The Free Company- Book V: Bloody Retribution

[stnylan]

Baer walked over to Adler and waved him back to his position. “AT EASE MEN!”

There was an audible rush of air as the men released their breaths collectively. Hehehe, they have learned that little trick.

“Take a knee.” Again groans as the men squatted down before the Sergeant.

“Okay, I have some rather bad news to tell you all.” The men looked about themselves and he heard Oskar start into another one of his long renditions of something. “Secure it Oskar, NOW!” Baer glare seemed to burn a hole in the poor German’s head. “This is serious.”

How am I to tell them that they are being sent off to die? If they were trained that would be one thing, but two weeks of training? Gods these men… no boys… will most likely end up dead before the next month is out.

Oskar was watching Baer and Lieutenant. "I wonder what the hell they are talking about? See the officer? He looks likes he's in a mood. Ahh don't worry about the puke Cyril, it'll wash off. Just think though that Latrines for today are already assigned. Og bugger he Grizzly is, coming back. Cor he looks angry."

Baer indeed stalked back and shouted, “AT EASE MEN!”

There was an audible rush of air as the men released their breaths collectively.

“Take a knee.” Again groans as the men squatted down before the Sergeant.

“Okay, I have some rather bad news to tell you all.”

"So what is new Grizzly. What is it.."

“Secure it Oskar, NOW!” Baer glare seemed to burn a hole in the poor German’s head. Oskar looked startled. “This is serious.” There was something in Baer's tone that made Oskar quiet - though those nearby noticed him starting to fidget.

“Men, we’ve been given marching orders,” There was a groan as they prepared for another drill session, “No you misunderstand, we go to war and soon. So you better get it into your thick skull just how little time we have left and realize how poorly trained you are right now. I want you to break for lunch and grab something to eat, nothing too filling. Meet back here and grab the others too. I want the whole unit practicing together. ADLER! Go get the remaining German and Swiss Pike, it’s time to show these boys what a real pike formation is and can do. We have a lot of training to do and very little time to do it. By God if I can bring you all back I will, Get to know those around you, these men will very soon be the men you will count your life on and they you. We’re about to get down to some serious training. You’re looking at 16 hour training days or more.” Another groan, “Damn you all, do you want to die because you’re not ready to fight?”

Baer shook with rage, not really angry at his men, but at the whole futility of it all. “Now go eat and meet here in an hour. We have work to do.” Baer turned and walked off, heading straight towards his tent to start packing.

Oskar jumped up to get food. "So that what all the business is. Well, we're going to be knackered. Heaven's I'll be glad to get back on a boat at the end of this. Mind you, I just hope I get a chance to have a whore before we go. Meanwhile what do we have to eat? Stewed mutton. Great. Hey, where's Gerd? What in the bleeding name of Mary is that idiot doing?"

Gerd had remained sitting when the others left. He appeared thoughtful. A quick look confirmed he was probably on his own, so he got up and walked quickly after Baer. He stamped his foot loudly to get the sergeant's attention.

Baer turned, "Gerd! What are you doing. Get your grub!"

Gerd held up one hand, palm outward. He then smiled openly, an exaggerated smile, and then gestured with one hand at Baer, seeming to indicate him in some fashion. Then he replicated the grip Baer had shown him earlier exactly, and repeated the earlier gesture. And then he waited.

 

[unmerged(10971)]

Cavalry field-Late morning to noon

Jean brought his new command together. He noticed his own Italians were starting to work well with their neighbours. Good, perhaps we can learn this new system after all.

"I need to assign leaders for each group of ten. I've seen how you've done and know exactly who I want. First, group one: Third one from my left, the Mongol." He got his name. "Good. Now..." He made three more Mongols, four Italians, a Frenchman, and the Irishman named O'Floinn the other leaders.

They practiced for a short while. This system is almost as good as the old one--but not nearly as flexible. Jean sighed. What he had forgotten to tell the Mongol was that he could split up each group into two, then two again... Minus himself, he had had 64, and could make groups of 32, 16, 8, 4, 2, or even 1. Now he was stuck with 10. But there were more important things to worry about...

He called the cavalrymen over to him again. After they ate lunch, he called upon a random cavalryman. "How well do you know the men in your group?"

"Fairly well."

"Not good enough. That man beside you is your brother. The rest are also brothers. Your group leader is your father. Not like your father... is your father. Do what he says... or you will not only kill yourself, but likely even the whole group. God gave us as one of his commandments: Honour your father, that you may have a long life upon the Earth. Remeber that, especially with your new fathers."

Those who knew the various languages translated for the others. Everybody seemed to get the message.

I'm going to have to have the group leaders--and myself--learn some phrases in all these different languages.

Jean shook off that thought. Again, there were more important things. "Back to your training!"

 

[unmerged(14268)]

18 March 1440, Early Afternoon, FC Camp

Cyril had crawled part way into the tent before the smell hit him full force. Having spent the past couple of weeks around Baer and his victims, he knew what that smell meant. The Young Master has received latrine duty. Well, it was only a matter of time.

Kincaid, who had been lost in thought, was surprised at Cyril's entrance and quickly tucked away the locket and the curls of auburn hair he kept hidden in it. Being the model feudal servant, Cyril delicately avoided exacerbating his master's obvious embarrassment. It was not his place to comment on it. Nor would he bring up the nauseating stench that was making his stomach turn. "'ullo, Master William! What are you doing here?"

"Lieutenant Lochlan got called off to an officer meeting." Cyril noted that the Young Master has stopped emphasizing the word "officer" in his speech. Perhaps he's gotten over not receiving a commission by now? As Cyril thought over these things, he continued to listen to Kincaid. "The rangers got a break while he is occupied. Well, they got a break; I got latrine duty. I apologize for the smell, Cyril. I changed my clothes and scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but I can't get the stink out. I'll understand if you want to bunk outside tonight."

