ALTDORF (The Forest Knights: Book 1) (20 page)

“T
HEY BURNED your ferry, Thomi. By the Devil’s black arse, of course I am angry!” Vex, Pirmin’s new puppy, barked twice and squatted low to the ground, distressed at his master’s emotional outburst.

Thomas stood waist-deep in the lake. He had removed his boots but wore all his clothes, hoping they would retain some of his body heat. They did little to keep out the chill of the autumn water.

He finished lashing what remained of the blackened ferry deck to a mooring post on the wharf. The railings, mast, and sail had been completely consumed in the blaze, and most of the floorboards were ruined beyond repair, but the members closer to the water had been spared. At least most of the wharf remained.

“Noll says it was Landenberg. His cousin’s boy saw him and a dozen red-fisters on the north road that night,” Pirmin said, leaning on his ax and shaking his head.

Pirmin stood well back from the water lapping gently at the fine-pebbled shoreline. He had never enjoyed water. In fact, Thomas believed, it was the only thing in this world the big man feared. Curious that a man who served on a war galley for twenty years should be so cursed. But then again, with time, water could bring down mountains.

Thinking Thomas was not listening, Pirmin hefted his ax and shouted from the shore. “Did you hear that Thomi? Landenberg did this! I say we go visit him in his sleep tonight. You and me. With all the love we can muster.” He smiled grimly and ran a thumb as thick as a broom handle over the blade of his ax, testing its edge.

Thomas had been furious the night he and Seraina had come upon his burning home. If someone had been there, Austrian soldier or not, he had no doubt he would have made them pay dearly. But now he was once more under control, and thinking straight.

“Noll would have you believe it was Landenberg. That suits his purpose fine. For all we know Noll burnt all this himself just to sway us to his cause.”

Pirmin’s face went from red to purple. “By God, you are a stubborn worm!” He lifted his ax and strode towards Thomas, but stopped instantly when his foot splashed into the water. He danced back, as did Vex, but not before snapping at the water’s edge.

Pirmin cursed Thomas in his native Wallis dialect, and although Thomas could not understand the words, he was glad ten feet of water separated him from the enraged giant.

“I cannot understand what you have against Melchthal. He talks more sense than you do recently.”

“You had best stay away from that one Pirmin. I have told you as much already.”

“Or what?”

When Thomas did not reply, Pirmin threw up his hands in disgust. “This country has turned you into a cowering Dominican. Or worse, if there is such a creature.”

Thomas shrugged. “If it is as you say, and the Vogt’s men burned my home, he did it because he thinks I helped Noll escape his men. The boy is playing you Pirmin. Any way I look at it, this whole mess is Noll Melchthal’s fault.”

Pirmin shook his head. “I have said it before, and will not shy from saying it again. You are a stubborn worm, and you get more so every day. I need a drink and a woman. And the order is not important. When you finally crawl out of your monk’s cell, you come find me and I will talk reason into you.”

Thomas watched Pirmin swing into the saddle of his war mount with the grace of a much smaller man. He looked around for Vex, and found him at the shoreline, gingerly testing the water with a paw disproportionately huge compared to the rest of his growing body.

“Vex! Get away from there! We are going home.”

Without waiting for the dog, Pirmin nudged his horse into a gallop over the green-covered slopes. Vex cast one last look at the water, whined, and then bolted after Pirmin.

Thomas stood in the water, and shivered.

Chapter 18

P
IRMIN AND NOLL stood completely still, hardly daring to breathe. The forest too had gone quiet, as though it sensed what was to come.

Noll sighted down the length of the crossbow bolt with both eyes open. He was an instinctive shooter and never used sights. He preferred to look at a small point on his target and will his bolt to that very spot.

A hairy mass exploded from the thicket with a squeal and charged directly at the two men. Noll flinched but then controlled his breath and waited.

“Shoot!” Pirmin said, stepping away from Noll and reaching for his knife.

Noll picked his spot and eased up on the tickler until the crossbow jumped in his hand and the bolt sprang forward. Noll followed it with his breath and saw it penetrate deep into the boar’s chest. The animal veered off course, snorted, and took several steps towards the underbrush. Then it dropped.

“Fine shot!” Pirmin said standing upright and releasing his grip on his knife. “That would have made any Genoese crossbowman proud. Thought for sure we were going to be wrestling pig.”

“Pray that never happens. I have seen boar smaller than this one rip men up pretty bad,” Noll said.

He walked over to the boar and touched it with his foot to make sure it was dead, then leaned over and removed his bolt.

“Did you know any Genoese bowmen?” Noll asked.

“Know any? The Levant was full of them. Highest paid mercenaries in the Holy Lands. We used them when we could afford them. I do not recall ever losing a fight when we had the green and red of Genoa with us. Except for Acre…but that fight was lost before it was ever started.”

“Perhaps that is what we need—more crossbowmen. If I could get my hands on more of these,” Noll held up his crossbow, “we could take the fight to Landenberg. Maybe even Habsburg castle.”

