Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) (6 page)

Was the old goat actually hiding a smirk?

The Archbishop opened his mouth to speak, and then
stopped himself for a moment before finally continuing on. He
looked like a man about to eat a roast pheasant, but could not
quite decide which wing to tear off first.

“Regrettably, all of Salzburg’s military forces are
already committed to the King’s cause. I have my own writ from the
King that I must follow. You see, Salzburg is to be kept as a place
of strength should Frederich need to withdraw from the war with the
Bavarian for a time. The King has commanded me to ensure all of
Salzburg’s soldiers are available to him at a moment’s notice. All
of them. God forbid that should ever happen, of course.”

You dung-eating buggerer of….

“So the answer to your question, Duke Leopold, is
regrettably, not a one.”

The Archbishop leaned back into the leather of his
bench and crossed his arms. He shook his head in a display of
regret, but the thin smile on his lips told another story
entirely.

***

“In all your years, have you ever known a more
repugnant, holier than thou, greedy, arse licker? Have you?” Duke
Leopold asked.

“Yes, my lord. Several,” Klaus said.

Dressed in only his nightshirt, Leopold paced laps
around his assigned room. Klaus was sure it must be the smallest
guest quarters in Salzburg Castle. He thought of mentioning that to
the Duke, but quickly changed his mind. Klaus did not know of
another man Duke Leopold hated more than the Archbishop of
Salzburg, and fanning those flames would not be wise.

Leopold puffed up his face and squinted his eyes.
“
So the answer, Duke Leopold, is not a one.
How long did he
practice to get that pompous tone just right? And what cruel
bastard ever decided someone could be both a prince and a
bishop?”

“Your grandfather, I believe,” Klaus said.
God
rest his soul.

“Well, that explains it. Yet another failing of dear
old grand pappy that I have to live with. If I did not need the
Arsebishop’s cavalry I would have spit in his face right then and
there. And watched it drip down his double chin onto his precious
red robes. Really, why should a cleric be in charge of some of the
best soldiers in the Empire? Who decided that?”

“Your grandfather as well,” Klaus said.

“The man was truly an idiot.”

Klaus said nothing. He stood ramrod straight, with
his hands behind his back, and eyes in front.

“Well, what do we do now Klaus? Go back to his
holiness tomorrow and beg for his cavalry?”

Klaus shook his head. “We do not need his soldiers,
my lord.”

“No, we do not
need
them, Klaus. I
want
them. When we march into Schwyz and Altdorf, we must do
so with a full display of Habsburg might. I want drummers, trumpet
men, infantry, and if I can’t have the Sturmritter, I want the next
best thing. And that, sadly, is the Arsebishop’s cavalry. And now
that he has told me I cannot have them I want them even more!”

Leopold grabbed a pitcher of wine from the bedside
table and filled a mug. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. He
was about to take a drink and then groaned and threw it against the
wall.

“Probably poisoned,” he said. “Would that not be the
perfect end to a perfect day? Or the perfect week for that matter?
What do you think, Klaus?”

Klaus paused before answering. “I think the Ars…
Archbishop did not believe the messenger was a true Eagle.”

“I could care less what he thinks, as he obviously
does not spend much time catering to my wants. He does not care if
Louis trounces my brother in this war. He will still be the High
Bishop for the German Empire. The only person’s favor he really
needs, is that of the Pope.”

Leopold paused. He stared at Klaus and cocked his
head. Klaus had seen that look many a time. He let out a deep
breath, and waited.

“The Pope…” Leopold repeated. “Klaus, why is it that
I get some of my best ideas while yelling at you?”

Klaus gave no indication that he had heard the
question. But he had, in fact, heard everything. Not many men could
say they had served two kings and outlived them both. Klaus
suspected he knew which plan Leopold was about to hatch.

It was going to be a long night.

They set out mid-morning with Thomas riding on their
one horse and Seraina and Gildas walking alongside. Thomas was
grateful that Gildas had sent the wolf away earlier when he saw how
much Oppid upset the horse, for Thomas doubted he had the strength
to control a fidgety animal. And Gildas too, mumbling something
about towns filled with small-minded people, seemed to relax when
Oppid bolted off into the woods.