Not you sleep outside, eh? But it wasn't his place to question his employers either. I'll just have to air the tent out tomorrow morning. "Quite all right, sir. I can 'ardly notice anything. Shall I fetch you some lunch?" He gestured to his plate.

"No, I already had some." At this juncture, Kincaid found it impossible to stifle his yawn.

"Ya must be tired, sir. I'll be popping off to the tavern so you can get some peace and quiet."

"No, don't go!" The voice betrayed a hint of desperation, which Kincaid quickly squashed. How does one go about striking up a conversation with one's servant? "Erm... how has your training been going?"

Cyril pretended that he had noticed nothing, but he was having a hard time controlling a smirk. Poor Master William. When will he learn that it's his behavior that makes people avoid him so. "Oh, it's coming along. This pike is an odd weapon. Me arms are gettin' sore from holdin' it in position all day. Give me a sword any day."

"Do you want me to ask for you to be transferred? We told Captain that you were a swordsman, and yet he puts you with the pikes."

"I believe many of the new recruits 'ave been put in the pikes on purpose. Lieutenant Jaeger's regiment was rather depleted in the fighting in Constantinople."

"But it's a shame that a perfectly good sword should be used as novice pike. Are the men treating you okay?"

"Oh, yes, sir. In fact, today Artur de Bloomfield threw up on me. While tis not exactly a compliment, he's thrown up on just about everyone else, and it's good to not be left out." The friendly (though disgusting) gesture warmed Cyril's heart, and he smiled.

Well, at least Cyril is fitting in. "And Baer isn't singling you out?"

"Oh, no. Well, bein' twice the age of the other recruits, he has me running extra laps to get me into condition. But no, he isn't giving me special attention, if you pardon the colloquialism. If ya follow orders well enough, ya can avoid his tongue for the most part. And I've spent all me life servin' your family, carryin' out their orders." He smiled again. "Actually, Sergeant Baer is like a younger, German version of yer great-Grandfather, if ya don't mind my takin' the liberty of sayin' so, sir. Ya were too young to know him, but I had the pleasure of growing up in the house'old while he was patriarch. The portrait of 'im in the library captured him perfectly. Great big bushy, caterpiller eyebrows and bad breath are the traits I remember most about 'im. The eyebrows because they twitched when he was shouting at ya, as if he was deciding whether or not to take the battleaxe off its place o'er the mantle and 'ave at ya. And the bad breath because he yelled at me on several occasions at close proximity. Yes, Sergeant Baer resembles yer grandfather so much 'tat I almost get homesick sometimes.

"It's a hard life, but I'm doing just fine, Master William. No need for you to worry, but thank you for yer concern, sir."

Kincaid was suffering mixed emotions. On the one hand, Cyril isn't being put upon because he is associated with me. On the other hand, I'm the butt of the rangers, and there's no one to sympathize with?

"'ow are ya getting along with the rangers, Master William?" Cyril, knowing William Kincaid as he did, already knew the answer, but a good servant must subtly remind his employer about these things. Before Kincaid could say his second "um" or think of an acceptable lie, Cyril offered him an escape. He leaned outside and gauged the sun. "Oh, look at the time. I 'ave to get back to training, sir. I may be late getting back tonight. Sergeant Baer has us on a 16-hour training schedule now."

Kincaid jumped at the change of topic. "Really? How come?"

"Why, don't ya know, sir? 'tat was the whole reason of the officer conference, 'pparently. The Free Company moves out in two days."

 

[Valdemar]

early afternoon, in the camp

Kent slowly stood in front of his men, all three hundred of them as they assembled in a far of corner of the field. A lot of them still were without proper mounts and stood in front of those fortunate few recruits that had brought their mounts here or those veterans that had been fortunate enough to be able to buy some or been appointed one of the few scores of mounts that the company had been able to secure.

He looked at his command. At the moment properly the best prepared part of the Company, they had been relatively lightly hit in Constantinople and their group was pretty homogenous in the sense that their tactics didn’t need to take into account integrating different styles. If you were a man-at-arms, then you could ride and charge, that was it. So far they had primarily trained to keep the men ready and get them acquainted with one another. He sighed, not that the training had been really effective without the necessary mounts, but still, they now knew the rudimentary communications and tactics favored by the Company. He drew a big breath and looked at the assembled men.

“Men, today we have been giving marching orders.”

A slight stir ran through the group, but nobody spoke.

“The precise destination is not revealed yet, but we leave in two days, all efforts are given to find mounts for you, so that you may acquaint yourself with your partner before you leave.”

A grunt of approval this time.

“Further, a two weeks pay has been released to you, so that you may settle whatever business you have here on the Island with honor.”

A little laughter this time.

“Remember men, you represent the Company, we are the solid steel gloved that punch at the right moment, but all have their worth in this Company, all have a role to fulfill.” He glared at the assembled men, “I expect you all to behave honorably, you may not all be knights, but I will not tolerate any behavior towards the rest of the men, nobody here is worth more than anybody else. That’s all dismissed until the mounts arrive.”

The men quickly scattered and sought towards Milo to get their pay and Kent remained seated on his horse looking after them, he knew how it was to be a young knight believing that the world owed them something, that they were the cream of the army and all should defer to them. He sighed, he hoped nobody was going to get hurt tonight, so far lack of funds had kept most of it under wraps, but with the prospect of war he especially feared for the younger recruits.

Johan reached down and slapped Bernhard on the shoulder, “You got lucky there, otherwise you would have to run at night with the tab you have gotten yourself.”

Bernhard grinned, “Well lets hope they pay Artur as well or we’ll have to leave him here tending sheep to pay for HIS tab.”

Johan laughed out loud, “Indeed, but most of your pay goes to me, you owe me more than two weeks salary, especially after you have paid the rent of your equipment.”

Bernhard nodded sourly, but Johan merely grinned again, “Don’t worry my friend, I’ll leave you enough to get drunk tonight and tomorrow, you can pay the rest next time.”

Bernhard brightened, “Perhaps I can get lucky with the dice.”

