Warrior Knight Read online

  As Ludwig passed through the gate, he was finally able to see the Temple Knights up close. He had expected them to be wearing the dark-grey of Saint Cunar but was surprised to see the distinctive scarlet of the Sisters of Saint Agnes. The sight made him think of Charlaine, and he paused, only to be pushed forward by Cyn.

  “Keep moving,” she said. “You’re holding up the entire line.”

  He chided himself for losing focus as he stepped onto the field. His fellow competitors began milling around, forming small knots of warriors, no doubt teaming up to last longer. He thought he spotted at least three other women, but it was difficult to tell with their helms in place. As to his own equipment, he had chosen to wear his own breastplate over the padded doublet supplied by Sigwulf, along with his helmet. The blunted sword he gripped was borrowed from the Grim Defenders, its edge dented and scratched. They had also loaned him a wooden shield, and this he hefted, testing its balance.

  Another horn sounded, calling everyone's attention to the stands. A herald stood front and centre, announcing the competition was about to begin. Next, he read off the rules, few as they were, and then told everyone to take up their places.

  Ludwig looked around. Outside the ring, commoners were packed up against the fencing, eager to watch the competition. On the field itself, many little groups had formed. He moved back towards the fence, pulling Cyn with him. When this thing started, it would be chaotic, and he didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the press of competitors.

  The herald raised a flag on high, waving it around to get everybody's attention, then swept it down, signalling the battle to commence.

  A group of six warriors rushed across the field in a line, taking down two men before they even had a chance to ready themselves. They soon reached the other end of the field, only to come into sharp conflict with another group, hardened warriors by the look of them.

  Ludwig cursed as he put his shield up just in time to block a swing, but his distraction had cost him, and he felt the blow knock him back into the railing. Planting his feet, he struck out with his sword, thrusting it into his attacker's stomach. The man let out a grunt, then backed up, allowing Ludwig room to step forward with a slash of his sword. His foe stumbled, and when his boot sank into the mud, the unfortunate man fell onto his back, knocking him from the competition.

  Hearing a noise to his left, Ludwig wheeled around only to find Cyn using her shield to protect herself from a rain of blows. He struck while her opponent was distracted, swinging out at the man’s legs. He felt the blade scrape along metal greaves, then the man fell, forced from his standing position.

  Someone bumped Ludwig from behind, and he stumbled forward, desperate to stay afoot. His opponent pushed him again, but Ludwig managed to turn in time to see Cyn strike the man's helm with her mace. It rang out like a bell, and then the man turned on her. She, however, struck again with lightning speed, using her shield to smash into his gut and push him backward.

  Ludwig reacted instantly by sidestepping, then thrust his leg out, trying to trip the fellow. The tactic worked, and the warrior fell face-first into the mud as Ludwig turned, ready to face a new opponent. Even though his helmet protected him, it severely restricted his vision, causing him to struggle for a moment to find a suitable foe.

  A shield smash against his back forced him forward, his boots sinking into the mud, threatening to topple him. He managed to extricate his right foot, planting it before him to avoid catastrophe. He turned to see Cyn’s downed opponent once more on his feet.

  Ludwig raised his shield while readying his sword for a blow, but the Temple Knights had witnessed the exchange, and two of them pushed through the crowd, grabbing the man by the arms and hauling him away.

  The press of combatants was getting fiercer. Ludwig had hoped to stay near its periphery, but the battle appeared to have a mind of its own. Every time he attempted to move outward, someone else would attack, forcing him back into the melee. He tried to keep close to Cyn, but she was having troubles of her own as the mud was treacherous, churned up by the warriors' heavy boots as they all fought for the prize.

  Ludwig struck out, driving a foe backwards, and then advanced to take his place. The strategy was to outlast all the others, and so to this end, he placed his back to his ally; she doing the same.

  A man barrelled into him, knocking him from his feet. Only his back hitting that of Cyn's stopped him from tumbling into the mud. He spread his stance, trying desperately to gain more solid footing.

  His shield splintered as a blow landed, the jolt of the impact running up his arm. Shaking it off, Ludwig gripped his sword in both hands and swung, feeling the shock as his blade struck that of his attacker's. Back and forth went their blows, the sound drowned out by the hue and cry of the grand melee. Ludwig's opponent lunged forward, but then his feet went out from under him, and he fell to the ground with a splash.

  A yell from Cyn caused Ludwig to whirl about only to find she had been driven to her knees under the relentless assault of a man with a greatsword, and even as he turned to help, she went sprawling. Not content with simply eliminating her from the tournament, her attacker stepped forward, raising his sword for a devastating overhead blow.

  Down came the weapon, but Ludwig was there, deflecting the assault with his own blade. They both stumbled back, trying to gain some traction in the endless muck and mire, and then the Temple Knights appeared, dragging the warrior away.

  Wildy looking around, Ludwig spotted Cyn, limping from the field, and then his attention shifted back to the great melee. The battleground was clearing rapidly, the fighting growing less intense. Ludwig’s arms ached, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Moving through the cloying mud was almost as tiring as the fight itself, and he cursed himself for agreeing to enter in the first place.