Pirmin grinned and shook his head. “I admire your spirit, Noll. I really do. But that crossbow you have is a hunter’s weapon. A bolt from that would bounce back from chainmail and stick you in your own eye. A true war bow capable of skewering a man at two hundred paces in full kit is what you would need. But a weapon like that costs more coin than I can drink in a year.”

“A full year? By God, Pirmin, you know how to squash a man’s dreams.”

Pirmin leaned against a tree and plucked a long blade of grass. He chewed on it thoughtfully. “No, what we need are more men. What have you got now? A hundred?”

“I could have a hundred fifty in two days,” Noll said.

Pirmin laughed at how proud Noll looked.

“A hundred fifty? Come talk to me when you have a thousand. We could work with that. In the meantime, I suppose we will have to stick to fighting monks.”

Noll went silent. He pulled out his knife and cut two lengths of twine, then thrust his knife into the dirt. He began tying the forelegs of the boar together.

“You must know others that would fight for our cause. Do you have any connections?”

Pirmin shook his head. “Lost track of them all. All save Thomi.”

Noll groaned. “Do not mention the ferryman again. We have no need of cowards like him.”

“Watch your tongue boy. His kind is exactly what you need.”

Noll grunted and Pirmin could tell by his face he was not convinced.

“He is a different sort that one. I know it, and the Grandmaster of our order knew it. That is why he made him captain of the Schwyzers.”

“What do you mean by ‘a different sort’? I’ve seen plenty of soldiers in my time and they all take to killing much the same in my eyes.”

Pirmin shook his head as he stared off into the trees. How could he explain to someone who had never faced the true horrors of war?

“Not that one,” he began. “The battle furies have no hold over Thomi. You see, most men survive in war by letting their animal side loose. Fear and anger rise up and give a man strength. They allow him to survive the loss of a limb or fight like a madman long past total exhaustion. Warriors of old called this being possessed by the battle furies.”

“I know of the furies,” Noll said.

Pirmin looked at the young man’s eyes and could see a hard glint there that made him think Noll was perhaps not as green as he thought.

“Well our Thomi does not. You see he has never been visited by the furies. When the killing starts, his pulse never quickens, his guts do not boil up in the back of his throat. He might as well be at home eating soup as caving in a man’s head with his mace.”

“And why is that useful? You just said rage lends a man strength when he most needs it,” Noll said.

“Let me tell you a story,” Pirmin said, shaking his head. “We were boys and the Hospitallers had marched us out of Schwyz weeks earlier. Our ship finally put ashore in Outremer, a days march from Acre. A few hours after leaving the port, slavers set upon us. Ripe we were for their kind, what with five hundred children and only a handful of guards. The black knights fought like devils and managed to beat them off, but not before the slavers made off with near two hundred of the young ones.”

Pirmin paused. He had not thought on that day for a long time. But he could still smell the sun-baked earth at his feet as they marched, and feel the cool relief as they entered a canyon, the stone walls providing shade from the relentless sun. Then the rockslide came, and relief changed to confusion and terror as dust blotted out the light and made breathing difficult. Screams followed. And soon a new scent for Pirmin, one he would never get used to: the smell of blood spilling onto hot sand and stone.

“Me and Thomi should have been amongst those taken. Fighting was all around us, and a fat-jowled man tried to grab us. Thomi was only five at the time. I was eight.” Pirmin grinned at Noll. “But I was big for my age.”

“You are still big for your age. What did you do?”

“I jumped on the whoreson and fought for all I was worth. I had a dog too, and she helped some. Before the bastard put her down.”

Pirmin was silent for a moment. Thinking of Zora was never easy for him.

He quickly pressed on. “The slaver thrashed me good. I lay on the ground bleeding and hurting everywhere and he was about to tie my hands and drag me away when Thomi threw a rock at him. The slaver looked up and started laughing. And I tell you, I almost did too.” Pirmin shook his head and chuckled at the memory.

“What was so funny? What was he doing?”

Pirmin wiped some moisture from one eye and continued. “That skinny little waif was using every muscle in his feeble body to point a crossbow at the slaver as he tried to haul me away. Not a toy like yours, mind you. It was a real war bow like I was talking about earlier. It weighed as much as him, I am sure. But you want to know the best part?”

Noll smiled. “He shot the man through the stomach?”

Pirmin laughed. “No, that he could not do. He had no bolt. The string was not even stretched. Thomi might as well have been pointing a stick at the bastard.”

Noll shook his head. “Stupid boy.”

“Ah, was he now?”

Pirmin grinned and took a drink from his wineskin before continuing with his story.

“He held that crossbow on the man, but his eyes were looking into my own. The slaver was laughing so hard as he walked over to Thomi, he had trouble drawing his knife, but what he did not see was Thomi leading me with his eyes to the man’s axe lying in the sand behind him. The whoreson slapped the crossbow out of Thomi’s hands and, just to teach him a lesson, slashed Thomi across the face.”