They emerged from the trees onto a road some time
later. Thomas knew it was for his sake that they avoided the forest
trails but he wished Seraina would stop looking at him every time
he winced or shifted to a more bearable position on his mount. He
kept one arm pressed tight to his side, as it lessened the jostling
of his stitches. He was weak, he knew that. But the pounding in his
skull had subsided to a tolerable level and he was actually
beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger.

“Do you need to stop for a rest?” Seraina asked.

“No.”

“We have time. I know of a place we can spend the
night and push on to Schwyz at first light.”

“I said no. I would see us at Sutter’s inn before
dusk.”

“Very well. But we will stop here for a few moments.
You may not be tired but your horse is. You ride with all the life
of an iron anvil.”

Thomas began to grunt back a reply but the vibration
of speech sent a shiver of pain rippling up his side. He settled
for a dark look.

Gildas stopped and leaned on his staff. “A rest
sounds good. You set a swifter pace than I am accustomed. Whatever
happened to the little short-legged girl of yesteryear that used to
have to run to keep up with me?”

Seraina laughed. “Why I willed my legs to grow, of
course, because I was sure there must be more to see in the world
than thinning white hair and a crooked back.”

“It seems that a great deal of that will was
directed at your tongue as well,” Gildas said.

Seraina was still smiling as she looked at the road
before them. It rose up a steep hill and turned to the right.

“I think there are heidelberries nearby. Gildas,
help Thomas off his horse and I will be back in a few minutes.”

She was already several strides up the road before
either man had a chance to voice their thoughts. Thomas watched as
her lithe legs carried her away from them. Her strides were long
and graceful, and although she was no taller than an average woman,
the way she moved was more feline than human. She crested the hill
and, with one last glint of sunshine off her auburn hair, Seraina
disappeared around the bend.

Thomas realized he had been holding his breath. He
looked down and saw Gildas staring at him. The old man shook his
head.

“She is not for you, Thomas Schwyzer.”

“What are you talking about?” Thomas met the old
man’s stare with one of his own.

“Deny it if you will. But your eyes are the scouts
of your heart, not its spies. They cannot conceal what you
feel.”

Thomas looked down at his horse’s neck. “You are
full of crazy talk, old man.” He swung his right leg over and eased
himself to the ground. His pulse beat at a furious pace.

Gildas looked up the road.

“I tell you this to spare you. Not because of some
fatherly need to protect a daughter.” He turned back and Thomas
tried to avoid the man’s fierce blue eyes, but they were a current
that he could not fight against.

“Seraina is much more than a daughter to this
world,” Gildas said. His eyes softened to reveal a sadness that had
perhaps always been present, but hidden. “Your priests tell us
women are sin. My own people view them differently. We say
woman
is life
.”

“Then what do you say of men?” Thomas asked.

Gildas smiled. “
Man is the servant of life
.
Fitting is it not?”

Thomas shook his head. “I do not understand what you
are trying to…,”

Thomas blinked, and caught a sense of motion from
the top of the hill. At the same time, Gildas too seemed to
register a change of some sort, for he turned and looked up the
road.

Seraina rounded the corner in the road and was
coming toward them at an all-out sprint. She slipped as she started
down the hill, but without slowing down, she reached out one hand,
pushed off the ground to regain her balance, and continued running.
The sight of her reddish-brown hair, streaming behind her as she
ran, had a much different effect on Thomas now than it did earlier.
It filled him with dread.

He reached to his belt for his knife, but it came
away empty. He looked to his horse, but realized its back was bare,
save for Ruedi’s crossbow wrapped in a sheepskin blanket. The
quality weapon was worth a small fortune, but now, with no bolts,
it was worse than worthless. But even if he had a quarrel, Thomas
knew he would be unable to cock the weapon without the assistance
of a belt hook. The heavy draw weight of the string would sever his
fingers before he could pull it even half way.

