He was by now a sturdy, broad-chested young fellow, getting well on to manhood, noted for his strength, and for his skill in all the games and feats of prowess and endurance that were a part of the training of boys in those days. Already had he ridden with Herr Werner in battle, and though no real armiger, by reason of his lowly birth, yet was he, in the disorder of the times, unchallenged as the knight’s chosen attendant and buckler-bearer on the lawless raids on which the baron led his train. Indeed, the baron himself had more than once taken note of the youth, and had on two occasions made him his messenger on errands both perilous and nice, calling for wit as well as bravery. Only Conradt hated him still—Conradt, with the sorry, twisted soul that held to hatred as surely as Wulf held to love. He was a year or two older than Wulf, and was already a candidate for knighthood; for, despite his crooked body, he was skilled, beyond many who rode in his uncle’s following, in all play at arms. There was no better swordsman even among the younger knights, and among the bowmen he had already a name. Despite all this, however, the baron’s nephew was held in light esteem, even among that train of robbers and bandits—for naught better were they, in truth, despite their knighthood and their gentlehood. They lived by foray and pillage, and petty warfare with other bands like themselves, and in many a village were dark stories whispered of their wild raids. Yet none of these would hold fellowship with Conradt, albeit they dared not openly flout the baron’s nephew. Nevertheless, he had gathered to himself a manner of following from the villages and countryside about the Swartzburg: criminals and refugees, for the most part, men who had suffered for their misdeeds at the hands of such law as was in the land; fellows whom no other leader would own, but who gladly fell in under a headship as bad as they. These ranged the forest wide and far, and from their evil raids was no poor man free nor helpless woman safe. Well knew the baron, overlord of all that district, of the doings of his doughty nephew; but for reasons of his own he saw fit to wink at them, save when some worse infamy than common was brought to his notice in such fashion that he could not pass it by. He were a brave man, however, who could dare the baron’s wrath so far as to complain lightly to him of Conradt, so the fellow went for the most part scot-free of his misdeeds, save so far as he might feel the scorn and shunning of his equals.