Johan snorted, “Not likely, they all know you by now. No I’ll go and see if that blonde barmaid wants to see me of in style.”

 

[TheWildFerret]

March 18th – Noon – Company Camp

Baer turned, "Gerd! What are you doing. Get your grub!"

Gerd held up one hand, palm outward. He then smiled openly, an exaggerated smile, and then gestured with one hand at Baer, seeming to indicate him in some fashion. Then he replicated the grip Baer had shown him earlier exactly, and repeated the earlier gesture. And then he waited.

Baer looked at the gesture and raised an eyebrow. “Well you’re welcome, it was a simple thing, but you need to grip the pike as you would a lover. Strong and firm but not a strangle hold.”

Gerd shook his head indicating that that’s not what he meant and tried to gesture again.

“eh? Okay I get the ‘you’ part, well me part.” Baer watched as the young pikeman went through the gestures again and slower.

“Gerd, I’m not sure I understand you. What does the grip from earlier and me have to do with each other?” Baer seemed a bit confused as he tried to figure out the strange hand-signals.

Gerd let out a heavy sigh and then did the first gesture, the palm outward, exaggerated smile and then gestured at Baer.

“Okay, this indicates me in some way?”

Gerd nodded his head and urged Baer on a little bit.

“Alright so me… hmmm… smile… hmmm… Oh wait, you’re happy with something about me?” Baer looked at Gerd

Gerd thought for a moment and nodded his head hesitantly.

“Okay maybe not happy, but something close?”

Gerd nodded

“Alright next gesture?”

Gerd showed the grip again, then he also mimicked a couple other training steps.

“Okay I think I got this one, training?”

Gerd nodded.

“Okay you’re something with me about the training… You’re happy... but not really happy. Damn Gerd, we’re going to have to get Lochlan to teach us their hand signals so we can communicate better. Okay, so you’re not happy, but close… satisfied?”

Gerd shook his head no

“Content?”

No

“Thankful?”

Yes

“Alrighty… we’re moving along. So you’re thankful for the training?”

Yes

“Well I’m happy I could accommodate your expectations… now go eat!” Baer bellowed.

Gerd sighed, turned around and started walking away shaking his head.

Baer watched the young man for a moment and shook his head as well. He needed to find Erik or Lochlan and talk to them about teaching him and Gerd some of the hand signals. Maybe from there they could have a start on real communication.

Baer walked towards the tavern, his gear could wait for now. He needed to find one of those two, this little run in with Gerd stressed how important communication was among the men.

 

[Storey]

March 18th – Afternoon – Company Camp


Geoffrey wasn’t sure which was worst. Digging latrines or drilling with a pike. When Cyril had stopped by and told Artur and him to get something to eat and then report to the training grounds he had been relieved. Now he wasn’t so sure. His hands were starting to blister from the latrine digging and his attempt to handle his pike. Muscles that he only knew about because of his studies of Galen’s "Anatomy of the gladiators of Pergamon" while a student in Bologna were crying out their protests at their mistreatment on the training ground. Finally Sergeant Baer brayed a command to halt and stand at ease. Geoffrey planted his pike’s butt end on the ground and leaned on it with pitiful relief. His attempt at resting was interrupted when a welcomed shadow fell across his face. Thinking that a passing cloud had graced the sun with a shroud he looked up and beheld the impressive scowl of Sergeant Baer as he towered above him. Funny he didn’t remember the sergeant being so tall.

"Having a nice rest are we Geoffrey?"

"Ah, yes Sergeant Baer."

"I’m so glad to hear that. Nothing warms my heart like seeing a soldier use his weapon as a resting pole. I suppose you use your sword to dig ditches? Or your knife to eat soup?"

"Well I don’t have a sword sergeant and…"

It was about this time that Geoffrey realized the rhetorical aspect of the sergeant’s question. He had to reluctantly acknowledge to himself that he was in deep, deep shit. He could think of nothing that would grate on the sergeant more that a soldier misusing his weapon. Not for the first time he had second thoughts on the wisdom of joining the Free Company.

 

[unmerged(14966)]

18 March 1440 - Afternoon at the Free Company camp

"Ready...up!"

Four guards pulled back on the side poles. From the light canvas two bumps slowly rose, tugging against the cloth like an animal exploring the contents of a discarded bag. For a moment they hovered, then settled into a perverse vee. Two more men pulled the supporting ropes taught along the raised wall. A short, stout Scot with well worn armor eyed the activity appraisingly from the vantage point of a substantial mound of crates and equipment.

"Switch!"

The four guards gently released their grasp on the sidewall poles, then ran to the opposite sidewall to repeat the process. One of the center bumps swayed for a moment, accompanied by a muffled burst of profanity.

"Ready...UP!"

The four side poles slid up with some swaying, pulling, and prodding. As soon as a pole reached a near vertical position it was quickly tied down. With the side wall poles secured, the front and rear poles were attended to. In moments the nondescript bumps gave way to the respectable form of a campaign tent. The men slowly gathered around Pierce as the tent was secured.

"Alright, get things inside. Winds changed, we might have some weather tonight. Hopefully his Lordship will have graced us with his presence by then."

-----------------------------

Bertande was exiting the tent when he noticed several Free Company men standing near a tree watching their activities. One removed a pipe from his mouth and nodded. Bertande nodded back, and turned to see Henri exiting the tent. He waved, and the two men wandered over.

"Hello." The man fiddled with his pipe.

"Greetings. I'm Bretand."

"Well met. Paul of Sussex, ranger. This here is Will, and the short fellow is Erwin. He's a pike from the Rhinelnd when his arms aren't in slings."

The short man stepped up smiling, one arm bound in a sling and the other well scarred. "That's Ervine. The honor's mine."

"Henri, guard. Well met."

A small commotion came from towards the center of camp. Two riders had entered, and the leader of the pikes had made directly for them. The men watched in silence as the large German spoke to the riders. Soon the riders angled across the grass towards them. It was the ranger who finally broke the silence.

"So. What brings you here?"

