The Free Company- Book V: Bloody Retribution

[TheWildFerret]

August 12, Noon, Battle of Cremona

Two steps later the Irishman tripped over the outstretched arm of a corpse and dropped to all fours. Releasing his weapon, he crawled forward the last few feet before collapsing.

Baer shouted, "Get him out of here!" Lukas Baer looked at the prone body of the Irishman. They never truly got along, but that didn’t matter. This man’s heroic action had just saved the line from untold death and carnage. Seeing O’Barr fall fueled Baer with a rage he had not felt since the breach.

How many men will it take for us to win? Way too many. Damn them damn them all.

A roar escaped Baer’s throat as he stepped over O’Barr’s body and turned his pike parallel to the ground. He charged into front rank of the Venetian pike unit, his body and plate armor absorbing much damage. Baer merely used the pain to fuel his anger and his body.

The Venetians were caught off guard by the large German. The five men directly in front of Baer were pushed back and down. The tripped and ended up in the quagmire of mud and body parts. Much to their dismay their comrades behind them merely stepped upon their bodies to use as better leverage against the slippery mud. Unfortunately for them they also were struck down by Baer’s righteous fury.

Seeing the gap forming Erik directed the heavy infantry to move in behind Baer. The numbers of the Heavy Pike had dwindled down to a mere six men left. Of the original four Zweihanders, only two remained. This battle had taken its toll and Erik was done with it. If he could smash the enemy now, then he would.

“HENRI! ARTUR! GRAB SOME MEN AND FALL IN BEHIND THE HEAVY PIKE! MOVE INTO THE GAP AND PUSH OUT. LET’S TEAR THESE VENETIANS FROM THE INSIDE OUT!” The two men looked at Erik and felt the responsibility of what was just placed upon their shoulders. They have been given temporary rank to maneuver men within the pike unit. They hurried to the task and selected several men, then they pushed their way forward to behind the heavy pike.

Baer’s vision was blurred from his or someone else’s blood, he didn’t know which and really didn’t care. He had pushed the Venetians back and heard the men fill the gap behind. A sword snaked in and cracked the shaft of the pike. Baer dropped the ruined weapon and grabbed the next closest thing he could. Unfortunately for the Venetian that Baer grabbed, Baer had no intention of taking the Venetians weapon.

Grabbing the Venetian by the arm, Baer pulled him up and over onto the press in front of him. Once more this knocked a couple of men. Out of the corner of his eye, Baer saw a flash of steel. Quickly he grabbed another Venetian and pulled him to block the sword strike. The Venetian locked eyes with the large Grizzly of a man and saw only pain and death there.

Baer twisted the body of the now dead Venetian pulling the sword out of his attacker’s hand. The large German reached forward and grasped his attacker by the neck and just squeezed. The man’s throat gave way with a sickening crunch and a spraying of blood. The men directly behind took one look at the blood soaked berserker and broke. They ran to the rear, none of them wishing to battle the red killing machine.

This caused confusion that Jaeger’s pikemen used and began to decimate the Venetian pike. Baer took two steps forward and fell to his knees. He tried to rise but realized his legs would not respond to his commands. He cursed loudly and twisted from side to side. With a guttural roar Baer’s eye’s rolled up into his head and he fell back on to the ground.

Gerd saw the large sergeant fall and grabbed Oskar. Oskar merely looked where Gerd was pointing. What he saw stopped even the talkative Oskar into still quiet. Quickly the two men raced forward and grabbed Baer and began to drag him back to the rear. There was so much blood that they were unsure if Baer was wounded or merely exhausted. Baer had stood on the front line for the entire battle, a seemingly unyielding stone of steel death.

Men passing the three men stopped to stare shortly before pushing deeper into the Venetian unit. Erik was walking forward with his unit when he saw the three men. Looking down at Baer and the two struggling pikemen, his heart sank.

“You two, return to your position, leave him.”

“But sir…” Oskar started.

“You heard me man, get back to your position. He will be picked up if he still lives from those in the rear, but we must finish the push that he and that Irish bastard started, now get the hell back into the line.”

The two men placed the sergeant down with his head above the muck and moved forward once more. Erik heard the irrepressible Oskar start in about something, No doubt about me just leaving Baer here to die.

Erik looked down at his Sergeant and long time friend.

Damn you Baer, live or so help me God I will march down to the gates of Hell and find you myself. God be with you, you old bastard.

Erik nodded and moved forward. He looked up in time to see the Florentine army crash into the flank of the Venetians. The cold grin grew and he bellowed, “TODAY IS NOT A GOOD DAY TO BE A VENETIAN!! ONWARD, SEND THESE MAGGOTS TO HELL WHERE THEY MAY BE TORMENTED FOR ETERNITY!!!”

There was a general yell and the pike unit moved forward. To the left of Jaeger, Le Clerc and the reserves from Sforza pushed forward as well. Behind them they left ground littered with the dead and dying. Only time will tell if those that were left behind would tell of their deeds tomorrow.

The left hand of Lukas Baer twitched once and then laid still…

 

[redwolf]

August 12, Noon, Battle of Cremona

As Chen's sword slashed into another unguarded venetian back, he looked into the where the Heavy cavalry had smashed into the venetian formation. The venetians were scared, confused and had no coordination at all. With the Florentines attacking the rear of their army, they realised that the hunters had now become the hunted and they were not sure what to do next and this was their downfall as the FC cavalry attacked with no mercy, determined to make the venetians pay for the deaths of their brother in arms. The Heavy Cavalry in the center engaged in a fierce melee, the Light cavalry on the flanks, harassing the venetians and slashing away at unwary venetians when the opportunity arises.

In the rear of the venetian cavalry formation, elements of the cavalry were trying to rally even as the FC heavy cavalry smash through the venetians. "At them, don't let them rally!!" shouted Chen as his jaghun follwed him, another volley of arrows firing into the rallying venetians. On the other side, he could see O'Floinn preparing to attack another rallying element too.

The cavalry battle continued.....

 

[Amric]

August 12, Battle of Cremona

Brien Jameson and Alexander Whigmore advanced into the Venetians to find Amric covered in blood, most of it Venetian. He had various cuts, bruises and contusions. The two men took up position next to their nearly spent sargeant along with more and more Free Company men.

"Been having fun?" Brien queried with a laugh.

"Yep. What took you so long?" Amric grimaced.

"Had to finish off some of those stragglers you left in your wake," Alexander quipped," Not that you left much. You're lucky to be alive."

