Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) (23 page)

Her laughter died off when she noticed Thomas
looking distractedly around the room.

“What is it, Thomas?”

He pushed up one of his shirtsleeves and then pulled
it down again. “I was wondering… if you had seen, or heard from,
Seraina, as of late.”

“Oh, Thomas.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “Not
since you asked me last. Three weeks ago she stopped by for a few
minutes to drop off some salves and ointments for the men, but I
have not seen her since.”

Thomas nodded, and studied the larder shelves.

“I am sure she will be back before you know it
though. This is not the first time Seraina has disappeared. She
just needs her time alone, on occasion.”

Thomas looked at Mera and could tell by her eyes
that she was just trying to be kind. She had no idea when, or if,
Seraina would ever be back.

Thomas left Sutter’s inn at dusk. He walked Anid
around the farmers’ fields and took the forest path that lead to
the west road. As Anid stepped out of the woods onto the wider
road, he whinnied and his ears perked up. Ten feet away, sitting on
a rotten log with his chin in his hands, was Noll. He looked up and
then slowly stood as Thomas approached. His boots and the hem of
his cloak were covered in dried mud, and his normally clean-shaven
face showed a growth of several days. There were dark circles under
his eyes, and sweat stains covered his chest.

“I just came from the inn,” Thomas said.

“I know. I saw your horse there.” Noll’s voice
rasped as he spoke. “Any word on Seraina?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Why did you not come in? Mera has been worried
about you.”

“I have news, Thomas. Bad news. And it is not
something I wish to burden Mera with.”

Thomas slid down out of the saddle. He pulled out
his water skin and tossed it to Noll.

“Drink some of that, first. I do not want you dying
halfway through.”

Noll tipped the skin to his lips with both hands.
When the water flow began to slow down, he squeezed it with one
hand, drank some more, and then sprayed his face off with the
remainder. He lowered the depleted skin and looked at Thomas.

“They are not coming,” he said.

“Which ones?”

“Zurich, Berne, Lucerne. All of them. None of them.
Zurich and Berne I can understand. Leopold has no doubt made the
guilds better offers. But Lucerne? They are right across the lake
from us. We share the same waters! Yet they believe they can
distance themselves from this? Are they mad?”

He shook his head and sat back down on the decaying
log.

“There must be someone else,” Thomas said.

Noll shook his head. “Even if there were, Leopold
has all the roads and passes blockaded. No one can get through to
us now. And it gets worse.”

“How?”

“Have you heard of the Sturmritter?”

“I have,” Thomas said.

“They just rode into Habsburg three days ago.”

Both men went silent. Thomas had been hoping for
another thousand men, for that would have nearly doubled their
forces. Noll’s news, however, did not come as a complete surprise.
Stauffacher and Furst had been in negotiations for months now with
the other cities. If they had truly intended to make a stand with
Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden, they would have sent men by now.

Thomas reached into his saddlebag and pulled out
some cheese Mera had wrapped in a piece of cloth for him. He
carried it over and sat down next to Noll.

“The Sturmritter are men, just like the rest of us,”
Thomas said, handing the cheese over to Noll.

Noll nodded a ‘thanks’. He unwrapped the cheese,
stuffed a good portion of it into his mouth, and mumbled around it.
“So where the hell is Leopold anyways? He should have been here
last month. Why does he delay?”

Thomas shrugged. “Could be waiting for the final
harvest to come in. That is what I would do.”

“Well, most of it is in. The first snows could be
here any day.”

“Then I suppose it is time we made our final
preparations,” Thomas said. He patted Noll on the shoulder and
stood back up. “See you at the wall.”

“What, no offer to give me a ride?”

Thomas shook his head. “You are on your way to
Sutter’s. You and I both know that. If Leopold attacks before you
get back, I promise to not let Matthias kill him before you show
up.”

“You are one mad ferryman, you know that?”

“I have had no ferry for a very long time, thanks in
no small part to you. So why do you insist on calling me that?”