Henri looked at him. The man was easily ten years his senior, and kept his greying hair cropped short. "I imagine the same thing that brought you." Lochlan and Landen were upon them before any man chose to respond.

"Fifteen minutes in the grounds, with gear. Move it Will, and take those two pretty boys with you." Lochlan was gone before he could respond, looking for the next group of rangers.

"Time to go to work. Was a pleasure gents." Paul extended a hand towards Bertande. He shook it, and nodded.

"Aye, so it seems." Landen had already vanished into the campaign tent.

----------------------------

"Change of plans it seems."

"Are you planning to share, or are we going to be led on the mysterious journey by the hand of the almighty?" The men chuckled, and Alain grinned.

"Fifteen minutes and form up, we're all part of the the Free Company rangers now." To Landen's surprise, there was no complaint. "Pierce, you and the tinkers stay put. Get your tent up. Do repairs as needed, tack, harnesses, whatever. Watch out for men who don't appear to take care of their gear, or worse don't know how to use it. No replacements, they can go to the camp quartermaster. At some point we have to talk to him directly as to how best work with him." Pierce and his tinkers nodded, their gear already off and stowed.

"The horses will stay at the stables. Keep an eye on the count, the cavalry is scrounging for anything they can get. Jacques, anything to report on them?"

"Nothing. For two weeks shipboard, they were remarkably healthy."

"Good. The news is that we are moving to an engagement in two days time." The smiles faded some in the tent, save for Landens. "Seems some survivors from Constantinople are besieged, and we're going to retrieve them. The other news, is I am now a Sergeant." The men laughed, and Pierce growled. Landen knew he would take it as an insult. He'd discuss it when time allowed on the ship. "Alright, lets get moving."

"What about personal gear?"

"Leave it Remi, you won't be needing it for now. Tomorrow I want you to go to the Order and make arrangements to storage our personal effects with them." Landen was halfway out of the tent already. "If at all possible, I don't want to be involved."

-------------------------------

Kincaid was surly moving towards the assembly. Lochlan had ruined a perfectly good nap with his notion of playing war. He noticed a new tent set up as he passed.

So that's the source of all that noise. Someone really should put them in their place for not being more considerate.

"I am...Sergeant."

Kincaid's ears burned at the muffled words. Someone had been commissioned, and it wasn't HIM. He stopped in his tracks and smoldered in indignation for a moment.

"..possible, I don't want to be involved."

He moved with angry footsteps away, avoiding the man coming from the tent.

Not only do they promote a simpleton clod, he's one who doesn't want the position!

 

[unmerged(10397)]

"Men, we will leave for Greece soon, I am almost positive it is true."

O'Floinn paused and looked at the 10 men seated in front of him. He pointed to a Greek.

"What is your name and where are you from?"

"I am George, I come from Athens"

"What is the name of the man behind you?"

George paused for a moment before answering.

"Allen"

"Is that right?"

The man named Allen nodded.

"Know the men you ride with, know what they can do and rely on them to do it. You are all good fighters, now you will learn to be warriors. Remember your team, if you get killed, they probably will be too. Get your horses. Each of you is going to teach us something."

O'Floinn whistled loudly. His horse trotted over. The other men returned after a few minutes with their horses, who had been tied up a bit away.

"So who wants to start?

 

[unmerged(14966)]

18 March 1440 - Afternoon in the Company area

Robert was in position with most of the other rangers. Already he could see William Kincaid was in a mood. Some of the other rangers were more chatty than normal, especially when several new men appeared and shook hands with them. The men seemed pleasant enough, and they were all similarly equipped. To his surprise one of the newer men took position beside him.

"Henri." The man's hand was outstretched.

"I'm Robert."

-----------------------------

Landen and Alain watched from the side as the group assembled. There were a few familiar faces from the walls of Constantinople, but most were completely new to them. Several were young nearing the point of excess.

"Sergeant Landen, de Marquis de Andrecount, Earl of Glenslaigh, Leiturges Escopi Anders." Foppy chuckled quietly, Landen grinned a little brighter. "I hope you don't expect me to actually write that."

"Since when do you write anything?"

"Touche. Lochlan have anything interesting to say. Beyond you're promoted, we're going to war, and thanks for the horses?"

"He had some questions."

"Questions...?" The Alsatian waited on it for a moment. His friend showed no signs of answering. "Questions about? Wine? Women? Song?"

"Just questions." The grin was larger. "I didn't give away your secret."

"What secret?"

"Secret?"

"WHAT secret?"

"Exactly." Alain rolled his eyes in surrender, leading to a chuckle from Landen. "He asked about where we stood."

"I knew that'd come up at some point. Enlighten me?"

"Our loyalty is to the Free Company. Guillies has twenty-four of the men still, he should be well attended to. If we run into an issue, we'll deal with it."

"Always the diplomat. Looks like the gents are fitting in ok."

"So far. The news isn't out yet. As long as that smell isn't a sign of things to come, we'll be fine." Landen was grinning. It was something Alain hadn't seen much of over the last few years. But since the fall, the smile was almost incessant. His eyes gleemed, almost as if they were somehow larger. "Lochlan's here."

----------------------------

"Alright you lot! Stand with your backs straight, and quiet!" Lochlan spurred his horse in a circle, watching the rangers. His rangers.

"There's changes upon us, so pay attention. First, being as the Captain has seen fit to make my life challenging, I'm going to be acting as the executive now." Lochlan watched and waited as the murmurs died down. "Don't go getting it into your heads that this means any favors to you! Second, from today you've a new commander. Some of you might remember him as the sod who made a bloody huge hole in the outer wall with his head." Before they could react, Lochlan pushed on. "Sergeant Landen, get up here."

Landen could feel the eyes on him as he moved forward. It was a moment of truth, in some ways as large as the Battle of the Breech. For a fleeting moment, Landen hoped he had made the right decision.