"Since that trail you left was beginning to close up behind you," Brien added.

"Well I'm right glad you blokes decided to follow along and gather me back up into the bosom of the group," Amric chuckled grimly.

The dance of death continued. The three men were at the point of a deep thrust into the left side of the large gap that had been created in the Venetian lines.

The Venetians had stiffened and the advance had slowed to a crawl. Cyril and Geoffrey had advanced with their larger group to about the same distance on the right side of the gap.

Amric had asked for a truly awesome hole, and his men had delivered. In spades.

My Lord, I don't know if I really wish to know the cost of my pride and my insistance that my men follow me into this hellstorm. They don't really know me. They know by now that I am very good with my weapons, but I am shocked and deeply impressed with their efforts.

My lads are good men, no, they are great men! I am proud to serve with them. The best men a man like me could serve with and in my small way, lead into battle.

"Reinforcements!" Amric bellowed," I need reinforcements! I want to shatter these vermin, not dance all day with them!"

Deep down, he knew that there just wasn't going to be any reinforcements. He just hoped that his heartiness would keep the men inspired and killing the Venetians in windrows...

 

[The_Hawk]

Carl van Krieg laid Patrick down as gently as he could manage at the end of one of the makeshift rows of wounded behind the Company lines. He vainly tried to gain the attention of one of the mercenary surgeons, but this fresh offensive had led to fresh casualties and none could even spare him a glance, let alone a moment to examine his friend. Carl was worried at how pale O'Barr had become -- and at how much blood had been seeping from his back wound on the trip to the rudimentary hospital. If they hit a kidney...

O'Barr's eyes fluttered open, sought out a familiar form against the blinding sun. He slowly raised a pale hand to shield the sun, which Carl caught, gripped. "Lie still," the big Anglo-Saxon insisted, shadowing O'Barr's eyes.

O'Barr blinked, met Carl's gaze. "Carl... the lines?"

"Holding. I saw on the way up that the Florentines have decided to join in -- and it looks like they picked the right side."

"And Baer?"

Carl grinned. "You saved him, Paddy. He was starting a brilliant push when I left."

Carl's reassuring grin shattered on his face when two troopers laid down the blood-soaked Baer next to O'Barr and headed back for the front. Patrick turned his head, painfully, and studied the German's features. "Oh, bloody hell," he groaned.

A blare of trumpets jarred van Krieg, and he leapt to his feet, scanning the horizon. "al'Aeshir is advancing. I have to get back."

"Carl?" Patrick asked feebly.

The big man crouched, took his friend's hand. "What is it?"

The Irishman started to speak, then coughed. When his fit stopped, his lips were stained with blood. "Blast it," he muttered, "the Chin."

"What?"

"The Chin. Tell Chen Hui that I'm sorry."

Carl grinned again. "You can tell him yourself when all this is over." He gave Patrick's hand a squeeze. "I must go. Be well." Standing, Carl drew his sword and jogged back toward the front.

Behind him, Patrick O'Barr leaned back, his eyes open, staring at the sun, letting its warmth wash over him. By the time one of the field surgeons made it down the line to him, he had long since bled to death.

 

[unmerged(9046)]

August 12, Noon, Battle of Cremona

“HENRI! ARTUR! GRAB SOME MEN AND FALL IN BEHIND THE HEAVY PIKE! MOVE INTO THE GAP AND PUSH OUT. LET’S TEAR THESE VENETIANS FROM THE INSIDE OUT!” The two men looked at Erik and felt the responsibility of what was just placed upon their shoulders. They have been given temporary rank to maneuver men within the pike unit. They hurried to the task and selected several men, then they pushed their way forward to behind the heavy pike.

Henri and his selected men turned to their new task. The heavy pike in front surged against the Venetian lines.

Henri learned that midday a fact of war that he had never known before. Before the battle, there were hours and hours of training and sweating and marching. During the battle, none of this seemed to matter. There comes a point in most battle where it has become a question of wills. Who wants to win this more?

Henri searched deep in within himself to find that will. At first, he thought it would be his Dad or brother that he would be fighting for. He held on to the image of his brother.

The Free Company pikemen were halted. It seemed they would be unable to break through this hole. The entire battle could be on the line.

Henri searched even deeper within himself. He found a source even stronger then his family.

Henri was fighting for the Free Company.

He now understand the mantra of the Free Company that had been chanted in every battle. Death Rides With Us! Henri that day was death. He and his men would deal death to their enemy or they would fail and all would be lost.

With this new source, he pushed forward once again...

 

[Lord Durham]

August 12, Noon, Battle of Cremona

Captain, Frederik and the Bloody Half-Hundred pulled back from a shattered Venetian regiment. Several of the grim horsemen made to chase after but Captain held up his bloodied sword. "Hold!"

In the distance, on the crest of a range of hills, he had found what he had been looking for.

Gatalematta.

Captain pointed with his swordarm. "To me! Death Rides with Us!"

The small contingent of cavalry broke into a steady trot, skirting the rear of the Florentine lines. They moved along a series of gentle slopes until coming to the base of the Venetian command post. Movement along the crest indicated they had been spotted, and a strong mass of cavalry gathered to intercept.

Captain spurred his horse, breaking into the lead of an armoured wedge. The wedge thundered up the slope, lances came down and the sides clashed in a cacophony of ringing steel and splintered wood.

A lance brushed past Captain's shoulder, causing him to sway on his horse. Another man rode in from an angle and hacked down with a mace. Captain parried at the last moment, deflecting the blow onto his mount's flank, crushing deep. His parry turned into a back-handed slash that caught the Venetian in the back as he rode past.

His horse stumbled from the injury - a move that saved Captain when another lance passed through the spot where his head had been. He drove his heels into the animal, and the beast righted himself, lunging forward. Captain looked wildly for the Cat - saw Frederik holding the Company banner. How did that happen? Then he saw his quarry, standing firm on a wagon with sword and shield.

Captain put heel to horse again. The animal lurched several paces then collapsed, tossing Sir Robert free to land with a heavy crunch of metal and dirt. He rolled over quickly, in time to deflect a blow from Gatalematta. The man had reacted quickly, leaping from the wagon the moment he saw the horse stumble.

However, the Cat cursed. His age had prevented a faster response. He swung again, striking ground as Captain rolled the opposite way, coming to his feet with sword readied. He eyed the elder condotierri. "Yield! I have no desire to kill you."

