The Lady of the Castle (The Marie Series Book 2) Read online

  Marie knew what her friend was trying to say. Her perilous journey would start on Palm Sunday, when she would pretend to leave on a pilgrimage with Hiltrud and Thomas, and now that the day she had been longing for all winter was finally drawing near, she didn’t feel nearly as brave as before. Indeed, she almost hoped Hiltrud would ask her not to go, because her fear of what might happen to her and her daughter far away from home was growing steadily. But at this point, her friend hadn’t merely accepted her plan; she supported it, too.

  Hiltrud looked at her expectantly. “Do you have everything you want to take?”

  Marie nodded. “Trudi and I are ready.”

  “I’ll miss our little rascal,” Hiltrud said sadly. “And who will look out for your possessions while you’re away? Thomas is a good farmer, but we are not skilled in managing large estates like yours.”

  “Don’t underestimate your abilities,” Marie scolded her. “You will look after my four tenant farms and my vineyards, while Wilmar will take care of my properties in town and the money I have invested in long-distance traders. I’m sure you and Thomas will get along well with him.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Hiltrud returned Marie’s smile though she felt anything but cheerful. “Let’s just hope that no messenger from the count palatine shows up before Palm Sunday, calling you back to court or—even worse—to your own wedding.” She spoke only half in jest, because in her heart, that was exactly what Hiltrud hoped might happen.

  But Palm Sunday morning arrived without any word from the count, and Marie breathed a sigh of relief, pushing aside the doubts that had been weighing on her mind. She preferred to take responsibility for her own actions instead of being pulled back and forth at the whim of powerful lords like a pawn in a chess game.

  5.

  They left early that morning so that the neighbors didn’t see the huge packs all five of them were carrying on their backs. Marie had taken only the most necessary things, as she intended to buy the rest along the way, yet she, Hiltrud, Thomas, and their two eldest children were heavily weighed down. Like Hiltrud, Marie was wearing a simple, brown woolen dress and a warm gray patterned scarf around her head and shoulders, and Trudi was wrapped in a blanket on Marie’s chest. Despite the cold wind, she and her companions were soon sweating beneath their considerable burdens, moving their lips as if in prayer to strengthen the impression that they were pilgrims. Michi walked ahead with a stick he had decorated the night before with pussy willows and some of the year’s first green. Though Hiltrud had considered taking along her younger children as well, she’d decided against it, worried they might let slip something that could reach the wrong ears, and she had left them at home in a maid’s care.

  Just before reaching the town where Thomas had purchased the wagon and oxen, the two women and the children stayed behind at an inn. When they arrived, they were the only people there, but in the late afternoon, two wagon trains stopped outside the inn, and wagon drivers roughly pushed through the door. Since Marie and Hiltrud weren’t accompanied by a man, they were immediately thought to be prostitutes, and lascivious looks and suggestive comments were aimed their way. They retreated to their room with the children to avoid trouble.

  The next morning, Thomas appeared with a cart drawn by two oxen, leading the animals past the inn toward a road at the other end of the village that led into the forest. Marie had already paid the bill, so they immediately left the inn and followed the wagon as inconspicuously as possible, catching up with it at a secluded clearing.

  Hiltrud hugged her husband as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks, while Marie anxiously inspected the vehicle and animals. The wagon was relatively new and seemed very solid. Its caulked timber sidewalls reached up to her hips, and a double-sewn, well-tarred canvas served as protection against rain and wind, attached to a rounded frame arcing so high above the wagon that one could comfortably stand underneath. Wheels with massive spokes reached up to Marie’s chin, the hubs were well greased, and a tin bucket full of axel grease hung on the shaft in back. Small barrels were attached to both sides of the wagon, one with fresh water and the other with grain feed.

