And it went right in, just like a real pike does into the practice dummies! I threw myself to the side away from his lance, just like I was in a drill. The baron and his horse fell in a woeful heap right where I had been standing! The pike had gone in a full two yards before it had shattered, and the horse moved not at all.
Doctrine was to hit the downed horseman as quickly as possible, but I thought he wouldn't get up and I didn't want the baron's men calling foul on me. I picked up the quarterstaff from where I had tossed it and stood, waiting to see what the baron would do.
He tried to stand, but I could see that his leg had been broken in the fall, just above the knee. I relaxed, foolishly thinking that I had already won.
The baron was struggling to get to his feet, despite his obviously broken leg.
"Sir Conrad!" I shouted. "The baron's leg is broken! What should I do?"
"Ask him if he yields to you! If he does, or if he's dead or unconscious, the fight is over! Otherwise-it's still on, so watch yourself!"
I turned to my opponent. "Baron Stefan, do you yield to me?"
"Yield to you, you filthy peasant! You've killed my best war-horse and he was worth fifty of you! You're going to die for that!" Then he somehow got up with only one good leg, drew his sword and swung it at me. I was so astounded at his toughness that I almost didn't get out of the way in time. The tip of his sword flashed by just grazing my throat. I actually felt it touch, though it didn't break the skin.
I leaped backward and fell in the process. I scrambled to my feet to find that the baron was hopping after me on one leg! I left my quarterstaff on the ground and backed off. I couldn't figure-out how this was possible! Did the man feel no pain at all? Or was he really so insane that he had the impossible strength that you hear of berserkers having?
I didn't know, but I continued backing up, staying out of his way. Surely he couldn't keep this up for long! Yet he was attacking me at a remarkable speed, and had the advantage of being able to see where he was stepping, or rather hopping. I was keeping my eyes on the madman, and in the process I tripped over a tree root, again failing down. He swung at me and gave me a bad cut in the right calf. It hurt, but I didn't have much time to consider the pain. If I didn't fight him, he was going to kill me!
I had to run back and circle around the baron to get my quarterstaff, and the baron's men jeered me as I did it. Well, let them! They weren't trying to fight an armed and armored madman while they were completely defenseless and naked!
I got my staff and turned to find the baron only a few yards away. He had lost his great helm when his horse went down, and like most knights he wore an open-faced helmet under it. His face was red, his forehead was beaded with sweat and his eyes-there was no sanity in them!
He swung at me, but I slapped his sword aside with my quarterstaff. This is necessary, because you dare not use a wooden stick to fend off a steel edge. Rather you must slap the side of his blade and still make it go some where that you are not! No easy thing, but my life depended on it.
Before he could recover, I gave him a stop thrust to the solar plexus. I caught him square and hard, but it didn't stop him! I think it stopped his breathing, but the man didn't even bend over! He swung again, and again I was able to knock the blade aside. But this time, I was in position to swing a strong blow straight down on his head. It staggered him, and I could see blood run down his forehead where the edge of his helmet cut his skin, yet he was still on his feet, or rather his foot, for one was all that he had to stand on.
I waited a moment, surprised that I hadn't knocked him cold. Then his sword arm started to move, so I hit him again with all my might, this time a side blow to the neck.
He crumbled at my feet. I stood there, breathing hard, absolutely expecting him to get up and fight again.
Then a cheer went up from my fellow grunts, and Sir Conrad and Sir Vladimir were cheering with them! Soon the applause spread even to the baron's men, whether because they did not like him or because they truly admired my performance, I did not know.
But it felt good, and it felt better yet to be alive!
Sir Conrad and one of the baron's knights came out on the field and examined the baron. He was dead. My last blow had broken his neck.
"A very good fight," Sir Conrad said, getting out the medical kit he always carried. "Let's take care of that leg."
Can you believe that I had actually forgotten that I was wounded? There was a trail of my own blood from where I was cut to where I stood, yet I had forgotten about it!
It took fifteen stitches to close my wound, by which time the knights had loaded the baron, without his armor or surcoat, onto the back of one of the squire's horses. All present felt that the baron's arms and armor were mine by right of combat.
I never used them and I never sold them either, though once a merchant offered me twenty-seven thousand pence for the set, mostly because of the solid gold fittings on the sword and helmet, and the spurs were solid gold, in the French style. It seems that the gold wash on the chain mail wasn't all that expensive at all a mere five hundred pence, although it had to be renewed every year because it wore off.
No, I kept that armor and one day hung it on my wall, as a decoration and a memento of this day and all that happened because of it.
Sir Conrad asked two of Baron Stefan's senior knights to go with him to Okoitz, as witnesses as to what had taken place. Count Lambert's most powerful vassal had been killed, and a party would have to go and make explanation to him.
"Sir Conrad," I said, "am I in trouble for what I did this day?"
"Not as much as you were in a few minutes ago." He laughed. "But the fact remains that you have killed a man who vastly outranked you, and I'm not sure what Count Lambert will do. The duke would probably kill you on general principles, but I doubt if Count Lambert will. He never liked the baron, or his father either. Furthermore, the baron had no living relatives that I know of. He was the last of an old line. There will be no one powerful after your blood. I don't think that even his own vassals had much love, for him, so it's likely that you're safe."
"Likely" is not a comforting word when the subject is one's own life.
Sir Conrad decided that it would be just as fast to complete the run as to go back, so soon the others left running. I returned with Sir Vladimir and the two of the baron's men who stayed behind. One of them, a Sir Xawery, was kind enough to lend me his horse, so that I didn't have to walk on my wounded leg. He led it by the bridle, so I had no difficulty with the animal. Baron Stefan's arms and armor were loaded on the back, and Sir
Vladimir promised to send someone out later for the saddle and lance.
Five of us went to Okoitz that day, Sir Vladimir, Sir Conrad, the baron's two knights, and myself. We were all in armor and I was riding Sir Gregor's war-horse, for my own had been given to Jozef Kulisiewicz almost a year ago. It was the first time that I had ridden a real charger, and the truth was that he scared me almost as much as the baron had that morning. A truly ferocious animal!
We stopped at Sir Miesko's on the way and he joined us, for all felt that it would be useful to have someone along who was versed in the law. Sir Miesko spent some time talking with Sir Xawery and then told me that I had little to worry about. I had been on my lord's lands and fought at his bidding, so I had done no wrong.
This relieved me considerably, and I was in a lighthearted mood as we rode past the new construction and into Okoitz.
Count Lambert was in the bailey, talking to his master carpenter, Vitold, when he saw us.
"Sir Conrad, don't tell me that you've gotten into more trouble!"
"Not 1, my lord, but perhaps my squire has. Baron Stefan is dead."