The Cat breathed deep. "Nor I you. Yield to me."

A quick glance told Captain that the majority of the Venetian guard were dead, fled or captured. He smiled - a half, humourless smile. "I believe I have you at the advantage, sir. Yield."

Gatalematta shook his head, took a step forward, then paused. His face went ashen and his mouth opened in a wordless cry. Sword falling haplessly to the ground, the aged veteran of many battles clutched his chest and dropped to one knee. He looked up at Captain. He croaked, "Not like this..."

Captain rushed to the man's side, helped him to his back. He shouted, "Water! Quickly!" Moments later a skin was pressed into his hands. He held it to the pasty blue lips of the Venetian general, letting the liquid moisten them.

Gatalematta's breathing was ragged, raspy. He said, "It was a good battle. It was... well fought." There was a long moment of silence broken only by the pained wheezing of the old man. He mumbled, "You were... saved... by treachery."

Captain waited for more, but Gatalematta fell into unconsciousness. He stood up, looked at the Venetian prisoners. "You men. You are nobles? Officers?"

One stepped forward. "I am of the Parmeo family. Most of these men are officers."

Captain nodded. "This battle is over. Call it off."

The Venetians muttered among each other while regarding the battlefield.

"Hurry now. Enough blood has been shed today."

They came to a consensus. Trumpets sounded - the sound of retreat.

Captain let go of Gatalematta, strode to the top of the hill, signaling Frederik to his side. He asked, "How did you come by the banner?"

Frederik shrugged. "It's a long story. What do you want me to do?"

"Wave it. Let our men know the battle is finished."

Frederik began to wave the black-on-black banner. Slowly, hostilities ceased as the Venetians fled, surrendered, or dropped to the ground in exhaustion.

Captain returned to the gathered enemy officers. "You men are free to go. Return your general to Venice so he may die with honours. But, tell Foscari to quit Mantua. Tell him to quit Mantua or the Free Company will come.

The Venetians gathered up Gatalematta and placed him in the wagon. Minutes later they rumbled away.

Frederik called out. "How much longer do I have to wave this thing? It's not light!"

For the first time in days Captain laughed.

 

[Amric]

August 12, Battle of Cremona's Ending

Amric noticed the flag of the Free Company waving from the command area of the Venetians. The battle was over as horns blew from the Venetian lines and the Venetians began to disengage.

"It's over men!" Amric shouted," Disengage! Let them go!"

He sent a runner over to Cyril and Geoffrey to give them the good news as well.

"Fall back to our positions, lads!" Amric bellowed," Right smartly too. We have some policing up of the area to do."

With that the remains of his command marched back to their original positions. Any men who were wounded were taken back to the lines, whether they were Free Company men or Venetians.

Even if they were/are our enemy at the moment. They fought bravely, and well. They deserve medical treatment.

"That's right, carry him to the med tent," Amric croaked, his dry throat betraying him at last," Maybe that leg can be saved."

He took a swig of water from the water barrel and continued on the bloody and thankless task of sorting the bodies of the dead and wounded. Placing the Venetian dead in one area and the Free Company dead in another while getting the wounded of both back to where they could be either treated or made as comfortable as possible while death stalked them.

Cleaning his blades quickly, Amric fell to with helping get the place back into a semblence of order from the chaos of battle. It had been a long day already, and there was many hours left to go to get all the wounded and dead situated.

"You look like hell," Cyril growled.

Looking at the blood all over himself Amric chuckled," Most of it isn't mine, though. You don't look all that pretty either. But a few minor wounds won't stop us."

"No it won't," Cyril replied," Mind giving me a hand with this one?"

"On three," Amric nodded," One, two, three!"

The two men hefted a dead pikeman and carefully placed it with his fellows in the area reserved for the Free Company dead. They returned for another one and did the same thing, except it was for the Venetian area.

Wiping his brow, Amric looked up at the sun briefly before putting his back into it with all the heavy lifting that was still left to do....

 

[TheWildFerret]

August 12, Battle of Cremona's Ending

Erik watched as the hostility ceased. He looked down upon the field and realized that even though they carried the day, they still had lost a good portion of their force. Most of the Constantinople veterans were gone or would be. Three men were left of the Swiss and German Pike Unit that marched into Constantinople. These did not include himself, Baer and the messenger Fritz. So in all, six highly trained pikemen had survived the breach and the treachery of the Italians.

He slowly shook his head and saw Amric begin policing the area for wounded and the dead. Erik walked over and padded the man on his back, “Good work Sergeant, continue at this task but let half your men rest and then rotate those half into work details while you and the other half rest. We have survived but it would do no good to kill ourselves over the dead.” Erik cracked a little half smile which quickly fled, “Also take control of Baer’s men as well and get them organized to help.”

Amric nodded and said, “Yes sir.” Then turned to look after the men and began issuing orders.

Erik walked the field but could not find the body of his friend any where. He meandered towards the rear and the group of wounded. There he saw Baer, or what he presumed was the man. The large German was swathed in linen which were stained red and covered over half the big man’s body. One thing that Erik could see and rejoiced over was the rise and fall of Baer’s chest. Thank God, the big Grizzly lives. Looking at the man he added, But for how much longer.

Erik approached Baer and looked down at Baer’s face. Eyes snapping open Baer looked at Erik directly and croaked out, “Left me on the field, huh?”

Erik laughed and nodded, “I was hoping the buzzards would have a fine meal this day.”

Baer looked towards the bloodied field, “I think they will feast grandly.”

“Yes and for that I am truly thankful it is not me filling some bird’s gullet, nor you.”

“Bah Erik, don’t be getting all womanly on me, you still need to present the strong face to the men.”

“Lukas I don’t care right now, I hope more then you have survived, only six Keil and Landsknecht remain.”

Baer closed his eyes and let go a slow sigh, “Six? Whom?”

“You, me, Adler, Fritz, Moritz, and Ebein.”

“Damn these battles, our company is all but gone. One day it will be, we might as well forget who we are.”

“Lukas, you and I know our Landsknecht company is gone, but we are part of a new company and I dare say a greater one. We are members of the Free Company and we have the respect of the world for who we are. Rest now you old Grizzly, you will need your strength in the coming days.”

Baer nodded his head and laid back.

Erik looked up to see one of the Company doctors coming up to him. “Sir, I don’t know what kept him going, but he should be dead. He’s an amazing man, but I don’t think he will be much of a soldier after today. I can’t see him wielding a pike like he used to.”

