In which we learn of advantages of a duel for both parties involved and then lances are shattered, among other things.
“Let the lord of Mournful Guard come forth, so justice be served upon him!” shouted the squire acting as herald ”Righteous vengeance for the blood of goblin and men alike, for the tears of wives and mothers, for infamy and terror upon upper Boym, Damp Pass, Glass Clearing, Bogpines Perch, and other lands!”
“Lord Archibald of Swanlake challenges him for a duel, whether on foot or mounted, by lance or by sword. Should he not stand to the duel…”
“Yeah! Yeah! Stop yelling!” A middle-aged goblin guard, with a terribly crooked nose, yelled back at the herald leaning from the gate tower window, to take a better look at the new arrivals. His expression disclosed a mighty hangover. “Lord Gilehaut is coming… He does not reside in the gate tower, to squabble with every travelling vagabond, you know?”
Indeed, a movement on the battlements suggested a group of men coming to the gate. A scarlet cloak flashing through the crenels, indicated a rich figure approaching. Soon lord of the Mournful Guard appeared on the gate hoarding by the gate guard surrounded by several thugs curiously peeking at the white knight and his men.
“What is this circus at my doorstep?” asked the goblin lord, almost half a head higher than his retinue. His face was fat, his beard stiff like a bristle, gave him appearance of a wild hog. The guard shrugged, pointing at the knight and his retinue.
“What is so urgent Sir Knight, that you interrupt my supper?” asked the fat goblin in a mocking tone. Archibald stood silent, watchful for any sign of treachery, ready to signal his men to loose bolts if any was attempted. His squire replied for him.
“Sir Archibald of Swanlake, knight on quest errant, challenges You my lord for a mortal combat, to exact justice, for robbery on the tracts, for racketing, for burning of Glass Clearing judiciary chamber…”
“Yes, yes, for plucking the burghers, form slaying that prick Istvan voight of Ashwood oh and that stupid sheriff from Spindlemill, … what was his name? Wathever… and for Norman of Habdank, and for unpaid taxes and church tithes… bla bla bla… I know my record…”
“…and for raptus puellae…” continued the squire “and holding her against her will!”
“Oh, so this is what it is all about?” laughed goblin “You all pose to be so virtuous, but a restless prick is what drives you all, your errant bunch? How righteous of you!” His men, chuckled with him, sounding like a choir of crows.
“Listen closely Sir Knight, for I’m in a good mood and will reply you kindly. Forget the maiden, for she was promised to be my bride by right, her bride price was paid handsomely, by gold and favours, and it has nothing to you. In three weeks, I shall marry her, and then You’ll be welcome, should you bear gifts. As for your insolent demand, I spit on your challenge and your duel. Shove it deep up your horse backside and run off with your men quickly, before I lose my temper, and unleash my dogs upon you. I want you gone by nightfall, and then I will forget this trespassing, and let you leave wherever you like.”
“Will the lady testify she is not held against her will?” Asked the squire, to great amusement of the thugs in the tower, and to visible anger of the goblin lord. “She will not” thought Archibald, and that thought comforted him. First there was indeed a lady. That she was betrothed against her will, worked in his favour – most likely the rascal needed her to secure fealty of her family, that meant she would rather not be used as hostage against him, which was always a risk, or that she would be eaten, which was maybe unlikely, but still…
“Begone I say!” The goblin lord started losing his temper ”For should you not vanish with sunlight I will strike at you with all my men, throw you into the dungeon, pluck your yes and tongue and feed you piece by piece to the trouts in the lake. As for your men, those armed I will hang on the trees and those other cretins that accompany you…” here he pointed at the follower’s camp in the distance “…I will strip to bare knickers and lash them whole way to Glass Clearing.“
Archibald smiled in his helmet. He issued the challenge more to test the situation, and fulfill the errant custom rather than indeed hoping for the baron to accept a duel. Threats against him were a predictable move. But that the goblin tried to intimidate him with prospect of cruelty upon innocent commoners beyond his actual grasp, proved the Lord of Mourning Guard hadn’t had many cards up his sleeve.
