. Thus it fell to men like Ludwig to carry out the march.

  They were four days out from Torburg when Ludwig next saw his liege lord. Having trailed into camp as the sun was low on the horizon, he was helping to get the fire going when the baron appeared, his horse lathered.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

  “We just arrived,” said Ludwig. “Would you care for something to eat?”

  “No, I don’t have the time, and neither do you. We’re wanted at the duke’s tent.”

  “For what?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” said Wulfram, “but we’d best not keep him waiting.”

  “I suppose I’d best clean myself up. I’m covered in dust.”

  “Don’t bother. You’re no worse off than the rest of us. I’ll ride over there directly. It’s just down the road, past that bend. Don’t be long.”

  The baron left Ludwig to ponder his fate. Was he in some kind of trouble? He suddenly had a terrible feeling his father might have tracked him down. Was that it? Would he be sent home at the height of the campaign?

  Sergeant Krebbs poked the fire. “I’ll take care of the lads, sir. You’d best get along to see His Grace.”

  “The men have to eat,” said Ludwig, “and I don’t trust that fellow Kurt has handing out the rations. Last night he tried to stiff us.”

  “I’ve dealt with his sort before, sir. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Of course, but I expect a full report when I return.”

  “A report, sir?”

  “Yes, a full accounting of how things went.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  Ludwig began making his way up the road. As the sun sank below the horizon, the campfires lit up the night sky, throwing shadows against the trees. Everyone appeared in good spirits, a far cry from how he felt inside—as if his entire world had suddenly been turned upside down. Mere days ago, he had been happy to march to war, had even talked of returning home once the campaign was over, but to be told he must leave now was simply too much to bear.

  He tried to reason things through, but his own mind worked against him. What else could the duke want of him other than to send him home? He wasn’t a formidable warrior, and his battle experience was limited to a brief fight in the keep. What else, then, could the duke want?

  A soldier in His Grace’s livery called out a challenge.

  “Sir Ludwig, to see the duke,” he replied.

  The man ushered him on his way.

  The road curved to the right, and then the tents came into view, well-lit by strategically placed lanterns. He was shocked by the sight, for here, the nobles of the court lived lavishly, while their men slept in the open, struggling to keep warm in the night air. True, summer was upon them, but the evenings had been chilly of late, and more than one warrior had been forced to spend the night warming himself by the campfire.

  As he proceeded, he noticed movement off to his left. A well-dressed man had just relieved himself against a tree and was evidently returning to the duke’s tent. He halted as they made eye contact.

  “Are you Sir Ludwig?”

  “I am.”

  The man extended a hand. “How do you do, sir? I don't know if you remember me, but I’m Lord Anwald, Baron of Zurkirk, and the duke's marshal. I’ve heard much about you.”

  “Good to see you again, but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lord, for I am unfamiliar with your home.”

  “It lies to the west, past Anshlag. In any case, it doesn’t really matter. Let’s get you inside, shall we? We certainly don’t want to keep His Grace waiting.”

  Lord Anwald led him into the largest tent where they found the duke waiting for them, along with Lord Gebhard and his son, Hagan. Lord Wulfram was also there, looking none too pleased.

  “Ah,” said the duke, “there you are. I was just talking to the barons here.”

  “My apologies, Your Grace. We were making camp," said Ludwig.

  “Not to worry, you’re here now.” The duke turned to Lord Anwald. “Where was I?”

  “You were discussing the baron’s troops, Your Grace.”

  “Ah, yes, that was it. Lord Wulfram’s forces are far too few to be of any consequence on the battlefield; still, I hesitate to not utilize them. As a result, I’ve decided to lump them in with the forces of Lord Gebhard.”

  “I must object,” said Lord Wulfram. “I cannot, in good conscience, agree to such an arrangement.”

  “YOU cannot?” said Stein. “I’m the one who is being forced to take in those strays you call soldiers. I should have had them all executed when I destroyed your keep.”

  “You didn’t destroy my keep,” shouted Wulfram. “You couldn’t even manage that. If it hadn’t been for those mercenaries you hired, you’d still be rotting away outside my walls!”

  “Gentlemen,” said Lord Anwald. “I might remind you that you’re in the presence of His Grace, the duke. Can you not act in a civilized manner?”

  “It was not I who set out to invade my neighbour,” said Lord Wulfram.