Baer’s eyes snapped open, “Watch me Doctor, just watch me.” He closed his eyes once more and rested.

Erik merely smiled and turned from the speechless doctor. He wandered about the area giving an encouraging word and congratulatory comments. Standing on the hill he saw the Captain’s boy John looking over the field. Taking a moment from his meanderings he walked up and joined the boy. Nay man.

“John Brandon, how does the taste of victory suit you?”

John turned and snapped to attention as he saw the Lieutenant walking towards him.

“Bah rest, today has been a very long day.”

John seemed at a loss for a moment and then relaxed once more. He searched for the words and then spoke, “Well sir, I don’t truly think I like the taste of victory at all. So much bloodshed, so many men lost, and so many friends gone. I think it tastes bitter and cold.” He looked in time to see a man help Dieter towards the rear. It appeared Dieter had taken a wound to his shoulder that looked deep, but not too serious.

“Yes John, I won’t lie to you, Victory is often costly and too often it leaves too many widows and lonely friends. Remember though that you are still alive and the enemy is in retreat before you.”

“Sir, meaning no disrespect, but why? Not why remember, but why was all this necessary? I see no use to this battle, we’re not some heroes walking into the enemy’s stronghold, nor some liberating army. What’s the point?”

Erik stood straight and looked him dead in the eye, “Boy, we don’t fight for glory, that’s what the officers and recruiting sergeants want you to think. If you haven’t figured out why you are here fighting then you deserve to be called a boy.” Erik turned and walked away, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Ask how Dieter got his wound, actually I’ll save you the trouble and him the breath. He stood over Artur when he fell in the final push. He wasn’t worried about glory then, think about it some John and maybe you’ll begin to understand the ways of the soldier.” Erik turned back and walked down the hill towards Lochlan and the other Officers.

John turned to look not over the field but at his regiment. He saw Dieter and Geoffrey sitting talking waiting on a Doctor to look at their wounds. He heard the irrepressible Oskar relate the tale of how Erik had left Baer to die on the field of battle and the boom of his Sergeant’s bellow telling Oskar to shut up and let him die in peace. Cyril and Henri moved about the field gathering the dead and dying. It dawned on John why they fought.

It wasn’t for glory or money, it’s for each other. We fight for each other for that’s all we have now and tomorrow, but tomorrow may bring our deaths. This is why we fight, for each other. Grinning slightly John turned his back on the field of battle and moved to help his friends and comrades with policing the area. Sergeant Amric was issuing orders to all of them now and seemed to be getting everything set. As John passed Henri he padded the other man on his shoulder.

Henri turned to see John walking by and nodded at him. Today they had become brothers more deeply then any blood tie. Each and every one of them was now family and John realized that this was his home. His brothers and sisters needed him.

********

Erik wandered over to Lochlan. “Well old man, what are we to do? Retire?”

Lochlan merely snorted, “No I have unfinished business to attend to. I plan to take a short trip north. I have an unfulfilled promise to fulfill.”

Erik nodded and grinned, “Well I guess we better plan to pack warm.”

Lochlan turned at the implied word, “We?”

“Well yes you old bastard, Roos needs to be placed to rest. Besides, you might die of old age before we get there.” Erik snorted.

“I can still take your ass.”

“Yeah yeah, but we should wait until after your nap.”

Lochlan looked at Erik and just guffawed a moment. “You know Erik, why the hell are we friends? You almost take my arm off and threaten the officers of this company.”

Erik faced Lochlan, “Because Lochlan, we deal with death day in and out, ours, others, and our friends. We let the little shit fall where it may because tomorrow is another day and perhaps our last. We moved beyond that point and we only know what it was like on the wall and in the breach. We understand each other and know each other’s minds now, although yours is a touch cobwebby.”

Lochlan snorted again, “You do realize I’ll have to make you pay for those old man comments.”

“Yeah, but not today… not today…”

The two men turned and walked towards Captain and Kent. Another day had come and it looked like tomorrow they would both see the sunrise. Right now, that’s all that mattered.

 

[unmerged(14268)]

[Note to Reduxer: A lot of this stuff should be inserted a long ways back.]

12 August 1440, Morning - Amric's Squad

"Hold the line! Prepare to accept the charge!" Cyril tightened his grip on his pike. The irritation from the rough lining of his gloves threatened to intrude into his consciousness, but he kept brushing it away to the back of his mind. There were worse conditions than a couple raw hands. "Cyril," Amric shouted," If that pikeman next to Geoffrey falls I want you here next to me as there isn't going to be anyone else. That will make us slightly thin here, but it can't be helped."

Pessimistic thinking, this chap. Pessimistic and morbid, said Cyril to himself, but he readily agreed. One thing he had learned in the Free Company is that life is much easier if you readily agree with your superior officer. "Got it. Ooops, there he goes, right in the throat too."

Cyril moved up next to the new sergeant and smiled grimly, "This is going to be a bit messy." And under his breath he said a quick prayer.

Amric nodded, "That it will. But I have no intention of retreating if it can at all be helped."

He breathed deeply and shouted, "I want to see a wall of Venetian bodies in front of this line! A human breastwork, if you will!" Quite morbid, but he sounds like he knows what he’s doing. Cyril leveled his weapon and gazed out at the approaching wall of gleaming pike points. His trained eyes sought out weaknesses but found few openings. The enemy was slowly but steadily climbing up the hill. One soldier was marching directly towards him, and Cyril locked eyes with him for several moments. Who will survive the first clash? And the next? And the one after that?

"Cyril, depending on how this goes I will either have to step in for Geoffrey or the fellow to his left. I want you to replace the fellow on his right if it becomes necessary. My guess is that it will."

And quite pessimistic. "Understood." Cyril tried to sound confident as he edged slightly towards Manfred Voss, the soldier on Geoffrey’s right which Amric had alluded to. I hope Manfred didn’t overhear the sergeant’s prediction...

--

12 August 1440, Midmorning – Amric’s Squad

"Hold the line!" Amric roared, "Push 'em back into the pit!"

As the reverberations of the order fell away, Geoffrey could faintly make out music coming from his right. “Music?” he asked himself. “Yes, music. And it sounds like...” After dealing with another Venetian, he spoke to Cyril out of the side of his mouth. “Cyril?”

“Sir?”

Geoffrey temporarily put aside the question of why another footman would call him ‘sir.’ “Why are you humming a mass?”