"Landen's group is used to working slightly differently. They're used to the shadows, all that cloak and dagger stuff. They're mobile. And they're mounted. They have alot to offer us, just as we have alot to offer them. Open those thick skulls and learn boys."

Lochlan spurred his mount around again, and settled looking at Landen. "They're all yours." Both men wondered if the challenge would pan out.

-------------------------------

Landen faced the fifty odd men before him. "I'm Sergeant Landen. Unfortunately, I bring mixed news. First, there are a dozen or so more men in the rangers today with experience. Unfortunately they, and I, will have to learn to fit in. Secondly, and more importantly, we have forty-eight hours to learn to work as a team. Apparently some of the survivors of the fall of Constantinople are holed up and under siege, and we are going to the rescue." There was a mixed moan of anger, frustration, and fear from the mass of men.

"How many experienced riders do we have?" Eighteen men raised their hands, half his own. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"How many have never touched a mount." Two hands sheepishly went up. Landen's stomach sank.

"Today you will learn. From now until darkness everyone will get comfortable with horses, their care, and how to handle them. The experienced will work with the inexperienced. At darkness we'll break for dinner, then work on hand signals." Some murmurs went through, decidedly unemotional. Landen moved forward and began tapping men on the shoulders.

"You, you. You there. You. You also. And you." The last was William Kinkaid. "If you are in camp, you will be in your equipment. Armor is mandatory, no excuses. For the next two days you're on meal duty. At dusk and dawn you'll collect food for the remainder of the rangers." Landen didn't wait for the retorts.

"If you have any gear needing repair, see Pierce in the smithy tent over there. Straps, buckles, blades needing ground, riveting, they can do it. It will be unacceptable to have gear needing repair when we hit the boarding planks. They will not replace anything! For that you see the Company Quartermaster. When dismissed follow that man." Landen pointed to Jacques, standing at the end of the first row. "He's in charge of the mounts. Dismissed." No one moved.

"MOVE!" This time the men jumped.

 

[Secret Master]

March 18th, Venice, Afternoon, Doge's Palace

It was a very pleasant day in Venice. The sun was shining, wind was blowing, and the faintest hints of spring were calling attention to themselves. It was, in a word, beautiful.

Foscari was ignoring this beauty as he sat in his chair. His fingers were hard at work forcing the quill to perform its task. Letters appeared upon the page in rapid, yet dignified fashion. First one, then another letter was penned as the Doge of Venice personally attended to these important matters. No scribe or mere servant would have access to the information contained in them. No, a special envoy was needed. And the Doge knew just who to send. He turned to one of his servants.

"Send for Mario Vespucci."

"Yes, my lord."

The fingers continued their task. It was not until after an hour that they stopped from the labors and rested. It was then that the servant announced Mario's arrival.

"Send him in."

The man named Mario entered the Doge's chamber. He was perhaps over thirty, but his eyes belied the patience and dark wisdom of one twice his age. His movements were those of a tiger: noble, elegant, and preadatory. His eyes never left the Doge as he spoke.

"You sent for me, my lord."

"Yes, I have a task for you."

"And that would be?"

Foscari's eyes narrowed.

"It would be delivering these letters to Cyprus and Constantinople."

"Letters, my lord?"

"Yes. Important letters."

Mario let the sentence hang in the air.

"Even if they are just letters, my price will be the same."

"I am well aware of how valuable your time is. I would compensate you no less. That is how much I value the business they deal with."

"Very well, my lord."

"You will give me a detailed report of anything unusual, of course."

"I would do nothing less for the wage you pay me."

"Excellent."

The Doge paused as he sealed the letters with his ring. He handed the letters to Mario. Without a word, Mario took them and withdrew from the Doge's chamber.

 

[The_Hawk]

Afternoon, The Lazy Dolphin

Maria and Frederik sat at a corner table in the Free Company's tavern, waiting for the evening's approach. While the Company themselves had much to do in preparation, only a few orders needed to be given to prepare the fleet, and Maria had already issued those via runners. She had been ready to leave for some time.

The Company men largely avoided the couple, some because word of Osman's fate had spread. Maria hardly noticed, concentrating as she was on her mulled wine.

"You know, Osman can't be that well protected," she mumbled.

Frederik gave her a sidelong glance. "But protected by Company men."

"I'm sure they'd allow you access; they all know you..."

"Actually, I think Captain probably ordered them to deny both of us access."

"You're a clever fellow, Frederik, I'm sure you can figure something out. No matter what Captain thinks, we could do without Osman..."

"No." Frederik reached out and placed a hand on Maria's. "Forget about Osman. He's a Company captive -- you know as well as I do that he'll get what he deserves eventually. For now, we have a job to do -- rescue Dimitris, and keep the Empire alive." He took a deep breath. "I know that would have meant a lot to Jonasz..."

Maria's head snapped up, and she looked at him, surprised. Then she nodded. "Yes, I suppose he would have. The Byzantines meant a great deal to him."

She scanned the room just in time to see Artur de Bloomfielde enter. Inwardly, she thought, shouldn't he off training somewhere? Outwardly, she groaned. "Nevermind about killing Osman... it's going to take all my energy to restrain you... and myself... from killing that one."

 

[unmerged(6528)]

March 18th, Early Evening - The Free Company Camp

"Dismissed." Landen said curtly as Lochlan rode rather casually out of earshot. "MOVE!" Was the last thing the ranger heard as his horse carried him into the main camp.

Lochlan was still chuckling when he was flagged down by Shur'tu, who looked a bit on the worn side. "Lochlan." He said, nodding jerkily. 'You wanted to know how my men are?"

The ranger nodded, and swung himself down from his horse so he could talk face to face with the mongol. “Shur'tu there you are. So what do you have to report?”

“The Moors are capable warriors. The Europeans are acceptable.” Shur'tu didn't even stop to think that he was addressing a European. “What we lack is unity. Every groups fights in a different manner, but they are all too small to act independently as before. I am teaching them proper commands and tactics, but I fear it will take more time than we have. We will train day and night until they learn.”

