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

  6.

  It was the most miserable winter camp Black Eva could remember. The city of Nuremberg with its big markets and trading houses bursting with goods was only two hours away, but it might as well have been on the moon, as the soldiers, servants, harlots, and sutlers were prohibited from entering it under threat of severe punishment. Instead, the soldiers had to find housing in a small village, whose inhabitants openly detested them and hid their provisions from the army. Flour and meat were only available for gold, but hardly anyone in the camp had more than a few pennies in his purse. Even Sir Heinrich didn’t have much more left than his poorest servant, as he’d had to empty the war coffers as well as his own purse to save his people from starvation.

  In addition, Marie’s disappearance still weighed heavily on those who had known her. No one from Sir Heinrich’s group could understand what had happened, and the person who might know the truth, Falko von Hettenheim, avoided the camp like the plague since his last fight with his cousin. Since neither Losen nor Marie had returned to the camp, they were both presumed dead.

  Eva stared gloomily at the dirty, trampled snow covering the ground. There was a hint of spring in the air, but it was still bitterly cold. She shivered and pulled her threadbare scarf more tightly around her, the movement waking Trudi, who had fallen asleep on her lap.

  Pursing her lips, the child looked up at Eva. “I’m freezing and hungry!”

  Wrapping the little girl up more securely, Eva put a prune in her mouth. Trudi chewed eagerly, but her eyes were asking for more.

  “You’ll get a warm meal soon,” Eva said, trying to console the girl.

  The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Yes, pinecone porridge.”

  Things weren’t quite that bad yet, but Trudi had called it that ever since Anselm had jokingly told her that the stew they had day after day made of water, old flour, rancid fat, and dried peas was actually made of pinecones. Sighing, Eva thought that a meal made from cones could hardly taste worse than what they were eating. If it hadn’t been for the resourcefulness of Görch, who knew his Frankish countrymen and went from village to village begging for food, they would have perished even with the provisions Sir Heinrich had bought.

  “Hey, Eva! What’s the matter? Your face would curdle milk if we had any.” Theres came out of the hut the two women shared and sat down next to the old sutler. Though they had been assigned to different groups during the hasty retreat from Bohemia, like Eva, Theres had joined Sir Heinrich’s group again at the meeting place; Oda, however, had joined a merchant train headed for Worms in the hope of giving birth in Fulbert Schäfflein’s house. The other merchant women were glad to be rid of her, as she had been a troublemaker to the end.

  Eva spat out the plum pit she had been sucking on for hours and turned to Theres. “I’ll look more content as soon as the kaiser gives us better quarters and pays the soldiers their outstanding wages.”

  “May God grant that it happens. I can’t afford another loss like last year. Most of those who owe me money are dead or have deserted without paying.” With a bitter laugh, Theres glanced at the huts where they were all quartered. She had lived better, but she was glad to at least have a roof over her head. “Do you think the kaiser’s campaign will be more successful this year?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Hungry!” Trudi called out again.

  Theres softly pinched the girl’s chin. “The meal is ready. I was just about to call you.”

  With a sigh, Eva got to her feet and picked up Marie’s daughter. “Let’s get our bowl of pinecone porridge and hope it tastes better than it did yesterday.”

  “It can hardly get worse with those ingredients.” Giving an even greater sigh, Theres returned to their hut, where a rather unappetizing mass was simmering in a large kettle. The two sutlers cooked for about twenty men, amounting to a third of the soldiers Sir Heinrich had left. The rest cooked for themselves or ate with the two aging prostitutes no other group had wanted to take.

  As Theres dunked a large spoon in the gray mass and stirred once more, Eva put Trudi down and clanged together two pieces of iron. The soldiers seemed to have been waiting for that sound, as they came running out of their huts with their bowls held in front of them. Grim-faced, Eva took each bowl and handed it to Theres to be filled. After throwing a few pieces of dried fruit and a piece of bone-dry fish into each bowl, she handed them back. Junker Heribert received the same ration as everyone else. At the beginning of the winter, the young Seibelstorff had asked the kaiser to take Heinrich’s group to his nearby winter property to set up their seasonal quarters, but the kaiser had instead ordered them to stay in that village near Nuremberg.