“Oh, it’s a habit I picked-“ Cyril broke off to block another strike. “... Picked up from my mother, who probably got it from Master William’s mother.”

After flinging another Venetian into the trench, Geoffrey gave tongue again. “Ah. I was wondering why you were humming the soprano voice in the wrong octave.”

--

12 August 1440, Midmorning - Baer’s Regiment

Suddenly there was quiet as Oskar fell. He was pierced in his left thigh and was pushed down. Cyril quickly stepped forward and filled the hole. Fear crept up in his throat as he saw the evil grins of the Venetians who tried to push the hole once more. Then he remembered his training and saw that one Venetian, in his impatience to exploit the hole, had run in front of his comrades. Cyril made a thrust at the man, using his forward momentum to put extra weight behind his blow. It easily passed through the slow guard and caught the Italian cleanly in the chest, halting both men in their tracks. Cyril watched transfixed as the Venetian fell to his knees, coughing up blood, a pike imbedded in his right lung. Cyril dropped his wedged pike and quickly picked up Oskar’s discarded weapon, which he had been descriptive of its usage. The remaining enemy, seeing that the hole had been plugged, were thwarted once more and Cyril sighed in relief as he saw Oskar get himself out of the way and hobble to the rear.

--

12 August 1440, Late Morning – Amric’s Squad

Amric, with Cyril in tow, exploded out of the hole and the swordsmen began to widen the breach by the simple expediency of cutting down the Venetians at the read and spreading it open like cooked clam at a beach party. The Venetian line began to curl away from the area. Cyril dropped Oskar’s beloved weapon and drew his sword to better support the thrust.

Pikemen nearby at the rear stopped pushing forward and tried to salvage the situation by turning toward the ravening company men. Amric told Cyril left to lead those men while he went right. Both curls trying to stop them were shattered before they could properly begin to form. The entire line in front of the Free Company pikes threatened to come apart at the seams.

"I want that breach widened!" Amric shouted," I want Milo to be able to drive 5 wagons side by side through there if it were to be required!"

“Why would it be required for Milo to drive 5 wagons side by side through here?” shouted Cyril. “Can’t he make due with 4? Or drive them in single file?” But the question went unheeded.

 

[redwolf]

August 12, Noon, Battle of Cremona

As the sounds of trumpets sounded across the battlefield, both armies broke off contact with each other. As the venetians retreated, Chen shouted," Let the venetians go but find me the leader and bring him to me!" As his men went looking for the leader, Chen and the rest rode to where the heads of his fallen men still adorned venetian pikes, the FC Flag flapping in the centre of the circle.

Moving to where Huang's head was, Chen sank to his knees and prayed for his spirit. As he was done praying, 2 of his men brought the venetians commander to him, their faces grim. Chen turn to stare at him, his face hard," On your knees scum!" snarled Chen. The venetian continued to stare at Chen with a defiant look but a kick from Sebutai quickly brought him to his knees. Chen grabbed his head and made him look at the heads of the fallen cavalrymen," Tell me, did you give the order for this to happen?"

The venetian gave an evil smile," Yes i did, and it's no more than what you mecenaries scum deserve." Chen looked into the venetian's eyes as he replied," Mecernaries or nobles or whatever, they are still humans, brave humans who had fought and died honourably in battle and the least you could have done is treat their dead bodies with respect."

The venetian refused to say anything but continued to stare at Chen defiantly. By this time, most of the Light Cavalry had gathered round to see the exchange between Chen and the venetian. Chen looked around at the crowd, then back the venetian. To everyone he said in a loud voice," A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye. You reap what you sow, venetian. As you have beheaded my brother in arms, now shall the favour be repaid." With a swift motion, he drew his sword and swung the sword down on his neck.

The blood of the venetian splattered on Chen's uniform even as his head rolled and came to a stop several meters away. The Light Cavalry was silent as Chen went over and pick up the venetian's head by the hair and walked over to where Huang's head was. Gently removing Huang's head from the pike, he then replaced it with the venetian's head.

Turning back to the rest of the Light Cavalry, he said," Remove the rest of the heads and try to find their bodies. Once everything is settled, we will bury them. As for the rest of the venetians, let them go. They have fought as honourable enemies and shall now be treated with respect. " With that, Chen took out a piece of cloth and covered Huang's head, then he walked off, gently cradling Huang's head as he went to look for Huang's body.

 

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The End of the Battle of Cremona-August 12th

Wilhelm was tired and worn, he had been fighting since early that morning. The Battle of Cremona was a minor battle compared to some others in France but he had the extra stress of losing his Rotting Corpse comrades.

Wilhelm made way toward Chen along the way he helped some hurt soldiers from both sides. One Venetian who was lying on the ground who was dying motioned for Wilhelm to come close. With caution, Wilhelm, set down next to the Venetian, laying the hurt soldiers on the ground.

"What do you want?" asked Wilhelm

"I know you!" said the Venetian

"How?"

"I was in Venice a few months ago on business"

"You see, I was the one who offered the Rotting Corpses a place with the Venetians, but you men were already hired, I was a personal friend of your leader and he gave me this letter"

Wilhelm looked at the letter, it said.....

To the Hanseatic League,

The Rotting Corpses accept your offer but we are preoccupied with a service in Northern Italy. We feel your offer of 3,000 ducats is a good sum for our services. However I need some time to gather new recruits and regroup my men before travelling to Lubeck. Again, thank you for asking for our services as we needed the work badly, for now the Holy Roman Empire will have to wait.

Signed Rotting Corpses Leader

"How did you come to be an average soldier?" asked Wilhelm

"I have no rank, only a skilled tongue which allows me to be a messenger at times. I thought I would be excused for this battle because of work I needed to finish but every man availible was gathered for this battle." responded the Venetian

"What do you know about this key?"

The Venetian took the key in his hand and examined it.

"It is the key to the future of the Hanseatic League!"

With that, the Venetian died, Wilhelm buried him.

Wilhelm took the letter and searched the Venetian for anything else. After that he took the hurt soldiers and made his way to the make shift hospital which was a plot of land for wounded soldiers to lay down with little medical assistance.

Wilhelm then came to Chen.

"You fight a good battle, Mongol, maybe we fight together again." said Wilhelm

 

[Valdemar]

Frederik fell back to the rear of the formation as Captain and a few remaining Company men spearheaded the formation of the dreaded horsemen and charged across the battlefield. Staying in the wake he wondered what exactly he was doing here and why Captain had asked him to join.