“Your making them fight like Mongols?” Lochlan asked, not surprised, but just to be sure.

“Yes. It is the best way.” Shur'tu said without thought, then nodded again after he said it.

The Free Company's first officer sighed. It was inevitable I suppose, ahh well, he's a good commander of men if he can ever let himself trust them. "Alright, well, your doing what you can." Lochlan said, he raised his hand to sto Shur'tu from speaking. "And I don't like how much time we have either, but thats the way it is."

Shur'tu nodded, he knew why the were getting ready to move. "I'll get back to my men." He said, and hurried back toward where the light cavalry were encamped, he, like all the other commanders had a geat deal of work to do.

Lochlan led his horse by the reins, watching the activity of the camp. The bulk of Erik's men appeared to be drilling, though Lochlan couldn't hear Baer's roaring voice coming from any direction, which was odd. And Leclercs men were doing much the same, he could tell because their sergeants were making enough noise to be heard on the mainland.

Lochlan sighed heavily, and prepared to swing up onto his horse, when for the first time he did hear sergeat Baer.

"Lieutenant!" Baer yelled. "Lieutenant!" Lochlan turned and waved, acknowledging that he had seen the massive german.

"Yes Baer?" Lochlan asked, at the sergeants unusual look of sympathetic concern.

"I've a man in my unit who can't talk." Baer said, Lochlan motioned him to go on. "But comunication is essential for any unit of men, do you think you could teach him the scout hand signals so he could talk to us better?"

Lochlan mulled on that one for a moment. "Well, I can start him now. But you and your whole unit will have to learn, it doesn't make a difference if he's waving hs fingers around and you can't tell." Baer looked taken aback, but nodded slowly.

"Right sir. I see your point. Ill get my men together." He hurried off.

Lochlan looked around cautiously, there didn't appear to be anyone else coming in his direction. Well, I better head over there now. He decided, and led his horse in the direction of Baer's men.

 

[unmerged(14268)]

18 March 1440, Afternoon, FC Camp

"I'm Sergeant Landen."

Where have I heard that voice before, Kincaid asked himself. It's him! The first time in weeks that I get a little peace and quiet to catch up on some badly needed sleep, and his lot starts shouting and making enough noise to raise the dead, let alone their tents. Then this must also be the dolt that doesn't want to be a sergeant. And, of course, he is now my sergeant. How ironic. Maybe if I talk to him and explain the situation? After all, I'm nobility and am thus entitled to the position. He doesn't want it, I do- Kincaid, who had been ignoring what his new sergeant was saying, suddenly realized some men had their arms raised. He kept his arm down for fear of making himself conspicuous.

"How many have never touched a mount?" Two hands sheepishly went up. "Today you will learn. From now until darkness everyone will get comfortable with horses, their care, and how to handle them. The experienced will work with the inexperienced. At darkness we'll break for dinner, then work on hand signals."

Oh, is that all? Kincaid had been trained to ride as early as his eighth birthday, when he received his first horse. Since riding was necessary social skill for landed gentry, he took it as a point of duty to learn to ride and ride well. On the other hand, taking care of horses he had always left to the stable hands.

Landen moved forward and began tapping men on the shoulders. "You, you. You there. You. You also. And you." The last was William Kinkaid. "If you are in camp, you will be in your equipment. Armor is mandatory, no excuses. For the next two days you're on meal duty. At dusk and dawn you'll collect food for the remainder of the rangers." Landen didn't wait for the retorts.

Kincaid fumed. Meal duty?! This is the final insult! But the vision of Lochlan checked him. He remembered those storm cloud eyes boring holes in his head. He could hear the voice like thunder roaring at him. The wind went out of his sails. No, I suppose I'll have to bear this humiliation too.

"MOVE!"

The outburst broke into Kincaid's reverie of self-pity, and he jumped like someone had shaken him from his sleep. He ran into camp to grab his gear. In his mad dash, he almost knocked over Milo, who was carrying an armload of swords for some reason. In the moment of confusion, Kincaid forgot himself and actually uttered "Pardon me" before dashing off into the thick of the camp.

 

[Valdemar]

The Lazy Dolphin

Frederik allowed her to dismiss the thought of Osman and focus on Artur, Yes that young pup, we are sure to see more of him.

Then he allowed his mind to wander back to Osman, he may have dismissed the thought of outright murder here and now, for the sake of her future conscience, but also because it would be too obvious who the killer would be. He felt certain he could avoid the Company for long, but perhaps not Lochlan forever.

No Osman was going to die, and he would do it, for Ailena and for Romario. One for love and one for principle, he could not let the murder of Romario slip, no matter how inconsequential it might be and how little he cared. But not now, later, depending on what Captain did to the man he would either ask to be his executioner or he would come back and kill him. If Captain didn’t bring him with them, he would make sure to be left behind just long enough to finish it.

Osman would get a quick death, he deserved that much for his accomplishments, but he would have to know who killed him.

Frederik was lost in his morbid thoughts and acted per reflex, but this would be done, one way or the other.

 

[unmerged(4007)]

March 18, Training Ground

"YOU BASTARD!" The Ranger screamed, his sword descending towards Robert's head. Robert caught it, a deep "thud" sounding as the training sword caught the blow. The veteran of Constantinople launched a volley of blows that took all of Robert's skill merely to parry. But finally he began to tire, and Robert caught a blow, then deftly spun the blade out of his hands, before tapping his chest to end the duel.

"You need to stop inciting the men, Robert, or you'll have a split skull one of these days, training blades or not." Landen said.

"All I did was ask what happened at Constaninople." Robert said with bewilderment. "Why does this make everyone react with rage?"

"You ever lived through a siege. No, I imagine not. Your father would have known, I imagine. Ask Lt Lochlan, he'd know what to say to you. But I'd suggest you don't bother the ranks with this anymore, lad. I'm not going to spare the bed space for your headache because of fool questions."

"Yes sir."