  “By God, Thomas! You really thought of everything,” Marie exclaimed after looking inside. There were several solid chests to hold her possessions and the precious merchandise. A straw mattress covered with a canvas and several blankets and sheepskins was lying atop one of them, making a comfortable bed for Marie and Trudi. In the back of the wagon was a cupboard screwed to the side wall, which not only had drawers, but as Thomas proudly announced, also several secret compartments for hiding Marie’s coins, her signet ring, and the jewelry she intended to barter in case of an emergency. Since she wanted to be able to abandon her role and turn back into a noblewoman at any time, she needed to carry a lot more money than a regular itinerant merchant.

  Hiltrud was more reluctant to praise, because now there was nothing left in the way of Marie’s departure, but she remained as practical as always. “Well then, we can finally load our packs on the wagon. My back is all crooked.” The others laughed and helped her stow the luggage. While Hiltrud and the children made themselves comfortable inside the wagon, Thomas climbed onto the box seat and patted the space next to him.

  “Come sit up here, Marie, so you can learn to steer your animals. Or were you planning on walking next to them like a servant?” Marie had no experience driving oxen but was willing to learn what she could in their few remaining days together. The draft animals weren’t much faster than people, but they tired less easily, and it was a lot more pleasant to travel without constantly stumbling over rocks and roots. Since they had told their neighbors they were going on a pilgrimage to Saint Marien am Stein, Hiltrud and Thomas would continue on to the pilgrimage church, where they would pray and buy devotional objects for themselves and for a few elderly and sick neighbors, while Marie and Trudi would make their way to the troops’ meeting place at Wimpfen.

  On the fourth day, Thomas thought that Marie had learned enough to drive the wagon. Everything went well at first, but when they came to a fork in the road and Marie tried to steer the oxen to the left, they stubbornly turned right.

  “Damned beasts!” Marie yelled at the animals. “Do as I tell you!”

  Her shouts didn’t help. Thomas was about to take the reins she held out to him in desperation, but then he shook his head. “You have to learn to deal with situations like this. Drive down the road and look for a place to turn the wagon.”

  Marie pinched her lips and let the oxen walk on. After a while, Marie spotted a bright strip of land behind a sparsely wooded part of the forest. “Look, Thomas, there’s a road headed off just before the village that might take us in the right direction.”

  “Then take it!” Thomas nodded with satisfaction.

  Even before they reached the main pilgrimage road, they spotted a sizable group of people ahead of them. The men at the front were carrying large crosses and flags decorated with pictures of saints, and walking at a brisk pace, as if their salvation depended on reaching Saint Marien am Stein as soon as possible. Marie knew that the main church celebrations would be held the next morning, and she wrinkled her nose, the pilgrimage site bringing back unpleasant memories. She knew from personal experience that the monks from the nearby monastery, who were supposed to look after the pilgrims, would be more interested in the harlots who turned up there than in the souls of people in prayer. But she quickly managed to shake these cobwebs from her mind. She wasn’t headed there, after all, and with Thomas at her side, Hiltrud would be safe from the lustful men of the cloth.

  When they soon reached another fork in the road, Marie stopped the oxen and looked at her friends. “It would be best now if you followed the pilgrims and I took the road to Wimpfen.”

  Thomas reluctantly agreed, though Hiltrud suddenly looked dejected, as if she had been hoping all along for a miracle that would render Marie’s journey unnecessary. Hiltrud was frozen
in place on her seat, and Thomas had to twice ask her to gather her belongings and get off the wagon. Her two children didn’t find it easy to say good-bye, either. Mariele clung to Trudi and started to cry when her mother ordered her to put the child back in her bed and climb down from the wagon.

  Marie gave Mariele a long hug, then lifted her onto the ground and gave her parents a questioning look. “You know what to do?”

  Sighing, Hiltrud answered. “We will buy so many candles and devotional objects in Saint Marien am Stein that the pious brothers who bless them are bound to remember us.”

  “And what will you say if someone asks about me?”

  “You met friends on the way who invited you to their castle, but we know neither the knight’s name nor where his castle is,” Thomas answered firmly.

