# Chapter 11: The Lord of Billungard

  The road from Regensburg to Erfurt was a long ribbon of mud and stone, cutting north through forests and river valleys. Forty riders of the Sword Cavalry moved in tight formation — green cloaks flapping, lances high, horses snorting steam in the chill air. Sir Herold Tarly Glint rode at the head on Ironfoot, face set, hazel eyes scanning the treeline. Roland rode at his right, grizzled and silent. Damian kept pace on the left, still smarting from his punishment laps but determined to prove himself.

  They passed through Center of Regensburg at midday. The city gates opened wide; peasants and merchants lined the streets, murmuring as the column rode by. Word had spread fast — the Duke attacked near Erfurt, mercenaries with no banners. The common folk watched the green-cloaked knights with a mix of awe and fear.

  Peasant Man (whispering to his wife):

  They say the Duke himself was wounded. If Henry falls, who protects us from the lords up north?

  Wife:

  Hush. The Blade of Nobility rides with them. He’ll bring answers.

  Herold heard the whispers but did not slow. The proofs from Swabia burned against his chest — ledgers, payments, troop movements. Erfurt was the next piece. Someone had paid those mercenaries. Someone wanted Henry dead — or at least slowed.

  The column pressed on.

  Hamburg – The Cathedral of St. Mary

  Archbishop Adalbert knelt alone before the great iron cross in the nave. Candlelight flickered across his narrow face — forty-nine years old, graying hair cropped short, eyes closed in prayer. The cathedral was silent except for the soft shuffle of nuns sweeping the stone floor.

  Abbess Felixia approached — tall, stern, gray hair under her veil. She bowed slightly.

  Abbess Felixia:

  Your Grace. The Billungs have refused. They will not yield the farmland near the Holy Bell of the South. Lord Karlet Billung sent word: “The land is ours by blood. The Church has no claim.”

  Adalbert opened his eyes. His voice was calm — too calm.

  Adalbert:

  Lord Karlet is acting like a prick now. Stubborn. Foolish.

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  He rose, walked to a table where a large map lay spread. His finger traced the borderlands south of Hamburg.

  Adalbert:

  The land will be ours. No matter what. It is rightfully Church property — granted by charter centuries ago. Karlet’s uncle Magnus lost it when he died without male heir twenty-seven years ago. Karlet crawled back five years ago like a rat and claimed a scrap of it. Named it Billungard. Now he defies us.

  Felixia folded her hands.

  Felixia:

  He has men. Armed. Loyal.

  Adalbert (smiling thinly):

  Men can be persuaded. Or removed. God provides ways.

  He rolled the map carefully.

  Adalbert:

  Tell the priests. We move soon.

  Felixia bowed and left.

  Inside the Cathedral – Lower Chambers

  A group of younger nuns knelt on the cold stone floor, hands clasped, heads bowed. A senior nun — Kunhild, stern-faced, late thirties — paced before them.

  Kunhild:

  Our Archbishop is having some beef with the Billungs of Billungard. They refuse to yield Church land. We pray for his wisdom — and for their obedience.

  One young nun — Gisela, barely eighteen, wide-eyed and curious — looked up.

  Gisela:

  Why? What claim does the Church have?

  Kunhild’s eyes flashed.

  Kunhild:

  Shut your mouth, girl. Questioning the Archbishop is sin. You need punishment.

  She grabbed Gisela by the ear — hard — and dragged her toward the stairs.

  Gisela (whimpering):

  Sister, please—

  Kunhild pulled her up the narrow stone steps to a small chamber used for discipline. She raised a bundle of thin sticks.

  Before the first blow fell, a voice cut through.

  Priest Albert:

  Leave her alone, Kunhild. I’ll handle this.

  Kunhild froze. Priest Albert — thirty years old, pale, intense eyes — stood in the doorway. His black robes were immaculate; his voice calm but firm.

  Kunhild:

  She questioned—

  Priest Albert:

  She is young. Ignorant. Not defiant. Go. I’ll speak to her.

  Kunhild hesitated, then released Gisela’s ear and left, muttering.

  Gisela rubbed her ear, eyes wide.

  Gisela:

  Thank you, Father.

  Priest Albert (soft):

  Don’t thank me yet. You must learn silence. Curiosity can be dangerous here.

  He turned to leave.

  Gisela:

  Father… why is the Archbishop so angry with the Billungs?

  Albert paused at the door, but said nothing. He left without answering.

  Gisela returned to the lower chamber. Her friends — three other young nuns — crowded around.

  Friend 1:

  What happened? Kunhild looked ready to skin you.

  Gisela:

  Priest Albert stopped her. Saved me.

  Friend 2 (teasing):

  Maybe he likes you. You’re beautiful, Gisela. No wonder any man would fall for you.

  Gisela (blushing):

  Stop it. It’s not like that.

  Friend 3:

  Still… why is Adalbert so set against the Billungs?

  Gisela:

  I asked. But he didn’t answer.

  Friend 1 (quietly):

  I heard from the older sisters. The last Duke of Saxony was Magnus Billung. He lost his lands twenty-seven years ago — no male heir. But his nephew Karlet Billung came back five years ago, claimed a small piece, named it Billungard. Now Adalbert wants the farmland — says it belongs to the Church.

  Gisela:

  So it’s about old claims?

  Friend 1:

  And power. Karlet won’t give it up. He’s stubborn.

  Gisela sat on her pallet, staring at the floor.

  Gisela:

  Then there’ll be trouble.

  The girls fell silent. Gisela lay down, eyes open.

  She slept uneasily.

  ---

  **Billungard – The Keep of Karlet Billung**

  Karlet Billung stood in his hall — tall, bearded, scarred from years of exile and fighting. His men gathered around a rough table, maps and swords spread out.

  Captain:

  The Archbishop’s men are probing the southern farms. They claim Church right.

  Karlet’s eyes narrowed.

  Karlet:

  You think I am a fool.

  He slammed his fist on the table.

  Karlet:

  This land is Billung land. My uncle Magnus lost it when he had no heir. I came back. I claimed it. I named it Billungard. The Church can pray all it wants — but they’ll not take one acre without blood.

  His men nodded.

  Karlet:

  Prepare the walls. Arm the tenants. If Adalbert wants war, he’ll have it.

  Outside, the wind howled across the fields.

  The Empire’s shadows were lengthening.

  :To Be Continued