  “But it was you who refu
sed the marriage of my son to your daughter,” returned Lord Gebhard. “What did you expect me to do, roll over and go back to sleep?”

  The duke turned to the Baron of Zurkirk. “What say you, Lord Anwald? Have you an opinion on this matter?”

  “I fear the animosity between their lordships may prove detrimental to the cause, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, I’m forced to agree.” He turned back to face the two feuding barons. "Our land is under threat of invasion, my lords, so we must band together to defend what is ours. In order to do that, we must field as many men as possible. Can you not see reason, Lord Gebhard?”

  “I agree,” said the Baron of Mulsingen, “but they are, for the most part, men sworn to my service, and therefore should be under my command, as is my right.”

  “You have a son, do you not?”

  Lord Gebhard looked at Hagan. “Of course, Your Grace. He’s right here, as you can plainly see.”

  “And is he capable of exercising command in your name?”

  Ludwig noticed the man fidgeting. “Of course, my lord. What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

  “That your son assumes the position of captain of your forces. To balance things out, Lord Wulfram, your knight, Sir Ludwig, will become his aide. Would that be acceptable to you both?”

  Lord Wulfram nodded, though whether he liked the idea or not was an entirely different matter.

  “Good, then it’s settled. Tomorrow morning, Sir Ludwig will gather his men and rendezvous with those under the command of Lord Hagan Stein.”

  The junior Stein preened at the compliment. To be named a captain was one thing, but to be addressed as Lord put him on an entirely different level of respect.

  “I shall be honoured, my lord,” said Ludwig.

  “As will I, Your Grace,” announced Hagan.

  “Good. Now, as for you two,” he addressed the two barons, “you shall remain close at hand, as my advisors. Is that understood?”

  They both silently glared at him, defiance in their eyes.

  The duke, not to be outdone, stared back. “I might remind you that as your duke, I am quite within my rights to strip you of your lands.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” said Baron Stein.

  “Wouldn’t I?” The duke glanced at Lord Anwald and nodded.

  Lord Anwald made his way to a small table that sat nearby, on which were two rolled-up parchments. Picking them up, he then moved to stand beside the duke.

  “Do you know what those are?” asked His Grace.

  Ludwig noticed the sweat on Lord Gebhard’s forehead and the nervous twitching of his leg.

  “No, Your Grace,” squeaked out Baron Stein.

  “They are a proclamation, ceding all of your lands and titles to me for disbursement to individuals more deserving of such honours. Now, am I to issue these documents, or shall we all agree to honour my… suggestions?”

  Baron Stein swallowed hard. “They are most acceptable, Your Grace.”

  The duke turned to Lord Wulfram. “And you? Do you also find them to your satisfaction?”

  Ludwig had never seen his liege so pale of face.

  “I do, Your Grace.”

  “Good, then it's settled. Now get out of here, the lot of you. I would have some peace and quiet for a change.”

  They all issued from the tent, Lord Wulfram stomping off while Lord Gebhard pulled his son Hagan aside to have words.

  Lord Anwald, meanwhile, stood by Ludwig. “Well?” he said. “What do you make of this?”

  “I have no objection, my lord. I have served Lord Gebhard once. To do so again is not so difficult.”

  Anwald lowered his voice. “Keep an eye on young Hagan. I fear he may be out of his depth.”

  “He and I are of a similar age, my lord.”

  “In years, perhaps, but in maturity, I would argue the point. In any event, the duke is counting on you.”

  “On me? I’m not the one in command.”

  “True, but you are a soldier, Sir Ludwig, while Master Hagan is not. He seeks position within the court, but you, as an outsider, hold no threat in that regard.”

  “So I am to be trusted because I have no political ambitions?”

  Lord Anwald smiled. “I see you understand. Do this for His Grace, and you shall earn his friendship. Who knows, it may come in useful sometime in the future. One day you’ll be the Baron of Verfeld, Ludwig, and having the ear of a duke, even a foreign one, may be advantageous.”

  34

  The New Command

  Summer 1095 SR

  * * *

  Ludwig halted his men. Before them, Lord Gebhard's troops lay stretched out over the field, and beyond them, the Grim Defenders, all of whom would now be under Lord Hagan’s command.

  “There they are,” he said.

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Sergeant Krebbs. “The men aren’t going to like it, sir.”

  “I don’t imagine Stein’s men will feel any better about it, but it's the will of the duke.”

