Read ALTDORF (The Forest Knights: Book 1) for Free Online Page A

in addition to being a sergeant-at-arms, Urs had been apprenticed to one of the Order’s weapons-makers. A quiet perfectionist with forearms almost as large as Pirmin’s, Urs was far happier handling hammer and anvil than using the quality weapons he forged.
    “I told you. Once we get to Zug I will sell some of my spices at the market and buy you a new horse. A good mountain pony that will carry your bulk to Basel without balking at every slope.”
    Urs grunted—a noncommittal sound that meant he neither agreed nor disagreed with Max. For a moment it looked like he might say more but instead wrapped his thick fingers around the mug in front of him and drained it.
    Since leaving Ruedi at Altdorf, the reality that their journey together was at an end had finally sunk in, and Thomas had been debating with himself where his own path would finish. Max had family in Zug, Urs was from Basel, Gissler’s father was a steward of land in the Aargau, Anton was headed to Appenzell, and Pirmin could not stop talking about the mountains of Wallis and his family’s black-necked goat farm, although he seemed to be taking the long way home by going through Schwyz.
    Schwyz. This was where their journey together had begun so many years ago. It was fitting that it should also end here.
    “Max, I would collect my share here in the morning,” Thomas said.
    Conversation within the group ceased and as one they turned to look at Thomas. When they were on campaign, Max had always looked after the troop’s money. He had a mind that never forgot a sum and he could write numbers. He knew a few letters, but the only one of the group who could truly read and write was Thomas.
    Money had not played a large part in the sergeants’ military lives, since their everyday needs were supplied by the Order, but they were given a small salarium every month to be spent how they chose. Before leaving Rhodes for the last time, Max had collected the meager life savings of his friends together and exchanged the coins for a letter of credit from the Order of Saint John, which was redeemable at any of the Order’s hospices or estates scattered throughout Europe. Many merchants took advantage of this deposit and withdrawal system offered by both the Hospitallers and the Templars, since it was a safe way to conduct business in lands rife with thieves and highwaymen.
    Max had redeemed the letter at a hospice they found in northern Italia a week ago, but since everyone trusted him, he still held all the coin himself, doling it out carefully when they needed to purchase meals or lodging.
    “So you will be staying here in Schwyz then?” Max asked, looking over his half-eaten bowl of stew.
    Thomas shrugged. “For awhile. Remember that old man and his ferry we passed on the lake close to Brunnen? It gave me an idea.”
    “You will be wasting yourself here in the poor country,” Gissler said. “Come with me up north to the Aargau. My father has connections—I am sure he knows someone who could put our swords to use.”
    Thomas shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, Gissler, but I mean to try my hand at something different. It seems the Good Lord has more than hinted that my time as one of His sword bearers has come to an end, and frankly, I have no desire to see it put to another’s use.”
    “Thomi, Thomi. Your days on the water are over. What would you be wanting with an old rotten barge I wonder?” Pirmin said, already drinking from his third mug of ale.
    Thomas’s eyes came to life. “She will not be rotten when I finish with her.”
    Pirmin stared at Thomas for a moment while he sopped up the juices of his stew with a chunk of crusty bread. He popped it into his mouth and spoke around it, which had the effect of lessening his Wallis accent, and curiously, made his speech easier to understand.
    “Well I know as soon as I get back home to Tasch my family will want to marry me off to keep the Schnidrig line going strong. And I admit I look forward to one