 

[unmerged(14966)]

18 March 1440 - Early evening in the practice area

Landen pondered the exchange he'd observed. Lochlan had warned him he'd have some youth looking to learn. But twice since he'd arrived the older hands had gotten near the point of splitting young Robert's skull. Worse, he hadn't handled it as well as he'd liked.

He wandered up behind one of the men Lochlan had pointed out. Paul something, another Englishman. He was one of the 'reliable sorts,' which spoke volumes of his abilities as a scout. Landen watched as he worked with two other men, teaching them some of the basics of horsemanship. After a few minutes, he'd made up his mind.

"Paul, come with me please. I need a moment." The ranger looked at Landen appraisingly for a moment, then gave an instruction to the current rider and followed. Once they were out of earshot, Landen spoke again. "Look, for the next two days I want you to keep an eye on the young one. Robert." Paul's hazel eyes didn't flinch. "I know, he's a handful with his questions. Keep him busy, at least until we're aboard the ships. Then I'll let you have at him if you feel the need."

There was a long silence. Finally Paul nodded. "As you'd 'ave it sergeant. What are you planning to do then?"

"Have a talk with him. See if I can answer what he's really wondering."

The ranger looked at the sky for a moment. "He 'ont know until he's done it for himself."

"None of us do." Landen was grinning, but his eyes had turned dark. Paul looked at him as if to ask something, then pulled out his pipe.

"You owe me."

Landen motioned for him to follow. "More than the pint you'd get from Lochlan I suspect."

-----------------------------------

"Robert!" The new sergeant strode up, Paul of Sussex in tow. "Robert, for the next two days you're with Paul. Let the questions drop about Constantinople. Once we're on the ships, we'll talk. For the moment, worry about handsignals and horses."

 

[Storey]

18 March 1440 - Evening in Camp

After a full day of practice some of the Free Company were finally able to get a chance to eat. The hurried meal was broken only by the constant exchange of rumor, half-truths and down right lies. Every once in awhile a fact would slip in but was usually ignored as being too unlikely to be true. Geoffrey sat down by the fire with his plate of food and listened while he ate. Finally as Artur finished telling Dieter that they were headed back to Constantinople Geoffrey interrupted.

"No it’s not Constantinople we are headed for, its Patras "

"Where the hell is Patras?" Henri asked.

"It’s in Greece on the Peloponnese peninsular."

Dieter broke in.

"How do you know where we are going? Since when did you become an officer?"

A few chuckles tickled the air.

"Ah, I was there when the messenger reported to Captain. Ah, Captain asked me to stay but I felt it important to report to Milo and collect my gear."

Cyril scratched his head before asking.

"So what’s in Patras that’s so important?"

"I think someone called Mataxis and Demetrius are there. I may have gotten the names wrong but the Turks and Venetians have them trapped. So…"

Several in the group interrupted.

"The Venetians? What the blazes are they doing working with the Turks?"

Speaking around a mouth full of food Geoffrey retorted.

"Hey don’t shout at me. I don’t know. All I know is where we are going not why."

This instigated a spirited debate that swirled around the fire at the speed of a forest fire leaping from tree to tree on a dry summer night.

 

[Lord Durham]

March 18 - Early Evening - The Lazy Dolphin

Captain entered the tavern to find it mostly empty. Conspicuously together sat Maria and Frederik. A few others, including a rather green looking de Bloomfielde, occupied scattered chairs.

Captain nodded a short greeting. They're not too happy. He sighed, "Join me," and moved over to the officer's table near the bar. As he sat, the familiar cadence of Constance' footsteps sounded from the staircase leading to the upper rooms. A moment later she appeared with a large rolled parchment. She sat as Maria and Frederik joined them. Captain flashed his wife a smile, took the roll and spread it on the table. It was a map of Greece and the surrounding seas. He placed a goblet at each corner, glared at de Bloomfielde. "Artur, fetch me Lochlan, Jaeger, Shur'tu, Fyrsil, LeClerc and Kent. Now."

There was an audible groan. Dragging himself to wobbly feet, the footman left the tavern.

Maria snarled, "Looks good on him."

Captain chuckled. "Just like his dad." He grew serious. "Look, I know saving Osman wasn't popular with you two, but I have a reason. I have a use for him. The thing is, I can't tell you what it is, not now." He paused. The last part disturbed him, but he had to mollify the couple who sat opposite. He had to give them something for their grief. "However, when I'm finished, he's all yours."

Maria and Frederik shared a glance. Maria nodded. "Very well."

Closing the subject, Captain looked down at the map. "I've been giving this a lot of thought. What we are trying to do is perform a rescue. That means we have to slip in and slip out with a minimum of fuss." He produced a knife and pointed at Patras. "Now, according to the messenger, the enemy has about 5 Venetian galleys and maybe 10 Turkish skiffs. The balance of their fleet is supposedly operating in the Aegean."

Maria said, "I know those waters quite well. I grew up on Corfu. There's a lot of coastline to cover, and the sea can be quite treacherous. The Turkish skiffs will be hard pressed to do much of anything. I suspect they'll be clustered as close to the port as possible. The Venetian galleys will be another matter."

Captain nodded. "Could you guide us in at night?"

Maria paused, eyed the map. "Only if we have a moon. The coastline is rocky. I wouldn't want to risk having the transports flounder."

"I'm not thinking of taking transports."

Maria looked pensive, nodded. "Good idea."

Frederik spoke for the first time, "How do you intend to rescue the..."

His words were lost when de Bloomfielde stormed in with the officers following. "Found them, Captain."

Lochlan jerked a thumb. "Get lost." The ranger sat down. The officers immediately began to study the map.

Jaeger asked, "What's up?"

"Strategy session." Captain recapped the discussion. "Frederik here asked how we would secure Mataxis' men."

Lochlan eyeballed Maria. "We go in light and fast, correct?" Suddenly he spun about. De Bloomfielde was hovering near the door. He focused Artur with a withering stare. The man quickly departed. With a smug look, Lochlan continued, "Like I was saying..."

