Some readers had a doubt, so to make it clear, Henry is just a squire for Sir Radzig.
And when he becomes a knight, after that, it’s his own wish if he wants to become a member of House Kobyla or create his own house.
In my story, Henry would create his own house.
=====================================================
The savory aroma of roasting beef and garlic filled every corner of the mill, drifting through the warm kitchen where Theresa worked over the hearth.
Mutt sat near the fire, his tail occasionally thumping against the floor in blissful anticipation.
Tableware was clattering in the main room as Henry helped set the heavy oak table for dinner, placing wooden trenchers and pewter cups into order.
A heavy knock sounded against the timber front door.
Henry paused, checking his reflection in the polished surface of a pewter plate for a second.
Those would be them, he thought with a grin.
He walked across the room and pulled the heavy door open.
Standing on the porch, shaking the damp evening air from their cloaks, were Johanka, Matthias, Matthew, and Fritz.
“I hope we are not too late,” Johanka said with a warm, tired smile.
“You came right on time,” Henry replied, stepping aside to let them into the light.
“Theresa is just about finishing the food.”
Johanka stepped past him into the kitchen nook, holding out a neatly tied bundle of dried green herbs.
“We brought along something,” she said, softly pressing the dried bundle into Theresa’s hand.
“I gathered it along the riverbanks on the way down.
Hang it above the door lintel.
It keeps the damp rot out of the timber and, well…
it’s a blessing for your house.”
Theresa smiled, taking the herbs gratefully.
“Thank you, Johanka.
That’s very thoughtful.”
Meanwhile, Matthew cleared his throat, looking unusually bashful as he reached into his pouch.
He took out a pair of handcrafted cherrywood gaming dice and dropped them straight into Henry’s open palm.
“Carved them by the campsite while the rain was coming down,” Matthew muttered.
“Corners are a bit crooked, but they still roll true enough.”
Matthias stepped forward next, handing over a small leather strap wrapped around a sharpening stone—a sturdy hone for keeping a squire’s blade keen—while Fritz tossed a bundle of dried wild apples onto the table, grinning broadly.
“God’s teeth, it smells like a noble’s banqueting hall in here!” Fritz hollered, his eyes darting straight to the hearth.
“Henry, you bastard, we thought you were exaggerating when you said dinner!”
Matthew stared at the table as Theresa brought over the sizzling platter.
Laid out before them was warm rye bread, smoked garlic sausages, a dusty jug of spiced red wine, and a massive slab of browning beef.
“Where in the name of the Seven Kings did you get the groschen for all this, Henry?
Did you rob a merchant caravan on the road from Skalitz?”
“He didn’t rob anyone,” Theresa chimed in from the hearth, proudly adjusting the crimson silk ribbon Henry had tied in her hair earlier.
She turned to face them with a wooden ladle in hand.
“Show them, Henry.”
With a grin, Henry reached into his doublet and unpinned the silver-and-bronze badge of Sir Radzig Kobyla, setting it in the middle of the table.
It landed with a heavy, satisfying metallic clink.
Matthias leaned down, squinting at the crest under the lantern light, his jaw dropping slightly.
“That’s…
that’s Sir Radzig’s seal.”
“Not just his seal,” Henry said, leaning back against the timber wall with his arms crossed.
“You’re looking at Sir Radzig’s official squire.”
For a heart-beat, nobody moved.
Then Fritz let out a roar of laughter that nearly shook the rafters , slapping Henry hard on the shoulder.
“A squire?!
You?!
The blacksmith’s lad who couldn’t hit a fence post with a wooden sword three weeks ago?!”
“Careful, Fritz, or I’ll have you thrown in the Rattay pillory for disrespecting a nobleman’s servant,” Henry teased back, catching Fritz in a quick headlock before letting him go.
Johanka stepped forward, her eyes soft as she looked at Henry, shaking her head in genuine wonder.
“A squire…
God truly has a hand over you, Henry.
From the ashes of Skalitz to the service of the Hetman himself.
I thought Sir Radzig would at best make you a guard at the gate.”
“That means you could end up a knight, Henry,” Matthew said quietly, a mix of genuine pride and subtle envy flickering across his face.
“A real lord’s right hand.”
“Which means he can afford to feed his old Skalitz friends like kings for one night!” Fritz shouted, grabbing the jug of spiced wine and pulling the wooden cork with his teeth.
They all took their seats around the table, filling their trenchers and clinking wooden cups together.
As the wine flowed, the initial shock gave way to warmth and nostalgia.
“I still say it’s a miracle,” Fritz declared, pointing a half-eaten sausage link at Henry.
“One day we’re throwing manure at Deutsch’s fresh-painted house, and the next, Henry’s wearing a silver badge and drinking wine bought with royal groschen!
If old Deutsch could see you now, he’d choke on his own porridge.”
