Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) (17 page)

Keeping one hand on the dagger handle, Thomas leaned
over and grabbed a handful of Salvatore’s thick hair. He slammed
the man’s head into the table and then pressed his cheek into the
hard surface so that he could see his hand skewered in place. Like
lava, blood seeped out of the wound and ran down the sides of
Salvatore’s hand. And when Thomas leaned the blade to one side, it
very well could have been lava seeping into his flesh the way
Salvatore screamed.

Thomas allowed the blade to stand up straight, and
Salvatore quieted down. His eyes were still clenched shut, however,
and tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Do not move,” Thomas said. He spoke to Salvatore,
but he fixed his eyes on the other two Venetians who were still
seated across from Noll.

“I think he means you two,” Noll said. Their eyes
looked at their master being pummeled on the floor, across at
Thomas resting his hand on Salvatore’s bloody dagger, and then at
one another. As one they held up their hands to show they were
unarmed and intended to stay that way.

Noll eased himself away from the table and walked to
where Anton had just delivered one last knee into the moaning form
of Pomponio. Rivers of blood ran from his nose, one corner of his
mouth, and from cuts around his eyes. One side of his face was
purple and had already puffed up to almost twice its original
size.

Noll drew his own sword and put it against the
Venetian’s throat. Pomponio moaned.

“Dead,” Noll said. “Oh so very dead, no?”

***

Noll decided to keep the Venetians’ horses in
exchange for an open clapboard wagon pulled by two nags. While
Thomas, Anton, and a dozen of Noll’s men stood nearby, Pomponio’s
men loaded him and a still-groaning Salvatore into the back. Noll
tossed Pomponio’s hat into the back of the wagon and it hit
Pomponio in the face. He grimaced as he was forced to move his
broken wrist, which he held tightly against his chest.

“I will have men following you with crossbows. If
you stop before the top of the pass, I have ordered them to shoot,”
Noll said.

Pomponio’s face was beginning to bruise over and
swell from Anton’s beating. He mumbled at Noll through his
stiffened jaw.

“The Austrians will see you get what you deserve.
Come summer, I will be drinking to your demise, young
Melchthal.”

Noll cut him off by slapping one of the horses. The
wagon lurched into motion and both Salvatore and Pomponio grunted
in pain. They watched in silence as the slow moving wagon crawled
up the road, headed toward Saint Gotthard’s Pass.

Before it disappeared from sight, Noll turned to
Thomas.

“We should discuss the training regimen. The next
session was scheduled for the day after tomorrow by Pomponio.
Unfortunately, the men have already been told, so we will have to
stick with that. Too bad.”

Thomas nodded. Noll was about to hear something else
he would not like.

“On that day, we will need to make a list with every
man’s name on it. And they will have to mark it. If any man misses
training he will be punished. And I want to know exactly how many
men we have and what weapons or armor they bring with them.”

“Fair enough,” Noll said. “Then what?”

“We will divide the men into units. Half will
participate in martial training and the other half will work on
constructing the defenses,” Thomas said. “They will switch every
two days.”

“That is a sound plan. The men will learn better in
smaller groups. Tell me what sort of structures we will be working
on so I can line up tradesmen and tools.”

“The fortress wall,” Thomas said.

“It is finished already,” Noll said. “You want to
add to it?”

“We must tear it down.”

Noll laughed. “What? And rebuild it thicker?
Higher?”

“No. Just tear it down. But try not to damage the
materials too badly. We may need them.”

Thomas began walking away.

Noll was no longer laughing. “You jest.”

Thomas stopped and shook his head. “We have no hope
of defending that structure. No sense leaving it standing for the
Austrians to use against us in the future.”

“Are you mad? It is a fortress! The only one we
have, I might add. It represents the greatest victory we have ever
made over the Habsburgs. ”

“The only one, actually,” Thomas said.

“I refuse to give it up. I will find the men to
defend its walls.”

Thomas stepped in close. He kept his voice low so no
one could overhear.

“Not with ten thousand men could you do that. And
you have what, five hundred?”