  A warrior stumbled by, his leg bleeding profusely. Ludwig watched him as he reached the fence and then returned his attention to the fray. His distraction cost him dearly, though, because someone, taking advantage of his lapse, leaped onto his back and starting raining down blows down upon his helmet.

  Ludwig staggered, doing everything he could to remain on his feet. He tried crouching, then turned suddenly, throwing his attacker off his perch. He saw his foe land with a splash, the man's part in the competition now at an end.

  With his ears still ringing from the blows to his head, he spotted another warrior heading directly for him. Ludwig raised his sword yet again, feeling the burn in his muscles as he took a step, meeting the man halfway, their weapons striking each other in unison. The dull clang rang out, and then they were sword to sword, each trying to force the other back through brute strength.

  Ludwig sidestepped, sweeping his blade down, forcing his opponent's weapon aside to leave the warrior open to attack. Ludwig quickly struck, his sword crashing into the man's shoulder, but only glancing off his pauldron. Even though his strike was weak, his foe had apparently had enough and dropped to his knees, calling for quarter.

  A yell came from Ludwig's left, and he twisted as a warrior in a blue surcoat barrelled into him. Ludwig tried to step back, but the mud sucked at his feet, and he lost his balance, feeling the squish of mud as he landed flat on his back, where he remained, overcome with emotion. The fight was over, and he had lost.

  When the crowd suddenly roared, he lifted his head to see what the commotion was all about. The blue surcoat was bashing away at a warrior in a chainmail jacket. The two traded blow after blow, each weaker than the last, until the one in chainmail finally knelt in surrender.

  Ludwig got to his feet and started making his way over to the perimeter. Just as he was about to exit, a Temple Knight directed his attention to the stands where a herald waited by the edge of the field. Before him stood the man in the blue surcoat, ready to receive his prize, along with his chain-clad opponent who had obviously come in second. As Ludwig approached, it dawned on him that no other warriors were present—it appeared he had managed to fight his way into third place.

/>   He swayed, barely able to stay on his feet as the announcements were made, then a purse was thrust into his hands, the crowd exploding into a cacophony of cheers. His knees weakened, and then he was surrounded by people slapping his back and offering congratulations. Desperate to suck in some fresh air, he pulled off his helmet, and Sigwulf grabbed his arms to steady him.

  “You did it!” the man bellowed.

  Ludwig was too tired to reply.

  7

  Celebration

  Spring 1095 SR

  * * *

  Ludwig took another swig of ale, desperately trying to remain awake. Surrounding him were the Grim Defenders, celebrating his accomplishment. His winnings had been small, enough to last him a month if he was lucky, but many of the mercenaries had wagered on his success, and they were now in a good mood and wanted to spend their ill-gotten gains.

  Sigwulf slapped him on the back. “That was quite the fight. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “So it was,” added Brother Vernan. “Saint Mathew certainly had you under his gaze this day.”

  “It wasn’t Saint Mathew,” said Cyn. “It was me!” They all cheered, raising a cup once more.

  Ludwig felt his head nodding and quickly snapped his eyes open, but then the faces surrounding him began to turn fuzzy. Slowly, his head tilted back, a loud snore escaping his lips.

  * * *

  He awoke to see Brother Vernan looking down at him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” said Ludwig. “How long have I been out?”

  “All night, and the better part of this morning.”

  Struggling to sit up, he looked around to see he was lying on a rough straw mat in a small tent. “Where am I?”

  “In the camp of the Grim Defenders. They brought you here after you passed out.”

  “Am I sick?”

  “No,” said Brother Vernan, “merely tired from your exertions. The melee took a lot out of you.”

  Ludwig reached for his purse, only to find it missing.

  “Fear not,” said the Holy Brother. “Your winnings are secure. We thought it best to hide them away while you slept.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Safely locked up in the captain's strongbox. I witnessed it myself. Your armour is there as well, along with your sword and the rest of your meagre belongings.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” Ludwig stammered out.

  “You were brought here after you passed out. These people look on you fondly, Ludwig. They have only your best interests at heart.”

  “I must find some way to repay that friendship.”

  “You can start by talking to Captain Ecke. He’s asked to see you.”

  “I doubt he needs me to train Cyn anymore. The competition is over.”

  “I cannot speak of his motives, but I believe it’s in your best interest to hear the man out. You may discover he has something else in mind.”

  “What of you, Brother Vernan? I suppose with the tournament over, you’ll be returning to the mission in Torburg?”

  A smile crept over the lay brother. “My superiors have other things in mind for me, but there are more important things for you to consider at this moment. We must get you cleaned up so you can see what Captain Ecke wants.” He shuffled across the room, returning a moment later with a bowl of water and a towel. “Here, have a good wash and clear your head. I shall wait for you outside.”

  Ludwig took the offering, splashing some water onto his face. Though his muscles ached, his recent success had given him a sense of accomplishment. For the first time in months, he felt ready to take on the world, come what may. He towelled himself off, then rose, making his way outside.

  Brother Vernan was in conversation with Cyn, but his arrival put such thoughts from their heads.