  Junker Heribert was certain that Falko von Hettenheim was behind the denied request, which didn’t particularly ease his anger at the man. But Falko was now only the first on a list of men he had to challenge to a duel to restore his honor, because when he’d tried to get food from his castle, a few imperial captains had been bold enough to intercept the wagon and keep everything for themselves, including the old wagon driver.

  As on most days, Junker Heribert sat in the merchant women’s hut, glumly eating his stew. His expression smoothed when Trudi toddled toward him, and he even managed a small smile. “Well, my darling? How are you?”

  Trudi climbed in his lap. “Good! But Mama is still not here, and pinecone porridge is disgusting!”

  Heribert’s smile vanished. Even though Marie had been almost twice his age and far below his rank, he had planned on taking her to his castle after the Bohemian war and convincing her to become his wife. Her sudden disappearance could only mean she’d met with a cruel death at the hands of the Hussites, and since then, he’d had a festering wound in his heart that would probably never heal again.

  “Where’s Sir Heinrich?” Eva asked, noticing their leader’s absence.

  “He has ridden to Nuremberg to see the imperial governor and demand the supplies promised us weeks ago.” It was obvious that Anselm had wanted to accompany his master, and he was angry at himself for kindly allowing Michi to take his place at the knight’s side. Now he worried the boy might do something foolish and get Sir Heinrich in trouble.

  The others also cast worried glances toward the door, as if hoping to conjure up their leader with their eyes, and, indeed, a few moments later he appeared. His broad frame had become haggard over winter, and his hair had turned gray before its time, but his eyes shone with new confidence.

  “You’re already eating! That’s good, because I’m starving.” Sir Heinrich accepted a full bowl from Theres. After wolfing down a few mouthfuls to satisfy the worst of his hunger, he grinned like a rascal.

  “The kaiser is back in Nuremberg. He spoke a few words to me and ordered the governor to send us fresh provisions. The first delivery is supposed to arrive this afternoon. What do you say to that?”

  “I’ll only believe it when I see the flour and bacon,” Theres said.

  The knight laughed. “I saw the wagon being loaded with my own eyes. And tomorrow we’re supposed to get new weapons and gear.”

  Eva looked up warily. “That sounds like there’s going to be a new campaign. Has the kaiser brought an army? There are no more than five hundred men stationed around here.” She thought it odd that the kaiser had their group live in a miserable village for more than three months, in poor conditions and without the necessary provisions, then suddenly showered them with goods. But she kept her doubts to herself and asked after Michi. “I hope he served you as well as a squire should.”

  Heinrich von Hettenheim reassured her. “The boy is a good, hardworking lad. As we were about to depart, he asked me if he could stay a little longer to visit a friend.”

  “Probably Timo, the one-legged beggar. He visited him a few times before the snow. God knows why he likes the old fellow so much.”

  “Apparently Timo is from the same town as he and Mari
e.” Heinrich made a sound—half sigh, half growl—and bared his teeth. “By the way, my honorable cousin is also back in Nuremberg.”

  Junker Heribert jumped up, almost upending the wobbly table. “What are you saying? Finally! This time he won’t escape my lance!”

  “Young fool, sit back down! You must get wrought and steeled before doing battle with my cousin, so be patient and don’t spoil it for yourself with unseemly haste.”

  Young Seibelstorff trembled with anticipation, but he did as Heinrich said, laughing harshly. “It sounds as if you want to give him time to conceive an heir.”

  Sir Heinrich placed a hand on the Junker’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m wishing him a few more daughters before he goes to hell.”

  Junker Heribert waved dismissively. “He’ll probably get half a dozen maids pregnant so he can replace the next girl with a bastard son.”

  “He could have done that long ago with another wife, but Hulda is much too proud of her noble bloodline to call a bastard her son.” Sir Heinrich chuckled loudly, but it was Michi who ended the argument. Shooting through the door as if wolves were chasing him, he started to talk so fast that the others could hardly understand him.

  “We’re going to war! That’s what Provost Marshal Pauer said to the governor when he complained about having to open the armory for us.”