  “We’ll have to make the best of it, I guess.”

  “Best we get this over and done with,” said Ludwig. “Come on, let’s go and introduce ourselves.”

  Into the field he went, his men trailing along behind. Hagan was already there, walking amongst his own men, or rather, his father's, trying to look interested in all around him. In reality, he appeared uncomfortable, something as plain as day to the men under his command.

  “My lord,” called out Ludwig in greeting.

  “Ah, there you are, Sir Ludwig. I was wondering when you’d get around to showing up.”

  “My apologies. We were some distance down the road.”

  Hagan waved away the excuse. “Don’t let it worry you. I’ve only just arrived myself.” He looked Ludwig up and down, paying particular attention to the mud on his boots. “Have you no horse?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, we’ll have to do something about that. I have a spare you can use, a grey I inherited from our mage.”

  “You mean Herzog?”

  “Yes, him," said Hagan. "Mind you, it’s a finicky beast. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Clay, wasn’t it?”

  “Wasn’t what?”

  “The horse. Wasn’t Clay its name?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it. I’ll have it sent over in the morning, before we march. Better you should ride than walk. It lets the men see you.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  Hagan, looking around to take in the campfires, seemed hesitant to talk.

  “Where would you like to start?” asked Ludwig.

  “A good question. What would you suggest?”

  “I thought we might call all the sergeants together.”

  “Yes,” agreed Hagan, “and Captain Ecke. After all, he still commands the mercenaries. I’ll let you see to the details of that. We’ll meet over there, by that large oak tree.”

  “By all means,” said Ludwig. He turned to his own small command. “Sergeant Krebbs, have the men wait over there”—he pointed—“and then get yourself to that tree over yonder. I’ll meet you there once I’ve rounded up the others.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant.

  Ludwig scanned the camp. He knew Karl Dornhuffer had been made sergeant, and so he called out his name but was shocked to discover the man was almost directly behind him, his face hidden beneath his kettle helm.

  “You looking for me, sir?”

  “Yes, Sergeant. Join Sergeant Krebbs over by that tree. Your new captain would like a few words with you.”

  “New captain, sir?”

  “Yes, Lord Hagan Stein.”

  Ludwig noted the look of disappointment on the man’s face, but Dornhuffer soon recovered. “Yes, sir. Are you coming as well?”

  “I’ll join you shortly. I have to round up our mercenary friends.”

  “There’s only the Grim Defenders left, sir. The duke took over the contract for the Blades.”

&nb
sp; “Did he now? Well, I suppose that will make things easier in the long run. Now, I’d better get moving, or Lord Hagan will be waiting all morning. Where are the Defenders?”

  The sergeant pointed. “That way, sir.”

  Ludwig chastised himself, for their location should have been obvious to him, clearly marked out, as they were, by the neat lines of small tents.

  He was soon amongst them. “Captain Ecke?” he called out.

  “Here,” came the reply. The mercenary commander stepped from his tent. “Sir Ludwig, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to inform you Lord Hagan Stein will be commanding the baron’s forces, and that includes your men.”

  Ecke shrugged. “It makes no difference to me, as long as we’re paid.”

  “I assume all financial arrangements will still be honoured,” said Ludwig, “but I can check on that later if you wish. In the meantime, His Lordship would like to address his senior leaders. Can we have you and your sergeants join us over there?” He pointed.

  “I’ll gather them and be right over.”

  “Good. I look forward to seeing you there.”

  “One more thing,” said Ecke.

  “Yes?”

  “Why are you here? You’re not working for Baron Stein again, are you?”

  “I am, in a manner of speaking. His Grace, the duke, has decided to merge the forces of Stein and Haas. The new, combined group will be commanded by Lord Hagan.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll be his aide. Have you an issue with that?”

  “No," said Ecke, "none at all.”

  “Good, then we’ll see you shortly.”

  “You can count on it."

  * * *

  Ludwig joined his new commander.

  “Did you get the mercenaries?” asked Lord Hagan.

  “They’ll be here shortly. The captain’s gathering his sergeants.”

  “It looks like he already has.”

  Ludwig noted the approach of Ecke, followed by two of his mercenaries.

  “What’s this?” he called out, for Sigwulf was trailing his captain, joined by Cyn.

  “This,” replied Sig, “is our newest sergeant.”