Forged in Battle (4 page)

“You would be dead,” Sigmund said. “Now, what were you doing
on the road at night?”

The smaller man gave the halberdier a look that suggested he
had no right to question him. “What business is it of yours?”

“I am Marshal of Helmstrumburg,” Sigmund said.

The smaller man gave an affected titter.

“Marshal? Can’t you afford a proper uniform?”

Sigmund ignored the jibe. “What business do you have in
Helmstrumburg?”

It was the other man, with the pistols, who spoke next. “I
apologise, marshal. We have a message of some import to deliver.”

“Who to?”

“That, I believe,” the smaller man said, “is none of your
business.”

Sigmund refused to rise to the insult, but Edmunt took a step
forward. Gunter put his hand out to stop him. The Reiklander looked up at the
towering woodsman with a mixture of amusement and fascination.

“Are you going to attack the cousin of Baron von Kohl?”

Sigmund stared at him for a moment then turned his back on
the merchants deliberately. “Gunter!” Sigmund called his sergeant forward. The
grizzled veteran’s beard looked even more silvered in the lamplight. “Take five
men and bury these bodies. Edmunt organise the rest. We’ll escort these,” he
paused and indicated towards the two merchants, “two to town.”

Elias was still standing with his sword drawn, his hands
shaking uncontrollably.

“You can put that away now,” Sigmund said. Elias nodded but
did not move. “The sword,” Sigmund said, “you can put it away now.”

Elias reddened and slid the blade into his scabbard.

“Where’s your halberd?”

Elias looked back towards the carriages, where the beastman he had killed was
still pinned to the painted woodwork.

“Let’s go get it,” Edmunt said and led the boy back to the
farthest carriage, where the beastman had been impaled through the shoulder. The
body hung off-centre, Edmunt pulled the blade free and clapped Elias on the
shoulder.

“Looks like you got one!” Sigmund said and gave him back his halberd.

Elias nodded. I got two, he thought. I got two, he told himself and
grinned.

When the beastmen corpses were dumped to the side of the
road, Elias could not resist going to have a look. They were not much larger
than children, with the beginnings of horns through the matt of fur, like young
kids. Apart from the vertical pupils and the needle-sharp teeth, they had a
strange beauty about them.

“Just wait till you see the big ones!” Freidel told him as he
threw the last corpse onto the pile. “There’s nothing pretty about them!”

Edmunt took a cloth and dipped it into the blood of a beastman.

The men chuckled as the new boy was pushed forward. Edmunt smeared blood on
both Elias’ cheeks.

“Now!” he said. “You’re a real halberdier!”

Gunter’s men were assigned the job of burying the dead. They
set to with crude picks, scraping away half a foot of dead leaves and then
moving away as much earth as they could before they hit a tangle of roots.

“That’s enough!” Gunter said. The halberdiers took each dead
man by the feet, dragged them over to the pit and dropped them in. The dead
coachman’s neck had been cut through almost to the bone. His head flopped
unnaturally as they put him down.

Gaston leaned down to straighten the head.

“Why did you do that?” Schwartz said as they walked to get
the next. “It won’t make any difference where he’s gone.”

“I’ll remember not to do it for you.”

“Now I didn’t say that,” Schwartz said as they lifted the
guard from the back of the coach. The dead man’s hands still gripped the
blunderbuss. He looked to have been in the process of reloading when a spear
thrust had run him through.

He was fatter than the coachman. Gaston and Schwartz lifted
him like the others, but there was a grunt, and they dropped the body in
surprise.

“He’s still alive,” Gaston said.

“Never!”

The man’s guts were spilling out from under his shirt. Belly
wounds were the slowest and most painful sort. Better cut your throat than wait
to die of a gut wound.

Gaston drew his knife and held the blade over the man’s mouth
for a few moments. When he took it away there was a film of condensation.

“He’s breathing,” Gaston said.

“Poor bastard,” Schwartz said.

Gaston sighed. There was no point taking the man with them.
He’d die if they tried to move him. If they left him where he was then he’d die
anyway.

“We can’t bury him alive,” Gaston said, and bent over the
man’s head.