“Your empty threats, will not scare me! Lord of the Mournful Guard” Archibald replied . His voice, distorted by helmet, ringed eerie in the evening air. “Many tried to postpone judgement by my hand, but none succeeded. Should you not duel me, we will wait ready at our doorstep, and any that would try to leave will face our wrath.”
“Pfft.” snorted the goblin in turn. The pompous rhetoric of Aurelian knight played on his nerves “You want to besiege me? Here? With about two dozen men? Or is this rabble behind, that is your army?
In this fortress I have fifty tough boys, stocked for months. You will not surround me by lake, and I have boats. Should I send message to the land easily twice that men will gather.”
“Sit in your walls then and send your messengers if you can. Should your crows start to gather, and see you here cowering in your den, I wonder how many of them would prefer to feast on your own corpse, rather than risk their feathers for you? How many serve you out of fear, or greed? How many will come to your aid having nothing to gain if you win but everything should you lose?”
The big goblin ground his teeth. The knight had a point, a tested point that served Archibald well on several similar occasions before. Indeed arriving here he did little to hide that he is coming for the Lord of the Mournful Guard in an attempt to lure him into the open, playing on bandits vanity. That baron was apparently not warned by any of his lackeys spoke volumes of their loyalty. The downside was that with prolonged siege, and barons desperation, the fate of the damsel was becoming more unpredictable. Archibald had to find a way to break into the fortress.
“Pardon my boldness noble lords…” a new voice broke between the Baron and the Knight. The scholar following Archibald’s retinue came forth half bowed.
“But why risk a siege, and death by a stray arrow when duel is a solution for all parties most beneficial?”
“Beneficial how?” Barked the baron “And who to hell are you?”
“Answering right away, although in reverse order.” the scholar bowed deeply “Clawbag of Mudwater, bachelor legalist and magister trivium, at your both service my lords. For the benefits of duel as resolution I haste to answer.
“For dear lord Archibald, knight errant here present, the advantage is known and obvious. His quest faster completed, his men not at risk, his vows fulfilled. Or in case of his demise, a glorious death by the hand of terrifying lord of Mournful Guard, worth a song to be sung for ages to come.”
Archibald frowned upon the mention of glorious death. Not exactly would he call it an advantage of a duel. Still, he remained silent… and curious.
It would seem to the folk uncultured and simple, that dear Baron here, little has to gain by obliging to this challenge. Yet I’m sure, your lordship already calculates in his mind, the benefits of a trial by combat.
“Go on.” murmured goblin lord also curious,
“According to code of king Venzel, a challenge by knight errant is to be treated as divine trial by combat, and its outcome is to be observed by all, upon presenting a written testimony signed by both parties sealed with errant seal. This would mean, should dear Baron prevail in a duel, all accusations, and sentences placed upon him, and by extension upon his men, would be proved null and void. Nobody would dare to oppose one with the Creator’s favour against an errant knight.
This would not only, assert your lordship over Damp Causeway, and all subject lands or those of your betrothed. But also allow dear Baron and his men to travel all lands freely, legally unopposed, lifting ban upon entering major cities, or using services of reputable guilds. I’m sure after many years of hard labour on the Damp Pass, both you and your men would appreciate the service of esteemed armourers or swordsmiths, such as those in Highsteps; careful attendance of bath maids in Mudwater or magnificent beer in Dogwood. I have no doubt such respite would greatly improve morale and loyalty of your men. Your fortress could also benefit from some restoration by masons from Highsteps or Mudwater, to better reflect your majesty”.
Gilehaut cared little for swordsmiths or masons but being able to play on the nose of all those upstart sheriffs, priests and voights sparked his imagination. And judging by quiet whispers behind his back, a mention of beer and bath maids sparked imagination of his men. Was it worth it to consider the risk?
“And You can prepare such a testimony, I presume?” asked the baron, intrigued.
