Conrad Starguard-The Radiant Warrior

by Leo Frankowski

  I pondered the problem through the three removes of the feast, and decided that honesty was the only answer. I would confess my ignorance to the lady and trust to her courtesy to educate me as to what I should do.

  With the meal over, another of the wenches showed me the way to the room given me for my own use. I sat down on a chest, suddenly very nervous. Was I supposed to go for her? Should I have brought a gift? Minutes seemed like hours, but in fact in what was really a very short time, she came.

  "My lady, you see, I've never . . . I mean . . ."

  She smiled and said calmly, "I know, my lord. They told me. There's nothing to worry about."

  "But what should I do? I mean . . ."

  "Well, you might start by kissing me. Just put your arms around me . . . that's better . . . relax! Soften your lips, like this. That's better, mmmm . . . much better. Now we have to get all this armor off you . . ."

  She was wonderful, as beautiful in mind as she was in body. Slowly, careful of my easily shattered confidence, she led me through a night of marvelous pleasure and wondrous delight. Her skin was so incredibly smooth and soft and yielding, yet there was a strength about her that seemed equal to my own. She was at once my earnest teacher and my willing slave.

  I shall be forever grateful to that lady, yet after she kissed me good-bye in the gray dawn and had left, I realized that I had committed the greatest of wrongs to her. I had never asked her name.

  When I joined the others, I was vastly tired, having gotten little sleep the night before. Yet there were oaths to be taken, Baron Conrad's to Count Lambert and my own as a knight to Baron Conrad. Then we had to return to Baron Conrad's lands, for much needed doing. Yet I asked my lord if I might have three days leave, on account of my wound, and he granted it, winking at me, for he knew my thoughts.

  "Go to her, boy!"

  At Three Walls, I spoke first to Yawalda at the stables, explaining to her my new knighthood and how I meant to use it. She agreed to take care of Krystyana's three children while I went to Krystyana!

  Learning that she was in her room, I simply walked inside, delivered her children to Yawalda's waiting arms and barred the door behind us. Krystyana was so shocked by my behavior that it was a moment before she could speak.

  "Piotr! What are you doing here? Get out of my room!" my love said to me.

  "No, my love. I have a perfect right to be in your room. I am now a true belted knight, made so by Count Lambert himself only yesterday. You are an unmarried wench and not of the nobility. I have the right to take any such unmarried woman who attracts me. You attract me, you always will and you always have. Therefore, you now have the obligation to do as I please."

  "Piotr! I am not your love and you will get out of here or I will scream!"

  "Scream away, my love. It happens that just now I am the only true belted knight at Three Walls. There is no one here that would stop me from doing my duty." I strode forward and put my arms around her.

  "Duty! Damn you, Piotr Kulczynski! Let go of me!"

  "Never, my love."

  Krystyana let out a scream that could have curled the toenails on a war-horse. Yawalda must have gathered a crowd outside the door, because as soon as Krystyana ran out of breath we heard a round of applause from the hallway.

  "Damn you! Damn you all! Is everyone against me?"

  "No, my love. Everyone is for you. Every one of your friends want only what is best for you and so do I. And the thing that is best for you is me."

  "God in heaven will damn you to hell forever!"

  "God will do what he thinks best, and so will I, my love. Come, let's get this apron off you."

  And so it went for hours. My courtesy, my gentle firmness and my love for her fell, it seemed, on barren soil. Yet I continued, for there was naught else I could do. I told her of the events of the past year, and she sneered at me. I told her of my fight with Baron Stefan and my victory over that valiant knight, and she called me a brute for harming a wounded man. I told her of my meeting with Count Lambert and of his knighting me, and she said that a pig with a crown was still a pig.

  And every time she screamed, the applause from the hall got louder. Indeed, I found out later that there were more than three dozen well-wishers out there, and that they had sent to the kitchens for beer and popcorn to ease them while they waited us out. Even Father Thomas, the priest, had joined them.

  By dint of the strength and dexterity I had gained in my warrior training, I eventually managed to get her undressed and abed. This brought on further complaints.

  "Your armor is cold and scratchy, you oaf!"

  "True, my love, but the fault is at least partly your own, for since my arrival here you have kept my hands so busy that I have not had the chance to doff it."

  "You could always leave."

  "Never, my love. But could I trust you to stay quiet while I remove it?"

  "You might."

  "Then I shall do so."

  She was still while I took off sword and dagger, gauntlets and greaves, elbow cops and tasses. It was only as I was doffing my helm that she broke for the door. Of course, I was ready for that, caught her below the breasts with one arm and set her again on the bed.

  "Be nice," I said.

  "You bastard! Sir Conrad would never force a woman!"

  "True, my love. But then he wouldn't marry one, either. Further, it's Baron Conrad now and if I'm truly a bastard, my mother would be surprised to hear of it. Can't you give my suit even a little thoughtful consideration?"