  “What are you saying, boy? Something is finally happening! I’m sick and tired of this place.” Heinrich felt the paralysis and despondency of winter falling off him like an old coat, and he pulled Michi to him with a smile, ruffling his hair. “You’re a smart lad, Michi. What else did you hear?”

  “Not much. They said we were to accompany some Bohemians back to their home.”

  “Well, it’ll be interesting to find out what’s awaiting us,” Anselm said doubtfully. He was far less excited than his master upon hearing the news, since war implied the possibility of getting killed, and he didn’t like that prospect. Yet he would rather let himself be torn to pieces than abandon his master. “There’s a lot to do before we march. Will you help me with the preparation, Michi?”

  Michi looked questioningly at Eva. “Would that be all right? I’ll come back as soon as you need me.”

  Cackling, the old sutler shook her head. “Go. I won’t need you until we get provisions and I have to stow them. I only hope they’ll allow me a credit this time, or my wagon will remain empty.”

  “Not just yours,” Theres snapped. “The little bit I have left from last year won’t get me far.”

  7.

  The wagon with provisions hadn’t yet arrived, but no one complained about the food, because rumors were fluttering around the camp like butterflies. Just before mealtime, a courier from Nuremberg had turned up, carrying a sealed letter for Sir Heinrich, written on the finest handmade paper. Now Heinrich was sitting in a corner of Eva’s hut, letting his bowl of stew go cold as he pored over the letter. Reading it repeatedly, and grimly staring into thin air between readings, he eventually started to curse more blasphemously than anyone had ever heard him curse before. “I bet we’ve got my wretched cousin to thank for this trick!”

  “What?” Junker Heribert shot up from his seat, as he did whenever Falko von Hettenheim was mentioned, and rushed over to Heinrich, who furiously held out the imperial letter.

  “Read it yourself! His Majesty the kaiser is sending us out to help his loyal supporters at Falkenhain Castle, two days’ ride north of the city of Pilsen. It is our task to protect Count Sokolny from the Hussites.”

  Seibelstorff looked at him with confusion. “Then I don’t understand your dismay, Sir Heinrich. It’s a noble and brave deed, and it will bring us glory.”

  “I’m afraid there won’t be any glory to be had. It’s as good as certain that we’ll meet a superior force of Bohemians and will all be killed before we’re even halfway there. This mission is pure madness.” In his excitement, Sir Heinrich had forgotten that more than a dozen people were listening. Noticing the frightened faces around him, he unhappily grimaced.

  “Anyone who doesn’t want to follow me to Bohemia is free to go another way.”

  Agitated, Junker Heribert shouted, “I certainly won’t abandon you!” The knights’ squires, Anselm and Görch, exchanged a brief glance, then sighed with resignation. “We’ll follow our masters wherever they go.”

  Eva wielded the soup ladle as if threatening any Bohemian who dared to stand in her way. “I wouldn’t know where else to go, Sir Heinrich. My wagon and I belong to your group.”

  Theres also nodded. “Death is part of the war. It can just as easily get me in Flanders or in Swabia.”

  Since no one sneaked away or protested, the other soldiers eating in the hut also finally nodded, and one made an effort to smile. “Well, Sir Heinrich, if we didn’t want to go to war with you, we wouldn’t have stayed here all winter. If God wills it, we’ll make it through this campaign, too.”

  His comrades agreed vigorously. Touched by the show of loyalty, Sir Heinrich immediately displayed a renewed confidence that everyone could feel, even those who heard the news later.

  The next day, Gisbert Pauer arrived as the kaiser’s emissary, bringing with him the longed-for wagon of provisions as well as one with weapons and other equipment. While the soldiers and servants unloaded the wagons, the provost marshal accompanied Sir Heinrich to his hut to give him final instructions. Pauer didn’t make a secret of the dangers facing them, but he expressed his sincere hope that the mission would succeed. “Count Sokolny’s messengers will lead you safely to their home, so you won’t have much to fear on your way to Falkenhain. Gather your two hundred men and leave as soon as you can!”