“I wouldn’t dare to propose this otherwise! Whenever conditions are agreed upon between the parties, I will prepare relevant documents only for your lordships to sign.”
“And what do you want for your service? I will not pay you a broken penny!” remarked the baron, wary of his experience with lawyers.
“A safe passage for the whole caravan to Greatfield regardless of the outcome,” answered the clerk.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” snapped the baron in mocking laughter.
“This we can negotiate…” Archibald broke their dispute, bellowing from inside his helmet. “If the lord of the Mournful Guard is willing,” he added, saluting with his lance. Perhaps they will resolve this one-on-one after all.
***
For nearly an hour Baron and the Knight mocked, shouted, threatened, and taunted each other, negotiating terms of the trial, frequently interrupted by one or another bystander wanting to add their own two cents to the final conditions of combat. In the end, it was agreed that should Sir Archibald prevail, the castle with all wealth inside, damsel included, will befall to him, of which half is to be shared among his men. Except the damsel, although Baron curiously had not insisted on it. Magister Clawbag will be compensated with coin and will be welcome in the castle should he travel this way again. For their service with the knight, all craftsmen of the caravan would be welcome in the castle or will be compensated with coin from the keep’s vault. Of Baron’s men, those without blood on their hands would be pardoned and could join Archibald’s service or go their own way, while others will be sent to Dogwood for trial or hanged on the castle gate at their own discretion. In case they would not comply, the drawbridge and gate were to be blocked open until the duel is concluded, so Archibald could storm the keep and deliver justice to malcontents himself.
In case Baron should come victorious, all his crimes and those of his men, from manslaying, through arson and armed robbery, to the theft of leather hoses belonging to certain Valpurgia Pimple, will be passed with impunity, and all legal verdicts and interdicts proven null and void. Archibald’s men will have one day to leave wherever they want, with arms but without mounts, unless they were willing to join barons’ men.
As for the third parties the agreement stated that should baron win, Magister Clawbag for his service will be granted this one-time safe passage, and may be joined by Goblin twin-girls, the two monks and the shepherd. All others are to pay half silver grosch if they want to pass or a quarter for safe return back to Boym should they manage to leave Damp Pass within a day, otherwise Baron is free to extract toll as he sees fit. The armourer and the butcher can either join the castle service for at least three months or pay for passage as others, and the minstrels will go in pants only should they speak a word in barons’ presence. Finally, the annoying preacher was to receive a good kick in the butt, back to Boym, from however was left standing and was to be whipped for haste should he delay with his departure.
Having agreed upon the terms and pushing aside all who protested, the knight signed and sealed the treaty prepared hastily by the legalist, and then backed somewhat to the landbridge giving space for the baron to enter the field. The drawbridge was lowered, and the clerk entered the gate tower through the wicket in the gate to collect baron’s signature. It took some time for the baron to don his battle harness, or perhaps he wanted Archibald to grow weary and annoyed with waiting, but in the end the gate opened, and the rouge lord emerged to a laud and uneasy sigh from the spectators gathered, for the sight was indeed threatening.
On a stocky wolfmare, rode an even bigger fat goblin knight, covered from foot to toe in blackened armour. Baron regarded his adversary with a wicked gaze before closing his helmet visor, stylized in the shape of a tusked boar’s snout. This act changed surprisingly little in his general appearance.
The wolfmare approached with a slow, steady pace, growling quietly, without any unnecessary motions, demonstrating the expertise of both the beast and the rider. With a wicked hammerspear in his hand, Gilehaut of the Mournful Guard met his opponent’s watchful glare. Archibald stood against him, dressed in white, his lance gleamed gold in the early evening light, his horse restless for the fight.
The scholar followed baron hastily, stopping only to ensure the bolts are removed from the drawbridge chains and the gate is strongly wedged open. Finding the wedges loose, he urged baron’s men to give them a few more hammer blows, and after checking again with a kick he went forth to announce the ordeal.