One end of Noll’s mouth lifted in a sneer, so Thomas
continued.

“You know nothing of siege warfare. The Austrians
would surround the fortress, cut off your food supply, bribe
someone to poison your well, and wait. For months. Years even. Half
your men starve, most of the others are so weakened with gut-rot
they cannot even keep down dry bread, if they can get any.
Eventually, you turn on one another. Begin eating your dead. In the
end, you throw open the gates and beg Leopold to save you from your
own men.”

Noll pushed Thomas away. He ground his teeth and
stared at the Hospitaller, but eventually, what Thomas said found
its way through his anger.

“It is the only stronghold we have,” Noll
repeated.

Thomas held up his hands. “Then you defend its
walls. But I warn you, it is a death trap. You swore you would not
question me. That I could run this army how I saw fit. If you have
had a change of heart, I would know it now.”

After a long moment Noll gave a curt nod.

“Very well. We will tear it down. But know this. I
would slit my own throat before I would beg anything from Leopold
of Habsburg.”

Thomas let out a sigh. “I have seen stronger men
than you fight over the boiled knuckles of a fallen comrade. Do not
be so quick to preach of your convictions.”

“Preach? Look who rants on about the end of the
whole world like some crazy monk!”

Not the end of the whole world. Just ours.

Thomas was about to say more, but he noticed Noll’s
eyes were focused on something behind Thomas.

“Uh, oh. Here comes Seraina,” he said. “And she does
not look happy.”

Thomas turned just in time to get her finger jabbed
into his chest.

“I thought at least one man of god could be beyond
lies!” she said.

She jabbed him again. “You swore to me Thomas. I
should have known better than to trust the word of any man.
Especially one brought up by the Church. And you,” she turned and
withered Noll with a furious glare.

“Me? What have I done?” Noll said.

“How could you ask him to lead the defenses? You
know what I saw. You know what will happen to him if he stays in
Altdorf!”

Her voice verged on hysteria. Thomas sensed she was
about to run off, so he grabbed her arms and turned her toward him.
“Seraina, listen to me. I did not lie.”

“You did.” She struggled in his grip and refused to
meet his eyes.

“I promised I would not stand upon the walls of the
Altdorf fortress when the Austrians attack. And that is a promise I
intend to keep.”

Seraina wiped at her cheek. She looked at Thomas,
her eyes red-rimmed slits.

“How can I believe you?” she asked.

“Oh, you can believe him,” Noll said, shaking his
head like he could still not believe it himself. “For in a few
weeks time those walls will be nothing but rubble.”

She looked from man to man. “What do you mean? And
do not bandy your words any more than you already have.”

“We will leave the keep itself standing over the
winter, so the men have shelter, but I intend to see that fortress
destroyed,” Thomas said. “Before it destroys us.”

“But how will we defend ourselves?” Seraina
asked.

“Now there is a fair question,” Noll said.

“We will rebuild the line of ancient forts we passed
on our journey together.”

Seraina blinked and her mouth opened but no words
came forth.

“You mean the overgrown rubble piles to the north of
Schwyz?” Noll said.

Thomas nodded.

Noll turned a full circle and threw up his hands.
“Now I know you have lost your mind! Those are ant hills and fox
dens. They have not been
forts
, by any stretch of the word,
for centuries.”

“They will be once we relocate the stones and
timbers from Altdorf.”

“But how will a few hastily built forts be more
effective than an already completed fortress?” Seraina asked.

Thomas drew his dagger, flipped it over in his hand,
and crouched low to the ground. Using the handle, not the blade, he
began drawing in the dirt.

“Leopold will come from the north and most probably
take the town of Schwyz. From there he can resupply and march on to
Altdorf. If we construct a series of stone barricades and wooden
palisades above and to the west of Schwyz, we can fight a
retreating battle from one wall to the next.”