Noll grinned. “Because it makes you angry. And the
angrier you get the better chance I think we have,” Noll said.

Leopold had to admit Bernard was skilled at much
more than just the use of a quill. Sculpting also seemed to be no
small part of his repertoire.

Leopold’s war council gathered around the wide table
built especially for the detailed clay landscape that Leopold’s
chief scribe had built. Bernard had been out of sorts ever since
the manuscript under his care had been lost when Leopold and
Gissler were ambushed by Thomas Schwyzer, so when his lord told him
he needed a very detailed map of the areas from Zug to Schwyz,
Bernard had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the project. The
result was a precise model of the two towns, complete with little
wooden houses and stables. The surrounding countryside was also
recreated from sculptor’s clay, painted in life-like colors and
complete with forests, mountains, and rivers.

It was so realistic, Leopold had trouble keeping his
captains focused on the battle plans. The Habsburg Fool delighted
in touching lakes and trees and then would hold up his finger for
the dozen or so men in the room to inspect. And beside him,
Landenberg also seemed to be infatuated with the model. He kept
trying to peer inside the small windows of the buildings of
Zug.

“Landenberg? Did you hear what I said?”

The Vogt straightened up. “Yes, of course, my lord.
We overnight in Zug and then assemble at dawn.”

Captain Roemer spoke up. “And from there we march
straight on to Schwyz?”

Leopold nodded. “Most of us. Count Henri?”

Henri of Hunenberg had been quiet all night, Leopold
thought.
Perhaps he suspected something like this was
coming.

“Yes my lord?”

“I intend to take the fight to them on two fronts.
You will take your men over this pass,” Leopold traced a line with
his stick over the landscape, “and attack this village in Obwalden.
The rest of us will take Schwyz.”

The Count’s eyes clouded over and he crossed his
arms. He kept his eyes locked on the model and said nothing.

“And remember. Ensure every one of your soldiers has
enough collars and rope to secure at least three captives. If any
man comes back with fewer than that, he will forfeit two months of
his salarium. Is that understood?”

There was some murmuring at that, as to be expected,
but Leopold did not care at this point.

"Good. Then, if there are no questions I propose we
adjou—”

The Fool’s hand shot into the air and waved back and
forth inches from Leopold’s nose. “My lord Duke! I have a
thought!”

Some of the men chuckled, a few rolled their eyes.
But Leopold was feeling especially magnanimous at the moment. This
night had been a year in the making.
Why not end the evening on
a ridiculous note for the sake of morale?

“You have something to add?”

The Fool stood upright and decided that was not
enough. He hopped up onto a chair and turned a full circle, looking
at every man in the room as he did so. There were more than a few
smiles as the men tried to guess what the jester was up to.

“You have all given wise council tonight,” the Fool
began, his voice deep and solemn. “Very wise council indeed, on how
to get into the lands of the mountain people. But my question
is…”

He paused and turned a slow circle again on his
chair, pointing at each man in turn.

“My question is… how do you intend to get out?”

The room was quiet for more than a few seconds, as
men waited expectantly for more. But when it finally became clear
that the Fool had nothing further to add, someone began laughing.
Others soon joined in, and eventually everyone had at least a smile
on his face.

Everyone except Count Henri of Hunenberg, and
ironically, the Fool himself.

Leopold dismissed the marshals and lords and they
wasted no time in retiring to their appointed rooms within Habsburg
Castle. Within minutes, only Leopold and Klaus remained in the
council room.

“You disapprove of my plan. I can see that. Admit
it. Tell me what is on your mind, Klaus.”

“You split our forces by sending Count Henri to
attack from the Brunig Pass.”

He paused, and would have been content to leave it
at that, but Leopold waved for him to continue. So Klaus grunted,
and pushed on. “He does not command many soldiers. I agree. But the
ones he has are good fighting men, and well disciplined. He has got
men that even fought against the heathen of Outremer. Next to the
Sturmritter, they are our best soldiers. I would rather it be
Henri’s men at my back than those riffraff from Kyburg and
Toggenburg.”