Matthew let out a short, dry laugh, leaning his elbows on the rough table.
“Deutsch is probably dead in the ashes, Fritz.
Most of Skalitz is.” He took a slow sip from his cup, his eyes darkening as the memory returned.
“Remember the tavern yard?
Catching Bianka’s eye while her father wasn’t looking…
The cheerful noise died right there.
Johanka stared down into her lap, her knuckles white around her wooden cup.
“We lost so many,” Johanka whispered softly, her voice thick with emotion.
“Every night , I see their faces when I close my eyes.
People we grew up with…
suffering in rags, begging for a bowl of watery soup.” She turned to look at Henry, her eyes earnest.
“That’s why I was so relieved when I heard you were made squire, Henry.
Sir Radzig is a good man.
If anyone can help our people get off the cobblestones and into proper shelters, it’s him—and you, now that you have his ear.”
Henry nodded slowly, reaching across the table to pat Johanka’s hand.
“I haven’t forgotten where we came from, Johanka.
I won’t let Sir Radzig forget either.
I’ll do whatever I can for the refugees in Rattay .”
“Good,” Matthew said, raising his cup slightly.
“Because the bailiff here in Rattay treats us like stray dogs.
If you hadn’t invited us tonight, Fritz and I would be sleeping on straw in a barn, wondering if we’d get kicked out by sunrise.”
“Speaking of which,” Fritz cut in, leaning forward with a devious sparkle returning to his eyes, “now that our Henry is a fancy squire to the Hetman…
maybe you can get us some work up at Pirkstein?
Guard duty?
Armorer’s assistants?
Heck, I’d even clear out the horse stables if it meant three meals a day and a real bed!”
Theresa laughed, shaking her head as she refilled their wine cups.
“You, clearing stables, Fritz?
You’d spend half the day napping behind the hay bales and the other half trying to gamble with the guardsmen using Matthew’s new dice!”
Matthew leaned forward, resting his elbows heavily on the oak table, his gaze dropping to his empty trencher.
“It’s no joke, Henry,” Matthew said, his voice dropping into a quiet, hard register.
“Fritz laughs, but we spent our last four groschen on a loaf of stale rye and two turnips three days ago.
The bailiff’s men threaten to drive us out of the lower bailiwick every time we stand near the baker’s stall, and the local guards look at us like we’re cutpurses just waiting for nightfall.
We don’t have boots for the coming rain, let alone coin for a warm bed.”
Fritz’s grin faltered slightly, his jaw tightening as he stared into his wine cup.
“A man can only sleep on damp straw with an empty belly for so many nights before he starts thinking about taking a club to the nearest merchant’s back alley.
If we don’t find proper coin soon, Henry…
we’ll be starving before the harvest is even in.”
“He’s right about one thing, though,” Matthew added, looking at Henry.
“We need work, Henry.
Real work.
We can’t live off charity forever, and the local guild masters in Rattay won’t hire Skalitz folk without a master’s recommendation.”
Henry took a drink of wine, thinking carefully before he spoke.
“I’ll talk to Sir Radzig and Captain Bernard tomorrow when I go up to Pirkstein to collect my cart.
I can’t promise knightly wages, but I can ask if there’s honest work for Skalitz men in the lower castle or with the garrison.”
“That’s all we ask, lad,” Matthew said softly, his tense shoulders relaxing.
“A fair chance.”
“To Skalitz,” Johanka said, lifting her cup into the center of the table.
“To those we lost, and to a new beginning here in Rattay.”
“To Skalitz!” they all chimed, clinking their cups together.
Fritz downed the rest of his wine in one long gulp and wiped his mouth, winking across at Theresa.
“And to Henry’s generosity!
Though I reckon he only bought all this fine food to impress a certain girl with a red ribbon in her hair!”
Theresa flushed bright red, quickly picking up an empty platter to hide her blushing face, while Fritz roared with laughter and Henry tossed a bread crust right at his head.
After enjoying the rich meal and fine wine, a comfortable quiet settled over the heavy oak table.
As the food was cleared away, the easy laughter began to quiet down.
Henry looked around at the faces of his friends—illuminated by the dying embers of the hearth—and decided the moment had come to speak what was truly on his mind.
“Fritz, Matthew, Matthias, Johanka…” Henry began, his tone shifting into earnest seriousness.
“What do you honestly think about how our Skalitz people are living here in Rattay?”
Matthew shifted on his bench, his expression tightening.
“Sir Hanus took us in, and that is generous enough.
But our people are sleeping on cobblestones, barely eating a bowl of thin broth a day.
The local townsfolk look at us like beggars and thieves.”
“Why do you ask, Henry?” Johanka asked softly, setting her wooden cup down.
Henry leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together.
“When I was escaping from Skalitz, and in all the days leading up to my return to Rattay, I came to realize one thing: this war is not going to end anytime soon.
