Chapter 3: Joerg Isebrand Becomes a Landsknecht and Fights the Danish

They took an eastward road from Elmenhørn, marching at a moderate pace. Joerg was happy with that; his legs hurt from last night's march. He tried to get to know his companions. There were twenty-two of them, once they picked up another dozen men at a different inn. They marched until late afternoon. There was no village on the way where they could spend the night, and they asked for quarter at a large farm. The farmer and his armed knechte made them leave, however. They ended up sleeping in a small copse of wood by the road, and they placed sentries on each side of their camp. Joerg soon found out that Gernot was a cautious leader who planned to retire one day with his life's winnings.

The next day, they marched further east, again through empty land. They were able to shoot a doe with a crossbow bolt, and they were all looking forward to a dinner of venison. When evening approached, they came across a small farm, the house almost invisible behind a stand of chestnut trees. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky, and they walked towards that farmhouse, in the hope of finding shelter against the threatening storm.

Indeed, the freeholder allowed them the use of his barn for the night. When Gernot offered five Silver Marks, the farmer's wife prepared a large pot of venison stew for them, and they ate well. The storm broke loose after their supper, and they were glad to be out of the rain, sleeping on the hay in the barn.

On their third day, they reached Lubeck in the evening. Joerg was awed by the sheer size of the city and its magnificent buildings. He had never seen that many people, and he was amazed at their rich clothing. He also noticed that men and women were often portly, something the hard working peasants of the marshes never attained. They marched through the city to the city hall, a richly decorated building that reflected the wealth and power of the Hanse, for Lubeck was part of that powerful alliance of trading cities.

Gernot of Brederode conferred briefly with the captain of the City's guard who welcomed them and had them shown to their quarters. Here, they met the other mercenaries who had already joined the ranks. There were one thousand armed men present, with scores of auxiliaries, like blacksmiths, traders, whores, and beggars who would do whatever chores were asked of them.

An empty storage house for codfish was assigned to them, and they made themselves comfortable as best they could. Food was free and ample, part of the costs the city had agreed to bear. They also received payment once a week, and Gernot warned Joerg not to spend too much of his pay since they could not expect to make money by looting. They were hired to defend the city, and no offensive action was planned.

Their days were spent practising with their weapons, and Gernot took it upon himself to introduce young Joerg to the finer points of sword fighting. He also learned to master the crossbow and the halberd, and Gernot explained to his new acquisition the tactics of warfare. Gernot was a patient man and a born teacher, and several others of the younger men joined them in the evenings when he told the stories of his exploits in the pay of most every sovereign in Northern Europe. He was over forty, and the scars he bore all over his body were testimony to his claim of experience.

Three weeks after their arrival, the whole troop of mercenaries, now close to two thousand, were roused to march. Supposedly, the Danish were approaching on the city, and the mercenaries were to head them off while the citizens manned the walls and gates. After a two-day march north, they encountered another troop of mercenaries, these under Danish flag. They were of equal strength, and for three days, the two groups had a stand-off. By this time, field pieces had been summoned from Lubeck, and the Chief Gunner took it upon himself to subject the Danish to a veritable cannonade. One or two cannonballs even landed inside the Danish camp.

The following morning, the Danish emerged from their camp in fighting order, that is, they marched in a ragged line, while two or three drummers beat a step that nobody followed. Joerg heard a few of his comrades shout greetings to men they knew from earlier campaigns. Then the captains ordered them to advance.

Gernot kept his rotte close together, forming a solid body of men. They moved forward with their halberds lowered, against the advancing men under Danish flag. When they were only fifty steps apart, the Danish started their charge, running full tilt.

Joerg held on to his halberd when the Danish impacted on their line. Three or four of them skewered themselves on the points of the halberds, but a few broke through. Suddenly, Joerg found himself opposite an attacker, and he had not yet pulled his sword.

The man tried to run Joerg through with a short sword, but Joerg was nimble on his feet, and he stepped to the side. This brought him close to his opponent, and he grabbed the man's vest, giving him a fierce head butt. Joerg wore a close-fitting skull helmet, and he crashed against his opponent's nose guard. The man fell like an ox under the hammer.

Joerg jumped back to pull his sword, but no other opponents came near him. Already, the Danish were rebuked and retreated towards their camp where they licked their wounds.

Joerg's opponent woke from his unconsciousness a half hour later, looking about him dazedly.

"Nigh on cracked me skull, the big bastard did," he complained, pulling off his helmet and examining his broken nose. He glared at Joerg who watched him. "Ouch! Damn it! Couldn't ye just run me through, rather'n breaking me nose?"