  Heinrich von Hettenheim laughed bitterly. “What two hundred men are you talking about? Many of my men fell in battle last year or died of illness, and the knights have returned to their castles with their followers. I can’t blame them, as the promised imperial wages and provisions didn’t arrive till today. To keep anyone with me through the winter, I had to empty my pockets to the last penny.”

  Pauer knew very well that commanders and captains often had to wait for years to be paid, and that more than one had fallen into poverty, such as Heribert’s father, Heribald, because the promised money had never arrived. Shaking off these unpleasant thoughts, he addressed Heinrich. “The kaiser promised two hundred men to the Bohemians, so we shouldn’t send them much less than that. I’ll find another group to add to yours.” Forcing a smile, Pauer left with assurances that the Bohemians would join them later that day. Sir Heinrich had always gotten along well with the imperial provost marshal, but this time he was glad when Pauer climbed into his saddle and rode back to Nuremberg.

  As he returned to his hut, Anselm and Görch came running toward him, while Junker Heribert approached at a more measured pace. The knight’s voice betrayed his impatience, however. “What did Pauer say?”

  “We will receive reinforcements, and the Bohemians we’re supposed to accompany will join us today.”

  Görch tilted his head to the side, looking at his master questioningly. “Those Bohemians—you don’t think they’re secretly Hussites, trying to lure the kaiser into a trap?”

  “Let’s hope not,” Sir Heinrich replied with a fake laugh, clearly disappointed as he spotted Feliks Labunik and Marek Lasicek coming toward them. After all the excitement these men had caused, he had expected more than a nobleman with a sad face and drooping shoulders and a grumpy soldier, both of them looking more like poachers than civilized men in their long wolf-skin coats.

  Labunik greeted Heinrich von Hettenheim genially, but Marek returned the knight’s stare without smiling. He had never heard of their appointed leader, but he knew what he thought of Falko, the man’s cousin, and so could hardly contain his misgivings.

  Nor did Heinrich find it particularly pleasant to entrust himself and his entourage to the Bohemians. But the kaiser’s order didn’t leave him an
y choice, so he simply pointed at the Junker standing behind him. “This is Heribert von Seibelstorff, my second-in-command.”

  Though delighted, Junker Heribert didn’t let on that this was the first time Sir Heinrich had called him by that title, but instead greeted the men with a strong handshake. Relieved that the two German noblemen had greeted them so amiably, Labunik followed Junker Heribert to the accommodation where he and his companions were to stay until their departure.

  Marek slowly strolled after the group, surveying the miserable village and the small, pathetic group of men he was supposed to take to Falkenhain. The whole thing seemed like a bad joke the deposed Bohemian king was playing on his faithful subjects. The only advantage he could see was that it would be easier to smuggle the small group past the Taborite patrols. But only a massive army led by the kaiser could put an end to Little Prokop and his murderous pack and save Falkenhain from certain destruction.

  Heinrich and Marek weren’t the only ones dealing with doubts before their planned departure. Michi was also quite concerned, and he asked Görch where Falkenhain was.

  The squire made a face. “Deep inside Bohemia. If I understood Labunik correctly, it will take us at least two months to get there, if the Hussites don’t cut our throats sooner.”

  Michi looked at him anxiously. “So you think it could get dangerous.”

  “You can say that again. No German army has advanced even half as far into hostile territory since the beginning of the uprising.” Görch was exaggerating dramatically, but Michi believed every word.

  Görch laughed at him. “What is it, my boy? Are you scared?”

  “No, of course not.” Though he was indeed obviously frightened, most of his fear was for Trudi. After Marie’s disappearance, he had helped Eva look after the little girl, whom he saw as his sister, swearing to take her home to his mother in Rheinsobern as soon as he could. Hiltrud would take Trudi in and care for her. But just then, Rheinsobern seemed impossibly far, and he knew that he would never make it there without a purse full of coins. He had hoped to earn enough money to take Trudi home that next autumn by helping out with odd chores, but now it appeared he would be taking her on a journey with no return. He desperately tried to think of another way, as he owed it to Marie and his mother to keep Trudi safe. But since no one at camp could help him, he left the squire and headed for Nuremberg.