  She was still struggling, and I found it best to simply sit on her while I removed the rest of my armor, padding and small clothes. She screamed some more and the crowd cheered some more. Eventually, she desisted. I threw my weapons to the far corner of the room, for my love was in a truly feisty mood and I feared she would be tempted to sin with them, and in so sinning, add to my wounds. In truth, my leg wound had opened a bit in the struggle, but what's a little blood on the sheets on your first night with a woman? Well, admittedly, it was the wrong person's blood, but one can't have everything.

  It was a long night, and the second in a row without sleep. Nor was it nearly as pleasant as the one before, for my love was not working at my pleasure as I was at hers. Yet in the end I was successful, for in the early dawn, I looked at my love and she looked back. And smiled.

  And that day we went to the priest and posted our banns of matrimony.

  And then I got some sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD SCHWARTZ

  The big day had arrived. The first class of the Warrior's school was about to graduate. The three dozen men would be the training instructors who would forge the army that would beat the Mongol horde, God willing.

  Eleven months ago, there had been twelve dozen of them. Since that time, I had put them through the roughest program of basic training that I could imagine. Now two dozen of that original number were dead, killed on the training ground and on the obstacle course. Others were crippled for life and at least six men had been driven insane. But the core of the army was ready!

  I'd invited a few dignitaries to observe the last day of training and the graduation ceremonies. Count Lambert, my liege lord, was there. His liege, Duke Henryk the Bearded, could not make it, but he had sent his son, Prince Henryk the Pious, to observe for him. Abbot Ignacy of the Franciscan monastery in Cracow had come at my invitation, as had some of his monks, including Friar Roman. Sir Miesko and Lady Richeza were of course in attendance, as were a few dozen of Count Lambert's other knights, mostly members of the more progressive faction.

  There were a thousand others besides, because for this day only, the school was thrown open to the public. Many were there from Three Walls because word was out that all the men working for me would be going through the school, and they wanted to see what was in store for them.

  And about four dozen young ladies from Count Lambert's cloth factory came, having heard that there would soon be three dozen new knights a
nd most of them bachelors. It seemed that everyone but the men themselves knew that they would be knighted, but that's the way things usually go. I wanted to keep it from them so that they would get a greater emotional impact from the graduation ceremonies.

  At dawn, a bugle sounded reveille and in a few minutes the men fell in on the concrete parade ground. A priest said a very short mass, without a sermon, and the band played Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man." Then the thirty-six men, the four knights that had trained them and I recited the Warrior's Oath and the Warrior's Code before the assembled guests.

  I announced the orders of the day myself.

  "Gentlemen," I said, and got some smiles. Usually I was much less polite. "This will be your last day of training. You notice that we have visitors today. They are here to observe our training methods. Please go about the routines in the normal manner and as though no one was watching you, since I'd hate to have to wash you out at this point in the game. We'll make the morning run in full armor. After breakfast, we'll have an hour of pike-training and an hour of swords. After dinner there will be an hour of wagon-and-gunnery practice.

  "You will then have the rest of the afternoon off, but be sure to go to Confession. You'll have to be in a state of grace to make it through this evening's ceremony. You see, gentlemen, tonight you are going to walk on fire. After that we will be up all night long, performing a vigil, so get some rest this afternoon. Be back here in a quarter hour in full armor. Fall out!"

  That was more time than they usually got, our "hour" being twice as long as the modern one, but I wanted our visitors to have time to string themselves out along the obstacle course.

  Count Lambert came up and said, "It's hard to believe that those men are the same ruffians I sent you a year ago."

  "Yes, my lord, but it's true."

  "That oath was touching," Prince Henryk said, "but what does this standing in neat lines have to do with defeating the Mongols."

  "That's difficult to explain, my lord. It's all part of a program that makes these men the finest foot soldiers in the world. I've invited you here today to show you what these men can do. For now, let's mount up and find a good spot on the obstacle course."

  I'd arranged for a dozen guides to take the bulk of the visitors around, but I wanted to escort the VIPs myself. It was not only necessary to build the finest army in the world, it was also necessary for the powers that be to know that it was as good as I said it was.

  We stopped at the first major obstacle, a huge log suspended fifteen stories up between two big denuded pine trees. Four ropes went from the ground, up and over the log and then back down to the ground.

  "They're not going to climb that thing, are they?" Count Lambert asked, proudly wearing his new gold armor.

  "They'll climb it in full armor using their arms only, my lord. They'll go over the top and then back down the other side," I said.

  "Have you done this yourself?" Prince Henryk asked.

  "Of course, my lord. I've often led them through the course."

  "I wonder if I could do that," Count Lambert said.

  "I'm sure you could, my lord, if you had taken this training. But for today, I must ask you to observe only, and not participate."

  "That verges on impertinence!" Count Lambert said.

  "Perhaps, my lord, but we all know your abilities. This demonstration is to show you what the men can do."

  Count Lambert started to make further objection, but Prince Henryk put his hand on the count's armored forearm.

  "It shall be as you say, Baron Conrad," the prince said, and that ended the matter.

  The troops came running in step up the trail, their armor clanging loudly. They were four files wide and ten ranks long, and singing the army song.

  "That song sounds familiar," Prince Henryk said.

