Free The Promise by T. J. Bennett

hovering nearby with an excited expression on his face. The moment the sergeant major halted the drill, Günter turned to his men.
    “Fall out! To beer!” he called, and the soldiers scattered like chaffs on the wind.
    Günter motioned to Fritz with a jerk of his head to accompany him as he walked. He lifted his cloak from the barrel of the culverin he had draped it on and swung it around his shoulders.
    “What news of our bird?” he murmured when they had walked several paces. He fastened the heavy cloak around his neck.
    Fritz’s clear blue eyes were alight with mischief. “She makes ready for flight. They have been taking down the tent all morning.”
    Günter looked askance at him. “All morning?”
    Fritz nodded. “Yes. The dismantling has gone unusually slow,” he said with a slight grin.
    Günter raised one brow. “You have found some means to delay her?”
    “Nay. I have not had to. Inés has been more of a hindrance than a help, I fear. I suspect Inés delays her departure for her own purpose, though I know not why.”
    “Hmmm. Interesting.” Günter stroked a finger across his closely cropped beard. “Mayhap we have an ally inside the enemy’s walls. One who might just open the gates for us.”
    Fritz looked startled. “Enemy?”
    Günter glanced at him. “A figure of speech. Continue.”
    “I have done as you said, and come to fetch you when the Señora’s desertion seemed most imminent.”
    “Good. I’ll see to this desertion … personally.”
    Günter turned back to Fritz and handed him the missive he had already penned to his commander. “Give this to von Frundsberg. He will know of its contents.”
    Fritz eyed it, his brow furrowing. “You are not resigning, are you?” He shifted his feet. “That is, I had hoped you might be my sergeant when I muster in.”
    Günter spared him a smile. “Do not fear, son. I’ll return when the time is ripe. The letter only confirms my promise to do so.” In exchange for keeping his pay for the month, Günter had sworn to return before the commencing of the mission to free Pavia from the French siege. His long service to the company had persuaded the commander to agree to such an unusual arrangement.
    Günter shook his head. “For a man who has managed not to make any promises to anyone, I now find myself making them with alarming frequency. Besides, I signed a contract, like every mercenary here.”
    “But everyone knows such contracts are only good for as long as the gold lasts … or until the company’s owner dies,” Fritz pointed out.
    “And even a mercenary is only as good as his word,” Günter retorted. He pinned Fritz with his gaze. “Mark me, son, never give your word if you can help it. But if you give it, keep it unto death.” He clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Others may think of us as drinking, whoring, sons-of-the-damned—and they would be right—but a mercenary’s word to a comrade is better than the best blade money can buy.”
    Fritz nodded slowly and slipped the letter inside the willow pack he always wore around his waist. “What if the pay runs out before the siege breaks, and the men leave?” His keen interest showed in his eyes.
    Günter shrugged. “Then the captain will need me to muster in new recruits to replace the deserters.” He grinned. “You may get your chance yet, if you can secure some of their weapons.”
    “But what if coin does not come and the commander promises them papal gold?” Fritz’s eager expression changed to one of unease.
    Günter clenched his jaw and looked away for a moment.
    “Then he will need me to maintain order and discipline,” he said.
    Fritz’s grim expression communicated his understanding. Günter knew Fritz had followed the Fähnlein long enough to see what soldiers, aroused with bloodlust and greed, could do to innocent townspeople after a battle.
    Everyone expected the looting and pillaging. However, an unrestrained mercenary army often added rape,