“A sword,” he said, looking at Gildas. “I need a
weapon.” Gildas stepped away from him and shook his head. Thomas’s
eyes locked onto the walking stick Gildas held. It was crooked and
worn smooth from a lifetime of use, but being made from hard, solid
oak, it was heavy enough. He reached out and tore it from the old
man’s grasp before he could protest.

Seraina was there much sooner than Thomas thought
possible. She walked the last few paces with her hands on her hips
to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and the sides of her
hair wet with sweat. One unruly strand curled over a cheek and
fluttered with every exhalation.

“Habsburg soldiers,” she said. “And I think they saw
me. Quickly! We must take to the trees.”

Gildas put his arm on her shoulder. “It is too late
for that now.” He nodded toward the road. Two riders, the sun
glinting off their helmets, trotted toward them. They seemed to be
in no rush, but they were obviously focused on the three travelers
standing directly in their path.

“We must run,” Seraina said.

“We cannot.” Gildas nodded toward Thomas. “He is in
no shape to flee. I doubt he could even get back onto his horse in
time.”

“He is right,” Thomas said. “You and Gildas go. I
will be fine. They will not know who I am.”

Seraina’s voice rose to a frantic pitch. “Are you
mad? Of course they will know who you are. You killed the Duke’s
soldiers and stole one of his horses!”

Thomas looked at his mount. The Habsburg brand
jumped out at him. Cringing, he pulled the bundle holding Ruedi’s
crossbow forward so it covered the mark. By the time he turned
around, he was greeted by the pattering of hooves on hard earth. He
tightened his grip on the walking stick.

“You there. What cause do you have to run from your
Duke’s patrol?”

Gildas stepped forward. “Please forgive my daughter,
my lords. She is mute and scares easily. She mistook you for
highwaymen and rushed back to warn us.”

The riders pulled up before them. The one that spoke
was much younger than the other, and the way he barked out his
words, made Thomas think he was eager to impress the veteran he
rode with.

“Show me your trade pass,” the younger man said.

“Trade papers, my lord?” Gildas said.

“This road is closed to all but those certified by
the Trade Commissioner.”

“Since when?” Thomas asked. “I have not heard of
these roads being off limits to locals.” He regretted speaking
almost immediately. Not because the younger man turned on him
instantly, but more so because he felt the older soldier also take
an interest in him.

“Do you expect to know all that transpires in the
Commissioner’s office?” the young soldier said. “Are we to knock on
every hovel’s door and deliver each command of his lordship
personally? Who are you, man, to speak so out of place?”

“He is my daughter’s husband, my lord,” Gildas said,
shooting a scowl at Thomas. “He is a miserable man at the best of
times, and often speaks out of turn to make up for his wife’s
eternal silence.”

To emphasize the old druid’s story, Seraina punched
Thomas in the shoulder and flashed her teeth at him.

“Well, if he speaks again without my leave, I will
have his tongue at my belt. That should make the conversations at
their dinner table more balanced.”

He chuckled at his own threat, and Thomas forced his
eyes to look at the ground. The older soldier nudged his horse
forward and slowly began circling around to the rear of Thomas’s
own mount.

The young man continued questioning Gildas. “If you
have no trade papers, then you did not pass the checkpoint. How did
you get on this road?”

“Not far from here, there is a trail in the woods
that leads to our farm,” Gildas said, his words seemed especially
slow to Thomas, and as he spoke he stepped toward the young man,
holding his hands low and out to the side. “This path meanders
between lichen-coated rocks, and under trees draped in giant-beard.
The sun appears, now and then, and when it does, its rays warm your
skin, and if you listen carefully, very carefully, the sound of
running water hums in the background…”

Gildas continued speaking and if Thomas had been
standing closer to the old man he doubted he would have been able
to focus on anything but his words. But, with effort, he shook off
the sound of Gildas’s voice. He took hold of his horse’s halter,
then angled himself toward the other soldier walking his horse
behind them.

“A word of caution, my lord,” Thomas said. “This
horse likes to kick out at others that come too close from the
rear.”