  Marie nodded with satisfaction, but Hiltrud found a fly in the ointment. “But what if they accuse us of killing you in order to get your gold?”

  “Good you thought of that. I’ll write a letter you could have received from a messenger, confirming what you said.” Marie fetched some writing materials from the cupboard and sat down on a chest. It wasn’t easy to write neatly on the uneven wood, but once she had placed her seal and signature at the bottom, the letter looked so genuine that not even the count palatine would be able to find fault with it.

  As she handed the letter to her friend, she fought back tears. “Wish me luck!”

  “More than anything in the world!” Hiltrud vainly tried to dry her face on her sleeve. Marie looked so small and helpless sitting high up on the box seat with Trudi on her lap. Hiltrud looked at her husband.

  “This isn’t going to work, Thomas. Marie can’t do it on her own.”

  Thomas chewed on his lip thoughtfully, then nodded, grabbed his son under the arms, and lifted him onto the wagon next to Marie. “Go with your aunt, boy, and help her! Look after the oxen and do everything Marie says.”

  “What are you doing?” Hiltrud asked with a start.

  “I’m giving her our eldest son to take as a servant. Everything we are and everything we have we owe to Marie, and we must do whatever we can to help her.” Thomas turned away determinedly, put one arm around his wife’s shoulders, took Mariele by the hand, and started following the pilgrims.

  “I love you!” Marie called after them, but they didn’t turn around again. Michi stared after his parents, wondering whether he should accept this surprising turn of fate or run after them. But then he smiled at Marie and started to get excited about the adventure ahead. Marie set her mind to be even more careful than ever and to return the boy home safely.

  Not wanting to start her journey with anxious thoughts, she winked at Michi and said with a laugh, “Let’s go!”

  6.

  From the outset, Marie realized what a huge gift Thomas and Hiltrud had given her in Michi, and she hoped to pay back their generosity one day. Michi was used to dealing with oxen and took over their care so that Marie could look after Trudi. Despite his youth, his mere presence caused most men to leave her alone, and innkeepers let them camp in the courtyard just like the wagon drivers, where burly inn servants kept watch at night. The boy also knew how to deal with difficult situations. When the wagon threatened to sink into a muddy hole in the road, he fetched farmers from surrounding farms to lift the wagon with long poles and drag it to dry ground. It was Michi, too, who jumped off the wagon and asked for directions every time they got lost. After a few days, she knew she wouldn’t even have made it to Wimpfen without him.

  A wet and stormy April had set in when a steep hill suddenly rose out of the fog. Atop the hill on a rocky spur, a castle with massive towers dominated the valley. Below the fort lay the free imperial city of Wimpfen, surrounded by an equally imposing wall. As Marie approached a fork in the road, about to steer her oxen toward the city, a man stepped in her path.

  “The troops are that way!” He pointed east toward a forested area, and Marie looked with dismay at what might have been a road at one time but now looked more like a ten-foot-wide, churned-up swamp bordered by trees on each side. She could see bright tents shimmering through the still relatively bare trees and thought she could hear horses whinnying. Apparently, the good burghers of Wimpfen didn’t care to be too close to the soldiers. She smiled and thanked the man, who was still staring at her angrily. Then she pulled on the reins until the stubborn animals yielded to the pressure of their nose rings and steered them slowly toward the campsite. Michi jumped down and walked ahead to guide the oxen around the muddiest areas with a stick.

  A few young men with dirty pants and boots were watching, seemingly waiting for their cart to get stuck in order to help and earn themselves a tip, but their oxen were strong enough to pull the half-empty wagon into the camp. Most of the helpers who had been lurking alongside the wagon sighed in disappointment when she reached the campsite, but one of them gave a cheerful laugh and slapped one of his friends on the shoulder.

  “Did you get a good look at the woman? What a tasty-looking morsel.”

  One of his comrades chuckled. “You’ll have to wait for your pay and content yourself with the harlots.”