Why Klaus, what an impassioned speech. For you. The
last time I heard you string so many words together, I was seven,
and you had just caught me sticking a handful of crushed glass
under father’s saddle blanket.

“Good. If even you, a man who has been at my side
for my entire life, cannot see what I am up to then chances are no
one else does either,” Leopold said.

Klaus squinted and the flesh of his eyelids bunched
up, making his eyeballs all but disappear. Leopold could not help
thinking how it made him look like a newborn babe. Albeit, a large,
hairy one with very little patience for fast-talking princes.

“You are right, of course,” Leopold said. “Henri’s
men are excellent. It is Henri himself I find fault with. You see,
I simply do not trust that he will do what I tell him. He has a
perverse sense of honor and I think it could come to haunt him
someday."

“If you keep sending everyone away you do not trust,
your army is going to get very small, very fast,” Klaus said.

Leopold chuckled. “Truer words were never spoken.
Fortunately, we only need to keep this force together until the day
after tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord. And I for one will not be sad to see
it disband.”

“Oh, come now, Klaus. Enjoy it while you can. Did
you find a suitable gathering ground south of Zug?”

“Aye, my lord. A farmer’s field, about an hour south
of the town. From there we will be able to form up into ranks and
march into Schwyz.”

“Does this farmer know what we intend to use his
land for?”

“Damn rights. My lord.”

“Excellent,” Leopold said.

“And I told him to not be hiding any of his cows
either, because I counted them when I was there.”

“You need not have done that,” Leopold said.

“The men will be hungry. We may need them all,”
Klaus said.

“Yes, yes. I realize that. But what I mean is, we
will never be at that farmer’s field.”

A grin spread across Leopold’s thin lips. He waited
for Klaus to speak, but the old soldier just stood there, his
eyeballs retreating further and further into the back of his
head.

“Do you know why we are not going to use that
field?” Leopold asked.

“It was a ruse. You wanted a mouthy farmer to tell
everyone that we would be there.”

“Precisely.”

“But we will not be there,” Klaus said.

“You are much better at this than you look.”

Leopold walked back to the clay model of the lands
surrounding Schwyz. He pointed to the road running south from Zug
all the way to the village of Schwyz.

“As far as the farmer knows, and I am sure far more
people are aware of it by now, our army will spend the night in
Zug. Then, early the next morning we set out for Schwyz. We stop at
this cooperative peasant’s farm, break our fast, check equipment,
form up into ranks and then charge the Schwyzers’ little mud walls
they have erected to protect their precious lands. Correct?”

“That is… or… was the plan, my lord?” Leopold gave
Klaus a moment. It was not that he thought him to be a stupid man.
Far from it. Leopold had been witness to, and the benefactor of,
some very well thought out plans that the old veteran had concocted
entirely on his own. But he was a plodder, and like most plodders,
did not handle change well.

When Leopold saw the light flicker in Klaus’s eyes,
he continued.

“When we leave Zug, we will not go south. We will go
east until we reach the far side of Lake Aegeri. Then we turn
south, and take the paths below Morgarten.”

“Morgarten?”

Leopold nodded. “The Schwyzers have been busy little
builders, stacking up their wooden palisades and mud walls. They
have managed to create a meager line of defenses that stretches
from the Great Lake all the way to the western shore of Lake
Aegeri. But that is where it ends.”

“Bah, we would only lose a few men taking those
stick walls,” Klaus said. He had seen some of them and was not
impressed.

“But why lose any? For every Austrian knight that
falls off his horse and dies, years from now, there will be some
ragged child sitting on the mud floor of his hut, listening to his
grandfather regale him with tales of how he killed an honest to god
nobleman.”

Klaus shrugged. He saw the sense in Leopold’s plan,
but clearly did not care what tales might be told after he was
gone.

“But no one is to know any part of this plan until
we are on the road and headed east out of Zug. Is that
understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

It was simplicity in action, really. A scheme as old
as violence itself. Make your opponent look somewhere and then run
around behind him and slit his throat.