The Robber Knight's Secret

11. A Rat's Main Course

"Rise, Sir Hartung."

Cautiously, Hartung came to his feet. He didn't quite have the courage to look at the man in the chair, though. Not yet. Not before he knew what fate awaited him for his failure.

"Report."

"The archer's attacks have ceased, Milord."

"Did you catch the person responsible?"

"No, Milord. The archer was merely a ploy, Milord."

The figure in the shadows was silent for a moment. Then a low sigh emanated from the gloom.

"They wanted to get the commanders away from the vanguard."

"Yes, Milord."

"They ambushed you."

"Indeed, Milord."

"Why did you lose the battle?"

Hartung blanched. "Milord, h-how did you know that we...?"

"You are here alone, without a single captured enemy officer. The men outside have not uttered a single cheer at your return. It is not difficult to deduce what happened." Slowly, the Margrave rose and stepped forward, out of the shadows. "Now tell me: why did you lose?"

At the demanding question, Sir Hartung instinctively raised his head to look his overlord in the eye, and immediately regretted it. The Margrave was a tall, quite handsome man with a neatly trimmed black beard, going grey at the edges. At first sight you would call him slim. Only a second glance would you perhaps notice the hard muscles under the loosely fitted black surcoat. His features would have been very smooth and elegant, were it not for his broken, slanted nose, the result of a lost joust in his early years. This broken nose gave his whole face a slightly lopsided appearance, making it look as if he were permanently raising one eyebrow in derision.

Hartung could never stand that look for long. The Margrave looked at you with those steady blue-grey eyes of his, seeming to always ask a question, and you desperately wanted to be able to give him the answer. If you don't tell me everything, his face seemed to say, if you dare to resist...

Why did he lose? Hartung had asked himself that very question many times on the way back, and had come up with only one answer: because of that man.

He cleared his throat. "There was a man..." he began. "He... well, I assume it was he who was behind this. As I said, we were ambushed in the forest. Or to be more precise, Gregor and Blasius were. I was with several lances of soldiers further back up the path."

"The enemy waited to untack until you were gone?"

"Yes, Milord."

"I see. Continue."

"As I say, they attacked, but soon turned tail, and Sir Gregor and Sir Blasius gave chase. They pursued the enemy over the bridge at the river to the west. But... the bridge gave way beneath them."

That perpetually raised eyebrow moved, almost imperceptively. "How inconvenient."

"It was more than inconvenient, Milord. The supports of the bridge had been tampered with. The bridge was destroyed just as half the men were across the bridge, and most of the rest were still on top of it. Dozens of soldiers were smashed or drowned, our vanguard cut in half."

"Gregor and Blasius?"

Hartung hesitated. Then he shook his head. "I don't know what happened to them, Milord. Those bastards drove us away with bow and arrow. I couldn't stay to check if there were any survivors. The two of them may very well be dead."