  "The tune is an old Russian folk song called 'Meadowlands,' my lord. The words are by an English poet named Rudyard Kipling. I translated them and fit the two together."

  The first rank went immediately to the four front ropes and went quickly up, their arms moving in unison and their legs hanging stiff below them. The troops behind did jumping jacks until the first four were halfway up, at which time the next four men started up as the others continued exercising.

  "One of the rules of the course is that the men never stop moving. When they are waiting their turn, or waiting for the others to finish, they exercise in place," I said.

  Abbot Ignacy made the sign of the cross as they scaled the dizzying height.

  "That man on the left, near the top," Prince Henryk said. "That's Sir Vladimir, isn't it?"

  "Yes, my lord. He and the three Banki brothers beside him have been largely responsible for the training."

  "And that little one at the end who's jumping up and down, is that your accountant, Piotr Kulczynski?"

  "Yes, my lord, only he isn't my accountant any longer. Once his training is over, I have another job for him."

  "And what might that be?"

  "I'm setting up a section of mapmakers, my lord, and Piotr will head it. By the time the Mongols invade, we'll have accurate maps of all of southern Poland."

  "That will be of great use to my pilots!" Count Lambert said. "If I can ever get you to get to work on that engine you promised."

  "I promised to work on an aircraft engine once your people built a two-man glider that could stay up for hours, my lord."

  "Then you'd best be thinking about it, because we're close, Baron Conrad, damn close!"

  "Very good, my lord. For now, we'd best go to the next obstacle." I'd gone along with helping out with Eagle Nest, Count Lambert's flying school, because it looked to be a good way to set up an engineering institute at Count Lambert's expense. I never for a minute believed that those kids could build functioning aircraft in under twenty years. They were starting to build some decent gliders, though.

  We got to an almost vertical cliff face fully thirty stories high only slightly ahead of the troops, who came clanking up behind us, still running in step. The first four started climbing immediately while the others did pushups.

  "They move up like ants after a jar of honey!" Count Lambert said.

  "Very deadly ants, my lord."

  "But how is such a thing possible?" Abbot Ignacy asked.

  "Training, Father, plus the fact that they have climbed this particular cliff so often that they know where most of the handholds are."

  Soon, all of the men were on the cliff face and the front rank was nearing the top. Off to the right, a long slack rope went from a pole on the top of the cliff to another four hundred yards away on the ground. The arrangement was such that it was necessary to jump from the cliff in order to catch the rope. The first man up, Sir Vladimir, I was pleased to note, ran immediately toward the rope and flung himself off the edge as the crowd gasped in horror. But he caught the rope and slid down to the ground to be followed by the others.

  "Doesn't that burn their hands?" Prince Henryk asked.

  "No, my lord. If you'll notice, they're not holding it with their hands, but have caught the rope with the cuffs of their gauntlets. The rope is waxed and things don't get too warm."

  "But what if they should slip and fall?"

  "They generally die, my lord."

  And so it went, as the men swung on ropes, ran across long bridges that were as narrow as your arm, climbed log piles, walked tightropes and everything else nasty that I could think up.

  "When they're in full armor, we usually bypass the swimming events, since it takes a few days to dry out their gambesons," I said. "But rest assured that each of these men can swim a half mile in full armor—and six miles naked."

  Despite the fact that we were on horseback, the men beat us back to the mess hall. The VIPs were invited inside and the rest of the crowd was fed outside.

  Each of the men was doing in a breakfast that started with six eggs, a loaf of bread, and a slab of ham as thick as your finger, and went on from there. My own meal was almost as big.<
br />
  "You certainly feed them well," Abbot Ignacy said.

  "True, Father, but we burn it off them quickly enough. You won't find much fat on any of these men."

  Pike practice came next, and the VIPs were treated to being charged by forty pikemen. At the last possible instant, Sir Vladimir shouted "Halt!" and they stopped with the sharp points a finger's breadth from our chests. Seeing that I didn't move, neither Count Lambert nor Prince Henryk flinched, but most of the others had moved back quickly.

  "My lords, I'm sure that you felt the emotional impact of that charge. I ask you to imagine what it would be like if six thousand men charged you in that manner."

  "Emotional impact? I was more worried about the physical one!" Count Lambert said.

  "And I, too," Prince Henryk said. "But I see your point. That an enemy can be defeated without even touching him."

  "That would be ideal, my lord. Once the enemy has broken, you usually lose very few men in the mop-up."

  "The mop-up! You have a good turn for words, Baron Conrad," Count Lambert said.

  Then the men were put to work on the dummies. These were full-weight straw figures of men on horseback, with a real lance held in place. They rolled down a long ramp and once they got to the level section they were going as fast as a horse can charge. In single practice, the object was to skewer the horse with a grounded pike without being run over or hit by the lance. When a single dummy was attacking a group of men, only the men in the center went for the horse. The others went after the rider.

  "That's dastardly!" Prince Henryk said.

  "What is, my lord?"

  "They're deliberately trying to kill the horse!"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "That's unfair!"