FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD SCHWARTZ
The big day had arrived. The first class of the Warrior's school was about to graduate. The three-dozen men would be the training instructors who would forge the army that would beat the Mongol horde, God willing.
Eleven months ago, there had been twelve dozen of them. Since that time, I had put them through the roughest program of basic training that I could imagine. Now two dozen of that original number were dead, killed on the training ground and on the obstacle course. Others were crippled for life and at least six men had been driven insane. But the core of the army was ready!
I'd invited a few dignitaries to observe the last day of training and the graduation ceremonies. Count Lambert, my liege lord, was there. His liege, Duke Henryk the Bearded, could not make it, but he had sent his son, Prince Henryk the Pious, to observe for him. Abbot Ignacy of the Franciscan monastery in Cracow had come at my invitation, as had some of his monks, including Friar Roman. Sir Miesko and Lady Richeza were of course in attendance, as were a few dozen of Count Lambert's other knights, mostly members of the more progressive faction.
There were a thousand others besides, because for this day only, the school was thrown open to the public. Many were there from Three Walls because word was out that all the men working for me would be going through the school, and they wanted to see what was in store for them.
And about four dozen young ladies from Count Lambert's cloth factory came, having heard that there would soon be three dozen new knights and most of them bachelors. It seemed that everyone but the men themselves knew that they would be knighted, but that's the way things usually go. I wanted to keep it from them so that they would get a greater emotional impact from the graduation ceremonies.
At dawn, a bugle sounded reveille and in a few minutes the men fell in on the concrete parade ground. A priest said a very short mass, without a sermon, and the band played Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man." Then the thirty-six men, the four knights that had trained them and I recited the Warrior's Oath and the Warrior's Code before the assembled guests.
I announced the orders of the day myself.
"Gentlemen," I said, and got some smiles. Usually I was much less polite. "This will be your last day of training. You notice that we have visitors today. They are here to observe our training methods. Please go about the routines in the normal manner and as though no one was watching you, since I'd hate to have to wash you out at this point in the game. We'll make the morning run in full armor. After breakfast, we'll have an hour of pike-training and an hour of swords. After dinner there will be an hour of wagon-and-gunnery practice."
"You will then have the rest of the afternoon off, but be sure to go to Confession. You'll have to be in a state of grace to make it through this evening's ceremony. You see, gentlemen, tonight you are going to walk on fire. After that we will be up all night long, performing a vigil, so get some rest this afternoon. Be back here in a quarter hour in full armor. Fall out!"
That was more time than they usually got, our "hour" being twice as long as the modem one, but I wanted our visitors to have time to string themselves out along the obstacle course.
Count Lambert came up and said, "It's hard to believe that those men are the same ruffians I sent you a year ago."
"Yes, my lord, but it's true."
"That oath was touching," Prince Henryk said, "but what does this standing in neat lines have to do with defeating the Mongols."
"That's difficult to explain, my lord. It's all part of a program that makes these men the finest foot soldiers in the world. I've invited you here today to show you what these men can do. For now, let's mount up and find a good spot on the obstacle course."
I'd arranged for a dozen guides to take the bulk of the visitors around, but I wanted to escort the VIPs myself. It was not only necessary to build the finest army in the world, it was also necessary for the powers that be to know that it was as good as I said it was.
We stopped at the first major obstacle, a huge log suspended fifteen stories up between two big denuded pine trees. Four ropes went from the ground, up and over the log and then back down to the ground.
"They're not going to climb that thing, are they?" Count Lambert asked, proudly wearing his new gold armor.
"They'll climb it in full armor using their arms only, my lord. They'll go over the top and then back down the other side," I said.
"Have you done this yourself?" Prince Henryk asked.
"Of course, my lord. I've often led them through the course."
"I wonder if I could do that," Count Lambert said.
"I'm sure you could, my lord, if you had taken this training. But for today, I must ask you to observe only, and not participate."
"That verges on impertinence!" Count Lambert said.
"Perhaps, my lord, but we all know your abilities. This demonstration is to show you what the men can do."