Then over the heads of the other riders he discovered the direction they were taking and finally understood his mission.

He pulled further back when they met the enemy charge and watched from a distance that Captain’s personal banner carrier feel beneath the hooves of the Venetian horses. What am I doing here? He spurred his horse and slit off it as he reached the fallen man. Once the charge had carried through the Italians he was back on his horse trying hard to handle the awkward cloth on a stick. Damn this is heavy.

Moments later it was all over and he saw Captain quickly end his foe, though it didn’t look like much of a fight.

“Wave the flag, Frederik, let the men know it is over.” Frederik clambered atop the abandoned wagon and swung the flag from side to side, and moments later trumpets sounded all across the field.

Captain continued a stream of orders, but Frederik was getting tired, the banner was heavy and he had had a long night of chasing assassins behind him.

“How much longer do you wish to make me do this?”

Captain laughed and motioned for him to stop.

Later as they passed back across the bloodied field towards the camp, Frederik still carried the banner right behind the victorious commander. Now that he didn’t have to swing it, it was more manageable, but he still felt very self-conscious especially when they passed through the part of camp, where the heavy cavalry were celebrating victory. Just as he thought himself safe a voice came up behind him.

*****

Johan had completed the last charge, what he thought to be the last stand of this newfound brotherhood of mercenaries, when he heard the trumpets.

Seeing the Venetians disengage, he felt drained, dropping the axe to the ground he allowed Hannibal to wander for a while aimlessly, before pulling himself together. He found the axe and hooked it in its usual place on the saddle, then he used the mighty warhorse to gather up, whatever loose horses that could be found and joined in, in bringing back fallen and wounded comrades, scattered across the field.

Hours had passed since the final call to retreat, and Johan had just brought back the one man he had truly been searching for. Bernhard was slumping on his oddly scrawny horse behind the German as suddenly Captain and his entourage returned to camp. Johan quickly made way for the Commander and turned to steer the two horses out of the way, when he noticed something familiar about the banner carrier.

Moments later he had dropped the reigns of Bernhard’s horse to a stable hand and was nudging Hannibal through the throng, trying to get close.

He eased the big beast up behind the banner,

“That’s a strange place for a man that has avoided honest work like the plaque for his entire life. And on a horse even.”

He could see Frederik cringe, then the man, only one year his senior turned and smiled, “No more strange than seeing you get out of trouble without my help.”

Johan grinned and was about to respond when Lochlan appeared, “Soldier, don’t you have a job to finish.”

Frederik held up a hand, “if you don’t mind and Captain permit, I’d like for him to tag along.”

Captain looked back over his shoulder with an unspoken question in his eyes, but nodded his accept.

Lochlan harrumphed, “one day, you need to tell me why.”

Frederik looked closely at Johan, then back at Lochlan, “Now is not the day for riddles, he is my brother.” Then he nudged on the horse and left Lochlan puzzled in the wake.

 

[redwolf]

"You fight a good battle, Mongol, maybe we fight together again." said Wilhelm. "Chin, Wilhelm." Chen said," I am a chin, not a mongol. Sebutai is a mongol. You see the differences between us?" Wilhelm nodded though he don't see any. Chen continued fighting," Whatever it is, it was a good fight and it's my honour to fight with you."

At that point of time, Sebutai walked over to Chen, saying" Chen i found this."
Chen took a look," It's Shur'tu's war bow. Speaking of which, how is he?"
Sebutai shook his head," No idea."
Chen replied," No matter, lets go over and see him now." They started walking towards the where the wounded lay. As they looked for Shur'tu, Chen came to a halt at one of the dead bodies. It was O'Barr. Damn it, though Chen. He went down on both his knees to say a prayer for his spirit.

O'Barr, I have hoped after the battle that we may clear up our differences but now there is no chance. I apologise for any things i have ever done or say to offend you. Rest well, my friend. Chen prayed. Finishing, he got up, took one last look at O'Barr and carried on to look for Shur'tu

When they found him, Shur'tu was surrounded by Dian Wu'tu and Gao. He appeared to be saying something to them. Lim and Zhang was slightly behind. Chen walked over to them and asked," How's Shur'tu?"

Lim and Zhang turned at the sound of their commander's voice. Zhang shook his head," Not good. He lost too much blood. The doctor says he won't last the hour." Chen stared in disbelief. Shur'tu dying too? How many friends was he going to lose today? Chen shoued," It's those damn doctors. They know nothing about healing. If only an Imperial Physician is here now, i am sure he can heal Shur'tu."

"That will be a sight. An Imperial Physician of Great Ming healing a mongol. Chen, come here please." Shur'tu said from his make shift stretcher, in a weak voice. As Chen approached Shur'tu, Shur'tu said," I heard you took over the Light Cavalry after i was hit. How did we do?" Chen took Shur'tu's hand and said," We won Shur'tu. The venetians leave the battlefield in retreat. The Free Company won. We cavalrymen cause no end of trouble to the venetians. It's all thanks to your training. It's your victory Shur'tu. We are now just waiting for you to get up to celebrate with us."

Shur'tu shook his head," You know as well as i do the arrow hit is fatal.You people will just have to celebrate on my behalf." Chen passed the war bow to Shur'tu," Shur'tu, your war bow. Sebutai picked it up in the aftermath of the battle."

Shur'tu eyes lit up at the sight of the war bow and for a moment, the strength returned to him as he took his war bow and held it affectionately. "It has been with me since i was born. To die with it in my hands.... my thanks Sebutai. Gao, an arrow please, I would like to fire one more arrow on my war bow." Gao started to protest, but when he saw the determined look on Shur'tu's face, he relented and passed an arrow to Shur'tu.

Shur'tu scanned the sky for a target. Seeing one, he took aim and fired. As he fired, he cried out in pain and fell back to the stretcher, all his strength gone. Eyes closed, breathing heavily, he asked," Was it a good shot?" No one knew. When Shur'tu cried out in pain, everyone's attention has been drawn back to him, the arrow forgotten.

Nonetheless, Gao with tears in his eyes, said," Yes Shur'tu it was a good shot. Coming from you, how can it be a shot?" But Shur'tu did not hear the answer. The Great Mongol Warrior Shur'tu had ceased breathing. Dian Wu'tu let out a fierce cry of anguish as his oldest friend passed away.

Chen looked away from the stretcher, unable to watch the emotional scene. In front of him, a bird lay dead on the ground, an arrow lodged in it, the arrow that Shur'tu had fired.

