Chapter 10
The Costs of War
'Rudolfsberg', Near the Lothria-Bergeny Border
The people of the conquered kingdoms could be divided into three groups: those who fled, those who were dead, and those who were left behind. For those who fled, they were pushed further and further west as the Witch Queen's armies advanced. The highborn could find welcome in the houses of their fellow nobles, kin and allies, but the lowborn could not expect a warm hearth to be waiting for them. Some would be absorbed into the domains of their refuge, especially if the lord they were bound to had been taken into the household of the lord of the domain. For those who were less fortunate, they were gathered into large camps in the borderlands. They had neither fields nor herds to tend and survived on what charity the lords and the Church could spare. No matter how liberal these benefactors might be, it was never enough.
The more the Witch Queen's armies advanced, the greater the pressure upon the ever-shrinking free lands and their people. Desperation and resentment grew and with it, all manner of lawlessness. The lot of those charged with maintaining law and order in the camps was not to be envied, but how much more pitiable was the lot of those forced to eke out some manner of living there?
"Spare a penny, sir?" one ragged beggar asked as he approached Prince Wilfried. "Or two?"
One of the men-at-arms guarding the Prince put himself between the Prince and the beggar, growling, "Off wi' ye, ye flea-bitten—"
The Prince put his hand on the man-at-arm's shoulder, saying, "It's alright, Meinfried. Do not trouble this poor man any more than life has already troubled him." Then to the beggar, he said, "Tell me, man, are you a Bergenian?"
The beggar shook his head.
"No, sir," he said. "I be a Wealishman. Me lord was slain afore the Witch Queen even come. Some say by the 'and o' 'is own son, not trueborn but seed o' the Devil 'imself."
That sounded rather fanciful, but all manner of strange tales had a way of spreading among those who did not know any better. How much more so in a war like this one.
The beggar continued, "Wealand fell an' I run to Gotland. Gotland fell an' I run to Bergeny. Bergeny fell an' I run 'ere. Each time I lose more an' more o' what lil' I 'ad till now I've got naught but these rags on me back. I' this land were to fall, where do I run next?"
"Pray this land doesn't fall," the Prince said, reaching into his purse and pulling out a couple pence. He placed the coins in the beggar's waiting hands and told him, "In the meantime, use this to keep yourself fed for the next day or two."
"Bless ye, good sir," the beggar said, clasping his hands over the coins as if they were a priceless treasure. "Bless ye, bless ye."
"No squandrin' His Lordship's charity on beer now," Meinfried chided the beggar.
The beggar gave him a crooked smile, baring a mouth with at least half the teeth missing, and sang a verse, "Beer fills the belly, same as bread; Makes the 'eart merry an' ligh'ens the 'ead. Ha ha ha!"
Meinfried scowled and said, "A waste o' alms on such rats in human hides. Soon they'll be swarmin' from ever' nook an' cranny."
"Hold your peace," the Prince said. "What good can come of despising the poor for being poor?"
"Beggin' your pardon, Your High—er, Your Lordship, but poor in thin's an' poor in soul don't be the same."
"'Beati pauperes spiritu,'" Gudrun said as she drew near. "Is that not what the priests preach?"
"I'm no man o' learnin', milady," Meinfried replied. "I don't know nothin' about no Romish words nor priest's preachin'."
"His Grace the Bishop might see meet to correct that if he were to hear of it," Prince Wilfried said.
"God spare me..."
Coincidentally, Bishop Friedman himself was returning just as they were talking. For Meinfried's sake, Prince Wilfried hoped the Bishop had not heard any of their exchange. Gentle correction was not something he was known for, after all.
As they were concealing Prince Wilfried's identity, the Bishop dispensed with any of the usual forms as he spoke.
"To answer your curiosity, the brethren ministering to these people have neither seen nor heard anything of that girl passing through here."
Prince Wilfried looked northward and said, "It could be that she went through Masberg. If it is true that Sir Burkhardt is with her, I could see him wishing to stop somewhere more... established."
"Established with taverns and alehouses," Kolman grumbled. "If she somehow bewitched that drunkard into joining her on her fool's errand, he will be a snare to her feet. All the better for us, I suppose."
"Just because a man has fallen does not mean he cannot pick himself up again," Gudrun said.
"With his paunch, it would take two or three others to pick him up again."
Prince Wilfried glanced at Sir Eckhardt, who merely furrowed his brow in silence as Kolman heaped insults on his brother.
"Enough, Master Kolman," the Prince said. "Sir Burkhardt is still Knight Champion of Gotland. If he were here, he might make you answer for his honor's sake."
"He'd trade his honor for a tuppence to keep drinking till dawn," the sorcerer sneered, "but at least I can credit him for having sense enough to favor civilization over... this. Why are we even here?"
"Unlike Lys, we have greater need for secrecy in our mission," Prince Wilfried replied. "Also, I wanted to see it for myself... the cost of this war, what we are fighting for. It is not our lands alone, not cities and castles, but our people. People like these."
Kolman looked around and did not seem to find as much inspiration from what he saw.
"One thing I can say is that at least you would fight for the living. Unlike someone who fights for the dead... and those who should be dead."
The contempt in Kolman's voice made the Prince happy that their path did not cross with Lys. Kolman was angry before, but now it seemed that all the hatred he had for the traitor Maus now extended to his former pupil and possibly even to her father whose will she was dedicated to fulfilling. The Prince thought Lys was misguided, but he did not hate her for it. The best he could do was deflect Kolman's anger and hatred.
"Let us do what we have set out to do," the Prince said. "That is the best way to serve the living and honor the dead."
Kolman bowed his head obligingly, but it was clear that he still kept his bitterness close to his heart. Prince Wilfried feared that even fulfilling their purpose would not release him from these feelings and surely he was not the only one. Even if they achieved victory, the road ahead remained a long one.