Count Lambert started to make further objection, but Prince Henryk put his hand on the count's armored forearm.
"It shall be as you say, Baron Conrad," the prince said, and that ended the matter.
The troops came running in step up the trail, their armor clanging loudly. They were four files wide and ten ranks long, and singing the army song.
"That song sounds familiar," Prince Henryk said.
"The tune is an old Russian folk song called 'Meadowlands,' my lord. The words are by an English poet named Rudyard Kipling. I translated them and fit the two together."
The first rank went immediately to the four front ropes and went quickly up, their arms moving in unison and their legs hanging stiff below them. The troops behind did jumping jacks until the first four were halfway up, at which time the next four men started up as the others continued exercising.
"One of the rules of the course is that the men never stop moving. When they are waiting their turn, or waiting for the others to finish, they exercise in place," I said.
Abbot Ignacy made the sign of the cross as they scaled the dizzying height.
"That man on the left, near the top," Prince Henryk said. "That's Sir Vladimir, isn't it?"
"Yes, my lord. He and the three Banki brothers beside him have been largely responsible for the training."
"And that little one at the end who's jumping up and down, is that your accountant, Piotr Kulczynski?"
"Yes, my lord, only he isn't my accountant any longer. Once his training is over, I have another job for him."
"And what might that be?"
"I'm setting up a section of mapmakers, my lord, and Piotr will head it. By the time the Mongols invade, we'll have accurate maps of all of southern Poland."
"That will be of great use to my pilots!" Count Lambert said. "If I can ever get you to get to work on that engine you promised."
"I promised to work on an aircraft engine once your people built a two-man glider that could stay up for hours, my lord."
"Then you'd best be thinking about it, because we're close, Baron Conrad, damn close!"
"Very good, my lord. For now, we'd best go to the next obstacle." I'd gone along with helping out with Eagle Nest, Count Lambert's flying school, because it looked to be a good way to set up an engineering institute at Count Lambert's expense. I never for a minute believed that those kids could build functioning aircraft in under twenty years. They were starting to build some decent gliders, though.
We got to an almost vertical cliff face fully thirty stories high only slightly ahead of the troops, who came clanking up behind us, still running in step. The first four started climbing immediately while the others did pushups.
"They move up like ants after ajar of honey!" Count Lambert said.
"Very deadly ants, my lord."
"But how is such a thing possible?" Abbot Ignacy asked.
"Training, Father, plus the fact that they have climbed this particular cliff so often that they know where most of the handholds are."
Soon, all of the men were on the cliff face and the front rank was nearing the top. Off to the right, a long slack rope went from a pole on the top of the cliff to another four hundred yards away on the ground. The arrangement was such that it was necessary to jump from the cliff in order to catch the rope. The first man up, Sir Vladimir, I was pleased to note, ran immediately toward the rope and flung himself off the edge as the crowd gasped in horror. But he caught the rope and slid down to the ground to be followed by the others.
"Doesn't that bum their hands?" Prince Henryk asked.
"No, my lord. If you'll notice, they're not holding it with their hands, but have caught the rope with the cuffs of their gauntlets. The rope is waxed and things don't get too warm."
"But what if they should slip and fall?"
"They generally die, my lord."
And so it went, as the men swung on ropes, ran across long bridges that were as narrow as your arm, climbed log piles, walked tightropes and everything else nasty that I could think up.
"When they're in full armor, we usually bypass the swimming events, since it takes a few days to dry out their gambezons," I said. "But rest assured that each of these men can swim a half mile in full armor-and six miles naked."
Despite the fact that we were on horseback, the men beat us back to the mess hall. The VIPs were invited inside and the rest of the crowd was fed outside.
Each of the men was doing in a breakfast that started with six eggs, a loaf of bread, and a slab of ham as thick as your finger, and went on from there. My own meal was almost as big.
"You certainly feed them well," Abbot Ignacy said.
"True, Father, but we bum it off them quickly enough. You won't find much fat on any of these men."