  “The captain wants to see you now,” said Cyn. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. Lead on.”

  They made their way through the camp, Brother Vernan lagging slightly behind. Several mercenaries waved as they passed, but Ludwig’s attention was on the distant tent occupied by the commander of this company. They soon arrived, and Cyn pulled back the canvas, allowing them entry.

  Captain Waldemar Ecke sat, looking up as they entered. “Sir Ludwig, good of you to come and see me. Can I offer you a drink?”

  “No, thank you,” said Ludwig. “I’m told you wanted to see me?”

  “Ah, straight to the point, I see. When we last spoke, I told you how this company came to be.”

  “Not exactly,” corrected Ludwig. “You told me WHEN you created it, not the details of how or why.”

  Ecke smiled. “I can see you’re a man of intelligence. What do you know of the free companies?”

  “Not much, I must confess. They’re all mercenaries, each under the command of a different leader. Of course, the term company is almost meaningless since they range in numbers so greatly. Some of them are said to be the size of small armies.”

  “All of that is true. The Grim Defenders, for example, number some seventy warriors of late, although they have, at times, been almost twice that number.”

  Ludwig showed surprise. “You’ve taken losses?”

  “Not precisely. Some men join to earn a few coins, others to travel. I generally don’t care what a person's reason is for becoming a member of our esteemed group, as long as they pull their weight. In times of relative peace, such as we find ourselves in now, some get bored and leave us, travelling instead to a place of greater conflict in the hopes of gaining more profitable employment.”

  “In other words,” said Ludwig, “the company is currently unemployed.”

  “Indeed it is, but I’m hoping that will soon change. I have, this day, received word from someone named Lord Gebhard Stein. Have you heard of him?”

  “I can’t say I have.”

  “He’s the Baron of Mulsingen, a town that lies some eighty miles to the east. It would appear he has a dispute with one of his neighbours over something or other. To be honest, the letter doesn’t go into any specifics, but he wishes to discuss terms of employment. To that end, I shall be marching the Grim Defenders in a few days. I’d like you to accompany us.”

  “You wish me to join?”

  “Not precisely,” said the captain. “I lack the funds for that, but your expertise might prove to be of some use.”

  “Might I offer a solution?” said Cyn.

  Ecke looked at the woman, leaving Ludwig to wonder if this interaction had been planned all along.

  “Speak your mind,” said the captain.

  “Why not take him into the fold as an apprentice? The company would be responsible for feeding and clothing him but wouldn’t have to put out any coins until we get a signed contract with the baron.”

  Ecke pursed his lips. “I might consider it.” He turned to Ludwig. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  “I’m of two minds,” said Ludwig. “On the one hand, I have to wonder why you would be making me this offer. I hardly have the experience to warrant the attention.”

  “I saw you in the melee,” said the captain. “You proved you can handle yourself in a fight. And on the other hand?”

  Ludwig smiled. “I find myself with nothing to do for the foreseeable future, so I am available.”

  “Then you are amenable to the matter?”

  “I am, though I would know at what rate I would eventually be paid.”

  The captain grinned. “As a new recruit, you’d receive one share of whatever I manage to negotiate with the baron.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. How many shares are there?”

  “One per member of the company.”

  “And ten for the captain,” added Cyn, “but that’s after expenses, of course.”

  “Expenses?” said Ludwig.

  “Yes,” agreed Captain Ecke. “We still need to eat, and that means purchasing food. Of course, then there’s upkeep and maintenance.”

  Ludwig’s face be
trayed his ignorance.

  “We have to pay smiths,” offered Cyn, “to maintain the weapons and armour, not to mention all the others a company needs to survive.”

  “Others?”

  “Yes," added the captain. "Drovers, so we have fresh meat, men to drive the wagons that haul our supplies, fletchers and bowyers to maintain our weapons…”

  “Now you’re making things up,” said Ludwig. “I’ve seen this camp of yours, and I know you don’t have archers.”

  “That’s true, at the moment, but I’m hoping to expand in the future.”

  “So what you’re really saying is after all that, whatever’s left gets divided up amongst us according to our shares?”

  “Precisely.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a lot.”

  “It’s not,” said Cyn, “but it pays for the occasional ale. What we honestly need is a nice war, then the coins will start flowing.”

  “Yes,” agreed Ludwig, “but so will the risk. I gather a free company is only as good as its last battle.”

  “I see you’ve thought this through,” the captain remarked.

  “How many battles have the Grim Defenders seen?”

  “Three,” said Ecke. “Though I must confess, two of those were more like skirmishes. Still, it was enough to get us the attention of the baron.”

  “But you’ve had experience with other companies?”

  “I have, too many to count, in fact, but I grew tired of the way they were conducting themselves. That’s what led me to form the Grim Defenders.”

  “Just so I’m clear,” said Ludwig, “how does this company run?”

  The captain looked puzzled. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  “What is the command structure?”

  “It’s quite simple, honestly. I'm the captain. Everyone else is next in line.”

  “And if you should be injured or killed?”

  “Then it shall no longer be my problem,” said Ecke.