From what I’ve gathered from captured bandits and scouts, Sigismund has a massive force in Bohemia—big enough to keep threatening the lords and terrorizing the countryside around Sasau and Rattay.
That means we have another war coming right to our doorstep.”
Johanka covered her mouth with a soft gasp.
“My God…”
Matthew, Fritz, and Matthias caught the solemn weight in Henry’s voice and sat up straight, their faces growing serious.
“What is it you’re really driving at, Henry?” Matthew asked quietly.
“I don’t want to put my life or my protection in someone else’s hands,” Henry said firmly.
“Sir Radzig is a good lord—a fair man—but even he must think of his own duty and position first.
Even with his goodwill, he is only one man, and we cannot expect that kind of generosity from other noble lords. This story is hosted at novelping.com.
But Sir Radzig made me his squire today.
In a war like this, a squire who proves himself on the battlefield can be knighted.”
He looked each of them in the eye.
“If this war lasts as long as I think it will, it means one of two things for a man like me: either I die in the mud, or I earn land and title of my own.
But if I’m going to fight through all this blood and ruin and come out clean on the other side, I need people and friends I can trust with my life.
Who better than you?
We are the survivors of Skalitz.
We lost everything.”
Henry took a breath, letting his vision unfold before them.
“I want to create a mercenary company of our own.
When I am knighted, I will use our company to fight for King Wenceslaus and his cause.
In return for our blood and service, the King or his allies will grant us land—even if it’s just a small fief, a piece of land to call our own, for us and for our people.”
The room fell completely silent.
The weight of his words hung thick in the warm air of the mill.
“Think about it,” Henry continued, his voice steady and resolute.
“The people of Skalitz have lost their homes, their livelihoods, their families.
Women have lost husbands; children have been orphaned.
But survival has made us tough.
If I am knighted tomorrow, I will be a landless knight.
A sword without a hall.
To build a true company, I need people I can rely on.”
He looked directly at Johanka.
“Every company needs a physician and surgeon to care for the wounded, to keep men alive when the steel starts flying.
There is no one I would trust more with that than you, Johanka.
“I already know a trader who can handle our provisions and grain.
I’ll forge and mend the steel, and lead us.
Matthew—you can walk lighter than a fox and see farther than anyone here; I need you ranging ahead on the roads.
Matthias—no one knows horses like you; you’ll keep our mounts healthy and the wagons moving.
And Fritz…” Henry offered a sharp, dangerous grin, “…you do what you’ve always done best.
Hit hard and break their line.”
Henry leaned back, looking around the table with deep sincerity.
“I am not asking you to follow me as your lord.
I am asking you to build something with me—something for yourselves.
I have no family left to mourn me if I fall in the mud, and neither do you.
So if you trust me, let us go through all this hell together and come out clean on the other side.
What do you say?”
The air became heavy.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Fritz reached out, grabbed his full wooden tankard, and slammed it down onto the oak table with a loud crack.
“I’m in, Henry!” Fritz declared, a fierce grin breaking across his face.
“You’re bloody right!
What do I really have left to lose anyway?
In Skalitz, I was just brawling in the tavern yard for copper coins.
I might as well use those fists to bash Cuman helmets, get vengeance for Skalitz, and come out rich on the other side—if I survive!”
“Count me in too,” Matthew said, a determined glint returning to his eyes as he nodded toward Henry.
“And me,” Matthias added with a resolute nod.
Johanka looked at the three of them, then at Henry, letting out a soft, resigned sigh accompanied by a fond smile.
“I’ll join as well.
God knows if I’m not there to tend your wounds, you fools would bleed to death from the very first scratch.”
Henry smiled warmly, then turned his gaze toward Theresa, who was sitting quietly beside the hearth.
“Theresa…
you have your Uncle Peshek here.
You should speak with him first before making any choices.”
Theresa gave him a soft, knowing smile, her eyes gleaming in the lantern light.
“Uncle Peshek has his own ways, Henry…
but we’ll see what the future holds.”
Fritz grabbed the wine jug and began pouring rich red wine into everyone’s cups until they were brimming.
He stood up, raising his tankard high into the air.
“To Henry!” Fritz bellowed.
“To Skalitz!
To becoming nobles, taking our vengeance, and getting justice for our home!”
“To Skalitz!” they all shouted in unison, clinking their cups together until the wine spilled over the sides, their voices echoing off the old timber walls of the mill.
Matthew set his empty cup down with a heavy thud, his sharp eyes locking onto Henry.
“Alright, Henry,” Matthew said, leaning across the table.
“You’ve given us a grand vision, and God knows we want it.
But right now, we’re four Skalitz refugees sitting in Peshek’s mill with empty purses.
You told us what we *want* to build, but that’s just talk.
What’s the actual plan?
How do we go from six people drinking wine to an armored company with horses, steel, and a charter from a lord?”