When Gaston stood up the man’s neck had been slashed. The
deep cut oozed fresh blood. Gaston wiped his knife on the guard’s coat. He and
Schwartz mumbled a quick prayer to Morr, then lifted the dead man and laid him
on top of his erstwhile companions.

The last to go into the pit was Petr. Baltzer went through
his pockets and took out a silver hammer from the thong on his neck.

“For his family,” Baltzer said but no one took much notice.
None of them knew who his family were. As long as Baltzer didn’t go near their
pockets they were fine.

By the time they had finished disposing of the bodies,
Morrslieb was rising up through the dark trees trunks.

“Hurry now!” Gunter shouted as they shovelled the dirt back
over them all, then they piled up stones and branches to stop wild animals from
digging the bodies up again.

The merchants’ belongings consisted of some wooden crates and
heavy packs.

“Get these men’s bags!” Osric shouted but no one volunteered.
“Come on! Freidel! Elias! You two!” he shouted, meaning Schwartz, a stable lad
before he joined up, and Kann—a quiet man who had been friends with the man
they had just buried. “Pick this stuff up!”

Baltzer started to chuckle as Freidel lifted one of the
satchels onto his shoulders. Elias lifted a case, but as he did so he felt a
stabbing pain in his arm and dropped the crate.

“Careful!” Gunter cursed, but when Elias tried to lift it
again his arm refused to take the weight.

“He’s wounded!” Freidel called out and the men gathered round
and saw the slash on the underside of Elias’ jacket: the spreading stain of
blood.

Gunter hurried over to inspect his new lad. The cut was not
too deep, but it was bleeding freely. “Freidel—bind this up!”

Freidel took a dirty strip of cloth and bound it around
Elias’ arm. Elias could barely feel the pain. He could still feel his heart
racing.

Freidel tied a knot in the cloth and Elias dropped his arm to
his side. “Is it bad?”

Freidel told him, “Don’t worry, you’ll live.”

Once they had walked a little way along the road Edmunt began
to get a sense of their bearings. They were higher up the valley than he had
thought. It was only a few miles down the road to Gruff Spennsweich’s farm.

They paused to pass the merchants’ belongings around, and as
soon as the loads were redistributed Sigmund was off again, with Edmunt at the
front.

Elias felt the blood on his cheeks drying to a scab. He put
his hand to his face and looked at the blood on his fingertips. It was red, just
like human blood.

He swallowed. He was disappointed with his first battle. He’d
been terrified. The thought of being in combat again made him start to sweat.

“Come on, wounded soldier,” Gaston encouraged and Elias
forced a smile and went in front of him.

Sigmund led them down the road towards Farmer Spennsweich’s
farm. Osric’s company led, Gunter’s followed. Even though it was dark, the men’s
legs swung freely now, and they made good going.

The trees pressed in on either side, dark and silent. The men
strained their eyes in case one of the shadows should leap out in ambush—but
nothing moved and this time no alarms were given.

The road dipped down and forded a stream. They splashed
through the water and climbed up a gentle rise. The closer to the top they came
the stronger was the faint smell of wood smoke and cooking. Many of the men
expected to find the place devastated, like the farm they had seen earlier that
day—so when they saw the lights inside the shutters and the thread of pale
grey smoke hanging over the cabin, there was a noticeable wave of relief. The
soldiers laughed and joked and Baltzer suggested Freidel ask how much Gruff’s
daughters were for the night.

Gruff Spennsweich sat by the door, a piece of straw in his
mouth and the loaded blunderbuss across his knees. He had chewed the end down to
a sodden mess of fibres and spat it onto the floor.

Valina didn’t like him spitting in the house, but he was too
preoccupied to notice her frown.

When they heard the tramp of many footsteps Beatrine gasped.
“What’s that?”

Gruff Spennsweich had worked all these years to raise his
family and now savage animals—animals with just enough intelligence to
understand hatred and vengeance and cruelty—were coming to kill all his pretty
daughters. He stood holding the blunderbuss, both hands shaking as he checked
the bolts on the doorway, then opened the shutters on the window and thrust the
gun out.

“Get off my land!” he bellowed. “Or I’ll blow you back to
your damned pits!”