Pike practice came next, and the VIPs were treated to being charged by forty pikemen. At the last possible instant, Sir Vladimir shouted "Halt!" and they stopped with the sharp points a finger's breadth from our chests. Seeing that I didn't move, neither Count Lambert nor Prince Henryk flinched, but most of the others had moved back quickly.
"My lords, I'm sure that you felt the emotional impact of that charge. I ask you to imagine what it would be like if six thousand men charged you in that manner."
"Emotional impact? I was more worried about the physical one!" Count Lambert said.
"And 1, too," Prince Henryk said. "But I see your point. That an enemy can be defeated without even touching him."
"That would be ideal, my lord. Once the enemy has broken, you usually lose very few men in the mop-up."
"The mop-up! You have a good turn for words, Baron Conrad," Count Lambert said.
Then the men were put to work on the dummies. These were full-weight straw figures of men on horseback, with a real lance held in place. They rolled down a long ramp and once they got to the level section they were going as fast as a horse can charge. In single practice, the object was to skewer the horse with a grounded pike without being run over or hit by the lance. When a single dummy was attacking a group of men, only the men in the center went for the horse. The others went after the rider.
"That's dastardly!" Prince Henryk said.
"What is, my lord?"
"They're deliberately trying to kill the horse!"
"Yes, my lord."
"That's unfair!"
"True, my lord. But was a horseman ever known to be fair with a footman?"
"Fair to a footman? I doubt if it ever crossed anyone's mind."
"Then why should a footman fight 'fair' with a horseman? If the horseman wanted to fight fair, he would get off his horse, at which time there would be no point in harming the animal. These men are not trained to fight fair, my lord, they're trained to win!"
"Well, I don't like it," Prince Henryk said.
"Will you like it when the Mongols start butchering your women and children, my lord?"
"Be damned, Baron Conrad."
"I think I will be, my lord."
Abbot Ignacy made the sign of the cross.
Count Lambert was worried about this altercation between his greatest vassal and his future liege lord, and tried to change the subject.
"Baron Conrad, this is all fine and well when practicing on dummies, but what of the real thing?"
"We've done it, my lord, at least to the extent of using live horses. We've never tried going for the rider of such a horse, for lack of a volunteer, but I myself have ridden an old horse into a mass of pikers."
"What happened?"
"I came down hard, my lord."
"And your horse?" Prince Henryk said.
"Dead, of course."
"You killed a dumb animal?" Prince Henryk asked.
"My lord, we eat dumb animals. I have lost two dozen men in the course of this training. What difference does a few animals make? This afternoon we'll be shooting four pigs to show you what our guns can do."
"At least you'll eat the pigs."
"My lord, we ate the dead horse, too."
The rest of the day went like that, half awestruck praise and half condemnation because I had no intention of losing men in order to conform with their ideas of a fair fight. Dammit, there is no such thing as a fair fight! You are either out there to kill the bastard or you shouldn't be fighting at all!
On the other hand, the reaction of the commoners was uniformly positive. They liked the idea of their enemies being dead and their own families being alive. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't going to get much help from the conventional knights. We were going to have to beat the Mongols on our own.
After the abbreviated day of training, the troops went back to the barracks to rest and we threw an afternoon party for our guests, with music and plenty of food, beer and mead. The commoners were all buzzing about what they'd seen, and the girls from the cloth factory were literally jumping up and down, some of them, but the nobility was considerably more subdued.
Those knights who had come were mostly of the more progressive faction of Count Lambert's knights, and if they had reservations about what I was doing, I hated to think about the more reactionary knights. I suppose that I should have expected their reaction, but I really hadn't.
Most of them were eager to plant the new seeds and buy or make the new farm machinery. Quite a few had installed indoor plumbing in their manors, and many were setting up light industrial plants, with our help, to keep their peasants busy during the off-seasons. But they seemed to look on the army as a threat to their whole existence. By their lights, they were better than the commoners and had special privileges because they protected the land. It didn't take much in the way of brains for them to realize that my warriors were better fighters than they were. They felt they were being undercut, and I suppose they were.
I began to realize that the open house was a big mistake I knew I'd never do it again, at least not with the nobility there, but there was nothing I could do now but brazen it out.