It had been a good shot after all.....

 

[Judge]

August 12, Battle of Cremona's Ending

It was a bitter moment. O´Brien lay on the ground dead after being mortally wounded. Geoffrey, Amric and Borroughs were all standing beside O´Brien watching his pale face, once vibrant now cold and lifeless.

“Ah God why did you allow this battle” said Borroughs in a lamenting voice.

“How did it happen” asked Geoffrey with great sorrow in his eyes.

“We were fighting five Venetians and O´Brien stroke many great blow and saved my life several times but suddenly a Venetian transfixed his body with a sword and I could clearly see when O´Brien fell to the ground”. Borroughs wept when he described the scene. “I cut down the bloody murderer but it was too late. O´Brien told me to take him back to our lines because he did not want to die among his enemies”.

“Did he manage to say his prayers” asked Amric in a worried voice.

“Indeed, we prayed together after I had carried him back” answered Bourroughs.

“Did he say something then” asked Geoffrey.

“Yes, he said that he had waited for this moment all of his life and he looked forward to the sensation of stepping into the dampness of a grave because he had always known that the grave was there and waiting for him. Then he sighed and closed his eyes for the last time".

“I knew he felt like that, I could see it in his eyes”. Geoffrey smiled bitterly and listened to the birds that had begun singing after the terrible battle.

“I suppose he found peace here at last” said Amric and went away shaking his head.

In the end only Borroughs stood beside the dead body. ”I guess we will meet in a place where there is no darkness, dear friend”. Slowly he sat down beside O´Brien and began to say his prayer

 

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12 August 1440, Afternoon – FC Wounded Depot

Kincaid was propped up against a small boulder, eyeing his heavy crossbow critically. The butt of the weapon was covered with blood from when, in desperation, he had used it to smash in his assailant’s nose. He gazed down the length of the weapon. Sights are out of line. Damn it. Should have drawn my sword earlier... Continuing to fiddle with his weapon, he didn’t realize someone was standing over him until the person cast his shadow onto his lap.

“You should be more alert than that.”

Kincaid looked up. The man was standing so that his head blocked the sun, and the morning star give the long haired soldier a sort of glowing aura. Kincaid recognized the voice as belonging to Landen. “Sir?”

“You should have heard me coming and looked up sooner.” He paused, but Kincaid didn’t have a rebuttal. “How are your wounds?”

“They sting, but the doctor said I should be fine.”

“Fine. I’m going to check up on the rest of our men.” Landen turned to go but paused momentarily. “You fought well today.”

“Thank you, sir. You commanded well today. It was an honor to be here with you.” He saluted, slightly hampered by the wound on his right shoulder. Landen half-smiled and sketched a gesture in reply and continued down the line of wounded.

Almost immediately, Kincaid noticed he had more visitors. Burke, Barker, and Nikolai were also coming down the line, apparently checking up on their wounded comrades as well. The big, burly Russian which, seen from Kincaid’s position on the ground, dwarfed the two Englishmen. He stopped in front of Kincaid and the other two followed suit. “How are you, Kincaid?”

William wondered how many times he had to answer that question. “I’m fine. The doctor said I should recover in a week or so.”

“That’s good. You acquitted yourself well today.”

“Coming from you, that is a great compliment. The sight of you cleaving through the enemy today was an inspiration.” Nikolai noted that Kincaid’s voice was clean of hauteur and sarcasm, but he remembered the nobleman’s words last night. Nikolai merely nodded and then gave Burke a meaning look.

Both Kincaid and Burke saw and read that look. “Yes...” began Burke. He coughed hesitantly. “You saved my life this morning. Thank you.” The words came out quickly, as if he wanted to get it over with.

“I was returning the favor. You blocked that Venetian which was about to slice open my back while I was dealing with someone else. I should be thanking you.”

“So you knew?”

“We are the rangers. We should always know what’s going on around us.”

Barker interjected. “Kincaid, you may be a lousy neighbor, but you are a fine soldier. Put ‘er there.” Kincaid shook the outstretched hand. Barker and Nikolai gave Burke another meaningful look.

Sighing, Burke began again. “We were glad to have you fight with us on this day.” He also extended his hand. After a beat, Kincaid accepted it. To make it complete, he also shook hands with Nikolai. By mutual agreement, the trio of visitors moved on down the line without another word.

“Nikolai?” The Russian stopped. Motioning the other two to continue, he went back Kincaid.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but the warrior of the steppe understood.

“You should join us for a drink sometime. You will get to know the other men better. They aren’t all as set against you as Burke.” Kincaid merely nodded. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, but the events of today had forged bonds which he could build upon.

“Master William! Oh my sainted aunt!” The shout had come from a long way off. Turning, but Kincaid and Nikolai could see a cloud of dust rising from a running, Cyril-shaped figure.

Kincaid rolled his eyes. “You ever seen a mother hen?”

Nikolai cracked a grin and withdrew before the panting manservant arrived. As he walked away, he could hear Cyril’s torrent of questions. “Are you wounded? Where are you wounded? What did the doctors say? Can I make you some soup? Can I fetch your pillow? Can I...”

 

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August 12 - Afternoon - Battles End

O'Floinn leaned against a tree and pulled a small bottle from his belt. Chen was looking for Shur'tu. O'Floinn had already seen him. It was near certain he was not going to be with them in another battle. After saying a prayer, he hadd gone to help with some wounded soldiers and then come to the tree to unwind a bit. He raised the the bottle, which was no larger than his hand, to his lips and drained it. An arrow flew into the air, taking a bird with it when it fell back to earth. The Celt didn't see where it came from. He had seen O'Barr wounded, but hadn't yet become aware of his death. He began to wonder what had happened to his brother, who had been in Constantinople during the assault.

 

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Lionel surveyed the battlefield. Soldiers carried off their wounded comrades, and prayed for the souls of fallen friends. Thankfully, proper tactics kept casualties low amongst the city-fighters. But Lionel had others to thank for it too, the pikemen for example. But Lionel wanted to look up another person first.

The bird skewered by Shur’tus arrow dropped from the skies, and hit the ground next to Lionel’s feet as he walked to the Chin and Mongol horsemen mourning their former commander. For the first time, Lionel could see the differences between the two groups of cavalrymen. But that wasn’t important anymore. He saw them fight as one; he saw them mourn as one.

