Hardship and storm were daily companions, keeping our bodies conditioned and our minds prepared. We lived with expectation of trouble, a small world that moved under its own power, that could defend itself, and had.
On this trek we had several carts other than that carrying the drum. Some carts carried supplies; some were homes for the women while on the march. These were two-wheeled carts, and ours was driven by Khatib.
Eastward we marched with the turning leaves, the greens changing to brilliant reds and yellows. The green fields turned to brown, and the crops that covered many of them had been reaped, leaving only stubble. Here and there we stopped, holding small fairs of our own, buying or trading for additional supplies and picking up what information we could of the road ahead.
We were attacked the first time near the Meuse, and the second time on the Rhine. Both times we came off well, and the second time we pursued the attackers, overtook them, and captured their horses, stripping the men of armor and weapons but permitting the survivors to go free.
Nightly camps were each a fortress, our columns like an army on the march. We awakened to a trumpet call, marched upon a second, and all our waking days were accompanied by the rhythmic throb of the walking drum. We heard its muted thunder roll against the distant hills, through sunlight and storm. That drum was our god, our lord and master, and a warning to potential enemies.
The Hansgraf, on one of his several great horses, led off each day. He consulted often with the doyens who commanded their companies and with merchants whose judgment he respected.
Lolyngton, chief of the acrobats and performers, had become my close friend, and occasionally with him, I departed from the convoy to hunt. He was a master archer, and together we killed several boars, stags, and a number of hares to augment our food supplies.
Upon one of these forays we stumbled upon an ambush. We had seen no travelers, no sheep, nor any riders for some time when Lolyngton and I came suddenly upon a wide band of muddy tracks.
Riding away from that track, we rode cautiously up the slope of a long hill and dismounted. Creeping forward, heads low, we peered over the crest. A half mile away to the north lay the track along which our company would come, and hidden in a copse near the road were several hundred armed men, well mounted.
As many of our men were needed to drive cattle or to handle pack animals, we could muster less than half the force that lay waiting. Had such a force struck without warning, they could have done untold damage, perhaps even destroyed, us. No way of avoiding them existed, and a sharp conflict would mean casualties and death.
“If we could strike them now,” Lolyngton suggested, “surprise would be on our side.”
The fact that we would not now be surprised was an advantage, but how to make the most of it?
When we came in sight, what would they do? Lolyngton said, “Were it me, I would wait until a part of our column passed before attacking.”
This was my own conclusion, and probably theirs. Our column would be divided and in confusion, but suppose there was no confusion?
Riding swiftly back to the column, we reported to the Hansgraf. He listened attentively, first calling around him the doyens as well as Lucca and Johannes. Sarzeau, doyen of the largest company other than our own, was a good man, as was Flandrin.
My idea was explained to them. My suggestion was that, as the attack could not be avoided, the column continue along, but when the attack began, that portion which had gone ahead and those who were still behind would each swing around and take the enemy on the flanks.
Quietly, we rode along while all members were alerted. Sarzeau had several carts covered with bull’s hide, impervious to arrows. In each of these would be three archers. Forty horsemen were detached to fall back and to circle and take the enemy from the rear, using the route Lolyngton and I had found. Plans were made, and the disposition of the defenders took place while the column continued to march. Command of the forty horsemen was given to me. “You scouted the route, you know the way.” Lolyngton volunteered to come with me, our party then fell back, substituting for the rear guard.
From the crest of the hill we saw them come storming out of the woods. Our convoy broke, swinging around with military precision, and the attackers were met by a flight of arrows. Military archers were as yet few in any army, and among mercenaries turned outlaw, it was the same. Arrows took several men from the saddle, and then with a shout, we charged down the slope.
The attackers had been caught fairly between the two lines of our convoy and were meeting fierce resistance when we charged into their rear.
We struck them hard, sweeping several of their horses off their feet. A gigantic rider swung at me with a sword, but an arrow took him in the throat before he could complete the blow, and I charged by, slashing another rider across the biceps and seeing his arm fall loose, hanging by a thread.
Lolyngton, drawing off to one side, used his bow and arrows with precision and skill, wasting no time, utterly cool, yet bringing down rider after rider. A sudden blow swept me from the saddle, and I fell, foot caught in the stirrup, but Ayesha stopped abruptly. Kicking my foot loose, I came up just in time to see a lance point coming at my chest.
Deflecting the lance with my blade, I thrust deep into the attacker’s side, blood pouring down my blade and over my hand. Suddenly, the sounds of fighting ceased, and the attack was over.
Victory was ours, but at what cost! The smith, a burly man who was our best ironworker, was dead. A Lombard, one of our best archers, a man whom I had never really known, had also been killed.
Sheathing my bloody sword, I gave myself over to treating the wounded.
Johannes had a spear thrust in the side. It had missed the heart, but he was losing blood. Binding it tightly, I got him stretched out on a blanket, and while Suzanne tended him I extracted an arrow from the corner of a man’s eye. The eye itself was uninjured, and fortunately, for I knew little of eyes. The arrow had struck the bridge of the nose and the eye socket, wedging there, and the man was more shocked than hurt. A fraction of an inch and he would have lost the eye, and perhaps worse.
From one to the other I went, taking what emergency measures I knew, then back to continue the treatment. The Hansgraf watched while I worked. “There are fourteen dead, and how many wounded?”
“Thirty-seven, and some with scratches of no importance.”
It was very good, considering the numbers involved, but a long trek stretched before us, and we could not wait beyond the night. There might be further attacks.
Our attackers had lost three times our number of dead largely due to the precision of our archers. There were also some of their wounded left on the field. We collected armor, weapons, and horses from the field. The Hansgraf was worried.
Johannes, his strong right hand, always cool of head, and cautious in advice, was sorely wounded. It might be weeks before he recovered—if he did. Flandrin, one of the doyens, had been injured, and we had scarcely room to carry them in the carts. Suzanne was the first to volunteer hers.
It was a forbidding sundown with red flame in the sky and brown grass taking the color of fire. From our camp came the moans of the wounded. Then, as darkness came, from out on the hillside I heard a low cry, the desperate, wailing cry of a wounded man. Listening, I heard the cry again.
And I who was considered a physician could not ignore the sound.
37
Kiev we found a muddy, disagreeable town, but the weather was excellent. We camped in a forest not far from the Dnieper. The weeks of trekking the vast plains, rivers, and mountains had dealt harshly with us.
There had been a short, fierce engagement at the crossing of the Danube, where we lost two men, and eleven were wounded. In Buda one of our men had been killed in a brawl, others injured. By the time we arrived at Kiev we had forty-seven men who must be carried in carts.
A large part of each day was devoted to checking their wounds or prescribing for illnesses. For such a large body the number was not excessive, but as every man had a job, their work fell upon the shoulders of the others.