As he drew more lines and X’s, his dagger handle
picked up speed, as did his words. He took a breath to slow himself
down. “If we stagger them properly, we will always be able to
attack him from two sides and never allow either his cavalry or
infantry to achieve proper formations. We could never hope to face
the Habsburg army head on. Outflanking them at every turn is our
only hope.” He stabbed one last time at the ground and looked
up.

Noll and Seraina’s eyes were wide and they glanced
at one another. Seraina smiled.

“I have no idea what you just said, ferryman, but
you do draw a pretty picture,” Noll said.

As the men filtered into the courtyard, Thomas saw
the puzzled glances, darting eyes, and hushed voices questioning
one another about the whereabouts of the Venetians. They knew
something had changed. As those few, who had been at the inn two
nights before, eagerly shared what they had seen, the noise of
conversation began to rise.

Thomas wondered just how far the story had strayed
from the truth. Judging from some of the wide-eyed glances he and
Anton were getting from men, he suspected a fair ways.

Noll picked up a horn and blew a lingering note that
brought silence to the crowd.

“The Venetians are gone,” he said. “They should have
never been here in the first place. And that is my fault. I should
have known better than to put my faith in outsiders. From this
moment on, the ferryman will command this army and see to its
training. Now, those who are still with us, line up and be
counted.”

No one cheered, or applauded, at the news, but not a
single man left the courtyard. And throughout the day, at one time
or another, Thomas would receive a back-slap or a ‘well-done’ nod
from nearly every one of the five hundred men present, starting
with a certain innkeeper from Schwyz.

The day wore on as Thomas, Noll, and Anton sat on a
log with a never-ending line of men stretched out before them. With
quill in hand, Thomas leaned over a sawed-off log end that served
as a desk. Each man shuffled forward, stated his name, and answered
any questions he was asked. Then Thomas would scratch his name onto
one of several yellowed sheets of parchment that Furst had
provided.

“Name?”

“Marti Rubin.”

Thomas looked up at the young man. He had red hair
and his fair skin was tanned and heavily freckled from spending a
great deal of time outside. Thomas was sure he had already seen him
today.

“Were you not already here?”

“No, sir.”

Noll chuckled. “That was his brother. Marti and Sepp
are twins.”

Thomas shuffled through the parchment pages until he
found the one with Sepp Rubin’s name on it. Each page represented a
unit that would train, build, and fight alongside one another. Many
years ago he had learned that it was best to avoid having brothers
on the same squad, but to never separate twins. They had an eerie
way of reading one another’s thoughts and did wonders for a group’s
cohesiveness.

He wrote Marti’s name beside his brother’s, then
re-dipped his quill and held it out to the young man.

“Make your mark,” he said.

Marti took the feather in his fist and stared at
what Thomas had just written. “How do I know that is my name?”

“It is yours,” Noll said. “And right next to it is
your brother’s.”

Marti screwed up his face as he examined them side
by side. His face lit up and a self-satisfied grin took over his
freckled features. “Mine is prettier,” he said.

“Because you are the better looking one,” Noll said.
“Now scratch your mark and move on. We have two hundred more to go
this afternoon. Next!”

A young boy appeared. He looked hauntingly familiar
to Thomas, but he could not quite place him, until he saw Vex,
Pirmin’s dog, beside him. The boy was the one he had seen at
Pirmin’s grave.

“Who are you signing up Matthias, you or the dog?”
Noll asked.

“Who do you think?”

“Well, do not look at me. It is Thomas that you have
to plead with,” Noll said.

The boy, who was not older than eight or nine,
turned to Thomas. “I want to sign up,” he said.

“How old are you boy?” Thomas asked.

“Fourteen,” he said.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Does this look like an
army of liars to you?”

Matthias glanced over at Noll. “Could be,” he
said.

Noll laughed. “You will have your hands full if you
take on this one,” he said to Thomas.

“Why do you want to join this army?” Thomas
asked.

“I am going to kill Duke Leopold.”

Thomas could not keep the hint of a grin from taking
over his face. Noll chuckled. Matthias looked back and forth
between the two men. “I mean it! I do not care if you let me into
your army or not. I am going to stick my sword in his neck and
watch him bleed to death!”