Rogues gathered on the ramparts and the knight’s followers on the causeway, curious of events about to happen, cheering their respective champions, with exception of the dwarves who cheered both fighters just in case, the shepherd who just smiled, and the preacher cheering no one but cursing to the sky on the decline of morals.
Climbing atop of a nearby headstone for a more dramatic effect, the scholar cleared his throat and raised hand to the squires, requesting a fanfare with a gesture of an orchestral conductor.
“Behold all ye gathered here!” he started loudly, and clearly, shouting both to the ramparts and to the camp “For I Clawbag of Mudwater master scribe, legalist and Magister Trivium implore you all to bear witness, that on 6th of May Imperial Year 1386 Sir Archibald of Swanlake knight errant challenged Baron Gilehaut lord of the Mournful Guard and the Damp Causeway to a trial by combat, of which trial terms were agreed, written by my hand and sealed by both belligerents!” his pitch and volume raised with every word “Let the Lord creator of the World decide the righteous and the wicked! In his name my lords… begin!”
Neither Baron nor the knight waited for him to finish. With bestial growl and thunder of hooves they charged forward lance and hammerspear down. Fierce clash after clash they charged and parted, hooves kicking and claws slashing.
The lance skillfully parried int the ground by the barons spearhead, splintered upon impact. The squire rushed with a spare one just in time so the knight would intercept incoming foe. In the last moment Archibald dropped his lance point, confusing baron and piercing his wolfmares flank.
The beast growled, clawed, scowled and died, breaking Archibald’s second lance with its weight. Baron jumped off to the ground, with agility that surprised even him, took his hammerspear in both hands bracing to receive another charge.
Archibald did not charged. Weighing his opponents skill with his polearm, he decided to change his tactic. Dismounting he reached for chained flail, and approached slowly circling his enemy and swinging the heavy spiked ball. Baron spared no moment and attacked with sweeping blows and wild thrusts overwhelming the knight and forcing him back, until finally Archibald managed to entangle hammer head in the chain and broke the shaft with mighty blow of the shields edge. Another mighty shield bash torn the visor off barons helmet and sent him back reeling. Barons face was at the same time green as a goblin, red with hate, blue with confusion and uncertainity. In the last moment the flail strike was blocked with hastefully unsheathed falchion, but the knight would not allow rouge lord to regain composure. Strike after strike he pressed, while baron backed towards the gate. Finally, a sloppily parried blow sent the goblin to the ground.
And that was about it for a honourable duel.
“Now fools! Now!” Cried baron for lord of the Mournful Guard wouldn’t be worth his name if he wasn’t prepared for such turn of events. He ordered his men on the ramparts to arm themselves with bows and crossbows , and others to bar the gate with a wagon of timber, prepared in the meantime on the courtyard, in case anything went awry. “Shoot him!”
The bowstrings sung… but screams and curses filled the ramparts rather than the field below, for the White Knight of Swanlake wouldn’t be worth his name if he wasn’t prepared for such turn of events. His men watched closely the battlements with crossbows hidden but at the ready, all of them trained marksmen wasted no bolt. His squires, in full armour, passed him galloping across the drawbridge, cutting down barons men by the timber wagon. Mounted men at arms soon followed wreaking havoc on the courtyard.
The baron turned white as chalk, showing almost chameleon like capabilities to change colour. He crawled back, getting on his feet and reaching for a dagger, not to sell his hide cheaply. Archibald was almost glad of this treachery, the duel was over, now it was just a battle. A battle with simple rules. He kicked dagger out of baron’s hand and showered him with a flurry of iron. Another bash of a shield and a swing of the flail. With a loud clash and crack of bone Baron fell on his back, legs in the air, head tilted at unnatural angle. His helmet turned half on his face covering expression part scared part surprized. His legs fell to the ground with a loud thud and with this thud his reign over the Damp Pass has ended.
to be continued…
Chronica Goblinorum - or tales from the chronicle of the Goblins. 