“Me and my men,” Lionel began to the Chin commander; “Your cavalry made our operations possible.” “You watched our backs.” “For that, I thank you and salute you.” Chen, swept away by emotions, whispered of approval, after which Lionel and Chen paid their respects to Shur’tu, amongst the men of the light cavalry.

 

[The_Hawk]

Not far from the gathering of light cavalry, Alexander Whigmore and Carl van Krieg were gathered around the litter of George Finby. George had been lucky -- the crossbow bolt he took shattered a rib, but was deflected away from his lung. The road to recovery would be a long one, but he would live to fight again. The grim reality, of course, was that the surgeons probably would've written him off had he been brought in during the worst of the fighting -- being knocked out early had probably saved his life.

van Krieg surveyed the makeshift hospital and spied Chen. He patted George on the shoulder, and his hand drifted to his pouch. "I've got something to take care of," he said quietly, detaching himself from his friends.

He met Chen as the cavalryman and his aides departed Shur'tu's side. "Chen," he said simply. The Chin looked surprised to see him, but nodded in greeting, cautiously. Carl paused for a long moment to see if the light cavalry's new commander was going to speak, before finally barging ahead.

"Paddy O'Barr met his end on the field. He wanted... we want... to apologize for... earlier. It wasn't brotherly." He nodded to Zhang, who inclined his head in response. "They tell me that you held the Venetian cavalry in place while we were engaged. Well, you're a Company man, to be sure. As brave as that one," he said, pointing past the Chin towards Shur'tu's body, "who saved us in the City."

Carl looked embarassed. "Look at me, gabbin' on like this. Listen, I figure O'Barr would want you to have this." He produced a thin chain; on the end was a tiny oval of glass, and within was a four-leaf clover. "These're considered good luck where O'Barr came from. 'tain't much use to him anymore, but it was the only thing that mattered to him. Well, that and his shillelagh, but I don't know what good that'd do you on horseback."

He handed over the bit of jewelry, and gave the Chin and nod and a grin.

 

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August 12th - Cremona (After the battle)

Frederik looked closely at Johan, then back at Lochlan, “Now is not the day for riddles, he is my brother.” Then he nudged on the horse and left Lochlan puzzled in the wake.

The view was breathtaking, in a horrible sort of way. The field was covered in the dead, the dying, and the wounded. The living, though numerous, seemed to shrink to a much smaller presence.

"I love when they enlighten us like that after the battle is already over." Captain muttered, not quite under his breath, and Lochlan chuckled.

"Robert, with us, the battle is never over. We just rest from time to time." The ranger turned to wave Erik Jaeger over, the german lieutenant had been chatting with Kent while Captain and Lochlan had spoken with Frederik.

"Erik." Captain said softly. "Find Jacques and get the men organized, find out who's alive and who..." The commander of the Free Company trailed off.

Jaeger nodded in understanding. "Yes sir." The german saluted and headed off, taking Kent with him when they left.

"You alright Lochlan?" Robert asked his second in command.

"Oh yeah, I'm just..." Lochlan stopped suddenly. "No, I'm not alright Robert." The ranger's hand moved lightly across the hilt of his curved blade. "I'm getting old, relying on experience and cunning rather than strength and speed more than anyone realizes."

"Were both old Lochlan, we were aged prematurely at that place." Captain didn't need to say it, but they both thought it anyway, Constantinople. "It's changed the company forever you know."

The ranger nodded. "I've noticed it as well, though we might be the only two who know what it was before." Lochlan smiled crookedly. "Now anyway."

"True."

"I just want whatever the hell is wrong with me to play itself out and be done with it. Though, if it helps, my nightmares stopped."

Captain just looked at him, Lochlan had always avoided telling him about the images and sensations that kept him awake at night.

Lochlan ran his fingers through his hair, which now hung loose, blowing slightly in the light breeze which ran along the ridge the company had first occupied. "You know Robert." He paused and sighed, the words weren't there.

"I know." Captain said.

 

[Lord Durham]

August 12, 1440 - Cremona - Evening - Post Battle

"I know." Captain said. He left the Ranger and found a spot to remove his armour.

The storm clouds that had threatened all day finally opened. The drizzle of rain quickly became a minor irritant. Many of the survivors gathered around sputtering campfires, some quietly eating while others stared into the distance mumbling silent prayers. On the distant hills the remnants of the defeated Venetians disappeared humbly beyond the darkened horizon.

Stripped down to his tunic, Captain walked carefully with the step of a man whose entire body ached. He followed the long rows of Company dead, pausing at each for a few moments of quiet reflection. It had been a grand victory, but a costly one in terms of lost veterans.

A familiar voice drifted to him. He turned. It was Father Falkenberg. The aged monk slipped from his donkey and shuffled over. He stopped beside Captain and tossed the heavy cowl back from his tonsured head. "It is good to see you are well, Father."

"As are you, my son." He looked up and down the row of bodies. "It would appear that I have much work to do, tomorrow."

Captain sighed, ran a scarred hand across his brow to remove some water. "Indeed. I think we shall hold a mass for the fallen. I am sure the Mongols and Chin will wish to honour their own, too. Tomorrow shall be a day of mourning."

The two companions, friends from many years past, continued to walk. Falkenberg said, "It was a near thing, you know."

"Eh? The battle? Yes, if it wasn't for Cosimo..."

"That's what I mean. Cosimo did not make his decision until the last moment. And I fear it was not made for love of the Company, Robert. It was a political move. Cosimo understood that Venice would be too strong if he threw in his lot with them. But now, the balance of power is restored."

"So, he didn't believe Osman?"

The monk shrugged. "That I can't answer, my son. Cosimo will have to deal with that revelation in his own time."

There was more silence, then Captain said, "Well, Ancona's not that bad a city, you know."

Falkenberg chuckled, halted. "My lady."

Constance, her slim body covered in a heavy cloak, rushed up to Robert and took him in a passionate embrace. Moments passed until they separated. She looked him over. "Christ's teeth, Robert, you look like Hell itself - begging your pardon, Father."

Father Petronius continued to chuckle. "I shall leave you two alone. I should inquire about Father Holmes and Cardinal Bertilucci. Yes, I should."

The monk drifted away.

Constance took Sir Robert's hand in hers. "What now, my love?"

"What now? For now we rest and honour our dead. Then... then I'll treat you to the best meal in Cremona."

Constance slid her arm around his. Together they walked into the night, passing under the proud black-on-black banner of the Free Company.