"Light and fast, correct. That means no pikes, and no horses."

"WHAT?" Shur'tu, LeClerc, Kent and Jaeger exclaimed at once.

Lochlan chuckled.

Captain said, "Swordsmen and archers only. We have, what... ten galleys?"

Maria nodded. "Mataxis has 300 men. We designate 3 galleys to pick them up. That means they'll be lightly manned. The other 7 will carry a full compliment. We have to bust through the blockade, allow the garrison to load, and then get out. I'm guessing the enemy fleet will have a standard compliment of marines, so they shouldn't pose too much of a threat."

LeClerc said, "What about the transports?"

Captain smiled. "Glad you asked. You've been awarded the task of taking the women, those mercenaries who aren't good shots or swordsmen, horses, and supplies, to Ancona. You'll wait there until we rendezvous."

LeClerc began to complain. Maria cut in. "Stick to the Italian coast, but keep an eye on Naples. Word is they're pissed at Rome."

Captain forestalled any further complaining. "Look, pike training isn't complete, so I expect you to keep the men at it when you reach Ancona." To Shur'tu and Kent. "It's hard to ride a horse on a ship, and we're not making landfall. Just supply me with your best shots and best blades. The same goes for the infantry." To Fyrsil. "I'll need all your men, of course."

Lochlan asked, "Still two days, Captain?"

"Still two days. Gentlemen, gather your volunteers. We'll need about 700 men as it is. So, some of the kids will have to come along. At least it'll give them a chance to witness combat."

Some men began to filter in for dinner. Jan was with them. He saw the officer's table and limped over. "Captain, where's Milo?"

"Why?"

"I need more brine water. I've never seen so many calluses in my life."

 

[unmerged(6528)]

March 18th, Early Evening - Trianda

"I need more brine water. I've never seen so many calluses in my life." Jan said, and the veterans all chuckles slightly.

"Get used to it Doctor." Erik muttered. Most of the other officers nodded, except Leclerc who looked slightly abstracted, and Lochlan who was staring hard at the map.

"There's two issues I see as being the biggest problem." Lochlan said, putting his index figure on the port. "Well three, but that one I know we can take care of."

The officers fell silent, and Captain nodded for Lochlan to continue. "The first is that we have to intercept all the galleys, and we have to take them down fast. We can't use fire, it'll be too noticable. That means its all blade and bow work." He gestured around the table. "And ship to ship combat is a distinctly different environment than the field, or even the wall. You have to be aware of certain dangers that don't exist on land, and be aware of just as many things that are going on."

He continued, though he could see comments forming in some of their eyes, questions in others. "The second problem is that we need to mae sure the transport galleys don't get ahead of themselves or get themselves damaged. That means we have to be occupying or have defeated all of the Ventians before we send the gelleys in to pick up the Byzantines." He met each officers eye. "I know for some of you fast and brutal won't be a problem, but if its one now, go with Leclerc, because these men are going to have to slaughtered."

He stopped. Perhaps I went a bit over the top there, still, it needed to be said. They better all realize on their own that the Ottomans can't know we did this.

"You said three things?" Captain pointed out.

"Right." Lochlan nodded. "The other is making sure the Byzantines know what the hell is going on, but thats easy enough. All we have to do is drop a few scouts off and have them tell Mataxes what were planning."

"Are you volunteering?" Captain asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really." Lochlan shrugged. "Though if you want me to I will. I doubt it will be as bad as some of the things you sent me to do." The Lieutenant said pointedly.

Captain just grunted, and shared a glance with Constance, who's eyes were tight, though she hid it well. She doesn't relish his return to battle. Lochlan knew it to be the truth. But she won't say anything, especially in front of us.

More and more men were coming in for dinner now, and Lochlan decided he at least was done talking strategy for the moment, if no one else had anything to say he had to talk to some of the men.

 

[Valdemar]

The Lazy Dolphin, evening.

I wonder if Captain can truly read my mind? Frederik leaned back as the officers started to work out the details. Osman would have to wait, he would trust Captain to keep his promise, unless the traitor miraculously cured and ran away. He looked to his love, he would make sure she stayed in line as well, this rescue mission would take her mind of the torture until hopefully it would be a pale memory.

Seven ships into Patras? Maybe the Turks and Venetians are spread thin now, all over the Aegean Sea, but they got to know where the resistance is holed up and once we are in they will come gathering like bees to flower.

“Getting out going to be lot harder than getting in.”

The assembled officer corps stopped in midsentence and looked up from the map.

“If you go in at night, sneaking and have to load up Mataxis and his men, then it will no longer be dark when you leave. More importantly, whatever forces spread out over all that water will have time to gather and concentrate on you.” He grinned humourlessly, “It’s like a good burglary, you’ll have plenty of time getting in, its getting out that’s tricky.”

Lochlan looked at him and Frederik was unable to gauge his mood, “So what do you suggest?”

“A diversion somewhere along the coast, or a way to make them believe we are not there. I assume that somebody in Greece know that Mataxis is in Patras?”

*******

Early evening, the other Tavern

Johan and Bernhard had finally gotten a few weeks pay. Not much was left of it after equipment was paid off, but enough for beer and wine. The officers still gathered at the Dolphin so the two had decided to start out at the other Tavern close by, besides Johan still had to see if he had a chance with that blond barmaid.

Bernhard looked glumly into his beer, “nobody wants to play dice?”

Johan laughed, “no wonder, try later at the Dolphin, when everybody has had their first couple of fills.”

The barmaid came by and Johan send her a bright smile and nodded his thanks as she placed the beers on the table. Bernhard looked at her and then back at his friend as the maid looked back over her shoulder at the blond German. Then he grinned and rose tossing the meagre leftovers of his pay to the surprised man,

“You are going to need these, I’ll be at the Dolphin trying to get somebody to pay for my beer.”

Johan sheepishly caught the money in the air, “would you mind going by the camp and make sure Hannibal is okay?”

Bernhard nodded and stepped out into the cool evening air.