  “You already owe them so much, I think you’ll have to help yourself,” a third man joked, then pointed to another approaching merchant wagon that had just gotten stuck in the mud.

  While the men ran toward it in hope of earning a few coins, Marie surveyed her surroundings. On her left stood the simple, well-worn tents of the soldiers, and to her right the bigger ones belonging to the knights, decorated with flags and painted coats of arms. There was a pen made of rough-hewn poles for the horses, while the oxen were tied to trees at the end of the campsite, where they were chewing on hay. Near the oxen stood three wagons, covered with canvas just like Marie’s, and three women wearing colorful clothing were sitting in front of the wagons around a small campfire. When Marie steered her wagon in their direction, one of them stood up, put her hands on her hips, and looked at her coldly. Robustly attractive, the woman was around twenty-five years old. She wore a dark brown dress and a knitted scarf of undyed wool around her shoulders.

  “Who asked you to come?” she snarled at Marie.

  “Why should someone have asked me? I heard the Neckar-Frankish group was gathering here, so I came to offer my services.” Marie suppressed her annoyance at the unfriendly reception and smiled calmly.

  “I doubt you’ll be chosen. The noble merchant Fulbert Schäfflein provides supplies to this group, and he alone will be deciding which itinerant merchants will accompany it.”

  One of the other women laughed. “Don’t let Oda scare you off! She’s just jealous because you’re much prettier than she is.”

  Oda spun around and snapped at the woman who had spoken. “What’s pretty about that scrawny goat?” She was about to say something else, but Marie moved her oxen forward with a click of her tongue and steered them so close to the woman that they almost knocked her down. Oda cursed and jumped aside, threatening Marie with her fist, and Marie playfully swung her whip above the woman’s head in response.

  Parking her wagon next to the others, Marie jumped down to put wedges under the wheels, and the other merchant women curiously came forward. Michi gave the women a nod, unhitched the oxen, and led them to two unoccupied trees to tie them up. Uncertainly looking at a pile of hay, he turned to the women.

  One of them gave him a nod. “Donation from the local castellan, so help yourself.”

  While Michi fed the animals, the women formed a ring around Marie. “Are they your children?” asked one of the sutlers, who was roughly Marie’s age and wore a colorful dress sewn of many different scraps of fabric. The woman had a good figure, but her face was harsh and grim. Nevertheless, Marie felt she could trust her, and she placed Trudi in her outstretched arms.

  “This is my daughter, Trudi. The boy is called Michi, and he’s the son of my best friend. He’s come along to help
me and take care of the oxen.”

  “I could do with a lad like that. It’s hard work doing everything by yourself. My name’s Theres, and the pretty one over there is Donata,” the harsh-looking woman said, pointing to a middle-aged woman with light blond hair who was smiling at her amiably.

  “I’m Marie,” she said, shaking hands with the two women. Before she could say anything else, the wagon that had been stuck in the mud earlier arrived. It was smaller than the others and drawn by two skinny old horses. The woman sitting in the coach box seemed unusually tall, but almost emaciated in her thinness. She looked to be around fifty, her face full of wrinkles, but the light blue eyes that flashed from beneath a large black hat were clear and lively. She was wearing a wide skirt, an oversized blouse, a shoulder scarf of thick wool, and soldiers’ boots, everything pitch-black as if trying to emphasize her resemblance to a raven, the bird of the dead.

  Oda, who had been sulking off to one side, approached the new arrival and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Look who’s here—it’s Black Eva! You needn’t bother staying here, because the honorable Fulbert Schäfflein is personally choosing the merchants to sell his goods.”

  It was the second time the woman had mentioned the name of the man the count palatine wanted Marie to marry, and she was curious to meet the army supplier. Marie was lost so deep in thought, she didn’t notice Black Eva climbing down from her wagon and greeting the other women, then wandering over to Marie, scrutinizing her doubtfully, and grabbing a strand of blond hair that had freed itself from one of the braids wrapped around her head. “I don’t know you.”