Osric saw the gun first and ducked and then all the
halberdiers started to run for cover.

“Farmer Spennsweich!” Sigmund shouted and the blunderbuss
waved in his direction for a moment. “Farmer Spennsweich it is Captain Jorg of
the Helmstrumburg Halberdiers!”

There was a curse from inside the farm and the blunderbuss
was withdrawn. Osric started laughing and all of a sudden the tension of the
day’s march disappeared and they all started laughing.

After introductions, Gruff sent Dietrik out to show the
halberdiers where they could sleep for the night.

The barn was split level, with crude wooden enclosures for
the livestock. On the top floor straw and sacks were piled up. The press of
animal bodies meant the air was warmer, but also was strongly scented with
manure, straw and tightly pressed livestock. Dietrik herded the five cows into
one of the enclosures and they jostled against each other, nervously attempting
to turn to watch the men come in. The halberdiers piled their packs against the
wall.

The men climbed the ladder up to the second level and threw
armfuls of straw over the floor, then spread their cloaks over it to make crude
beds.

Dietrik came back and Gruff told him to tap a firkin of ale
for the men to drink. Valina selected a pair of hams that were drying in the
upstairs room and Dietrik carried them out one at a time to the barn. The men
started to carve the meat up, chewing the salty meat slowly as the beer was left
to settle. Dietrik brought all of Farmer Spennsweich’s best pewter tankards
which were then filled and passed around.

As the halberdiers relaxed and toasted the generosity of
their host, the cows slowly settled down and began to chew their cud.

Outside, the moons cast enough light to illuminate the
farmstead. There was a vegetable patch behind the house. The barns were on the
other side of the yard. They created a “U” shaped compound that was typical of
the more isolated farmsteads, the three buildings creating a wall that made the
settlement far more defensible.

Osric’s men were on sentry duty. Due to the danger of a
beastman attack the sentries were doubled.

Elias, Schwartz and Kann stuck together as they patrolled
round the back. Baltzer and a pair of brothers, Friedrik and Frantz, stood at
the gateway, staring down the road that they had come on. The woods were silent,
but an occasional bat swooped down around their heads.

Baltzer’s nerves were on edge. There was a loud rustle of
branches.

“What was that?” he asked.

The rustling continued. It sounded like something large,
crashing through the undergrowth. Baltzer’s fear was contagious. Soon all three
of them were standing alert, their halberd blades pointing into the darkness,
but the crashing stopped and a long silence followed.

“Do you think it was anything?” Frantz asked.

“Could have been a bird,” Friedrik suggested hopefully.

Baltzer didn’t want to talk about it. His eyes were straining
to catch the slightest movement. Frantz yawned and then Friedrik yawned too.

“Will you shut up!” Baltzer hissed.

“Anything?” Kann asked when they had completed a circuit.

“We heard something,” Friedrik said. “Seen anything?”

The other men shook their heads. Baltzer stood a little way
off. This would be the best moment to attack, when the sentries were distracted—but however hard he stared at the moonlit tree-line, he could see nothing.

When the soldiers had been fed and watered, Gruff locked and
bolted the doors and windows and made all the girls bring their mattresses into
the living room where he could watch them. Beatrine huffed as she helped the
twins lug the mattress the three of them shared from their bedroom. Gertrude was
too young to know what was happening. She held her sister’s hand.

Valina looked at her father, embarrassed by him. “They’re not
criminals,” she said but Gruff didn’t pay any notice. He had no intention of
saving his daughters from beastmen, just to see them plundered by halberdiers.

After they had drunk the beer was down to the yeasty dregs,
the halberdiers lay on their cloaks and slept. Gunter’s men were upstairs in the
straw, while Osric’s men were down next to the cows.

Sigmund and Edmunt stayed up, their faces bottom lit by the
fire.

“It’s not like beastmen to come so far down the hills.
They’ve always kept themselves to the high lands. I never heard of them coming
down in herds like this,” Edmunt said.

“Why do you think they came so far down?” Sigmund asked.

Edmunt shrugged.

“The ones we killed. Do you think they were the ones from
Osman’s farm?”