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

  Marie tried to calm her down. “Try not to let it bother you. During the day, men are just pests. But at night, you have to watch out for them. Relieve yourself next to the wagon, and don’t venture alone behind a bush or into the forest.”

  As they talked, the women kept themselves busy. They had lifted the kettle and the trivet off the wagon and set them up, and Marie called to one of the soldiers to look for firewood in the forest.

  He snorted contemptuously. “Send your two helpers!”

  “I need them here! You’ll go if you want something to eat tonight.” Marie’s threat worked. Grumbling about finding dry wood that early in the year, he trudged off and returned shortly with a large bundle of usable twigs. Instead of joining his comrades, he stayed and watched with interest how Marie cut chips off one branch, covered them with dry grass from the year before, and struck sparks to light it. When she had a bright little flame going, she looked at him with a smile. “You’ll have to fetch more wood. It’s not enough.”

  Instead of protesting, he took another comrade and made sure the fire soon roared underneath the kettle, so Marie could prepare the evening meal for the group of men assigned to her. As she was filling the bowls, Anni and Helene brought over a small barrel of beer, which was greeted with loud cheers from the soldiers. Finally all settled down with their bowls and cups of beer, sitting on the sheepskins the men had spread on the ground to protect them from the cold and damp. Marie almost felt like she was back with the imperial army. She had spent many similar evenings with Trudi, Eva, Theres, and the others the previous year, passing the time with idle chitchat and waiting for the night. But the sounds around her were foreign, and the aim of that campaign was to plunder and kill her own people.

  As she did every evening when the stress of the day was over, she thought about her daughter and her husband. She sighed, separated herself a little from the others, and leaned her arms on her knees. She missed them both, and desperately clung to her hope that Michel was still alive, even though her conviction that had once been so strong had begun to crumble over the long, miserable winter. Even her nightmares about him were starting to wane. As she became lost in her thoughts, Helene sat down beside her, Anni following close behind. Her foundling leaned her head against Marie’s leg and looked up at her with incredibly sad eyes, but, as usual, she didn’t say a word. Marie smiled at her and stroked her hair. It was good to have someone to take care of, and without Anni and Helene, she probably would have given up hope long ago and ended her life.

  One of the soldiers carried over three cups of beer. “Here you go. You’ve earned it. Dinner was really good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Marie replied with contrived cheerfulness. She took the cups and handed Anni and Helene one each. “To your health,” she said to the soldier. He laughed and went back to his comrades.

  11.

  In the following days, Prokop led his army north on an old but relatively well-maintained trading route. At first, the individual troops marched in well-kept distances from one another and stayed in contact through messengers on horseback. But on the fourth day, the leader sent Ottokar Sokolny’s vanguard ahead to find a way into Saxony, while the main body of the army remained in a small village for a day to rest. When the army marched again, a good two thousand men stayed behind with Vyszo’s group. At first marching closely behind the main body of the army, Vyszo’s men soon turned westward in a different direction.

  Marie was separated from her friends and assigned to a wagon carrying several of Vyszo’s captains. Apparently still under the assumption that Marie didn’t speak any Czech, they spoke freely, though at first their conversation was only about past raids. But Marie suddenly heard one of the men mention a name she recognized. “I only hope there’s much to be gotten at Sokolny’s, since we have to forgo the loot of Silesia because of that traitor.”

  “If we don’t take too long with the fellow, we can still rejoin the campaign,” one of the others replied. “It’s only two days to his castle.”

  A third man scoffed. “I’m looking forward to getting there. I’ve been waiting for a long time to slaughter that pig who betrayed his honor and still kisses his German king’s arse.”

  “Václav Sokolny only managed to hold out this long because the damned Calixtines protected him,” the second man added grimly.

  “First we’ll destroy that louse in his forest castle. Then we’ll get rid of all the nobles who still think they’re above us.”

  The men continued in that vein, describing in detail what they wanted to do with those countrymen they had declared traitors. Marie wished she were back with the simple soldiers, who weren’t as consumed by hatred as their leaders. At the same time she realized that Little Prokop and Vyszo had done everything they could to deceive young Sokolny. They had obviously expected him to find out about the planned attack on his brother, and led him to believe that it wouldn’t happen until later in the year. By the time Ottokar found out what was actually happening, he would be far away in Saxony, unable to help Václav. He himself was also in great danger, since the captains made no secret of the fact that he and his comrades wouldn’t come back alive from this campaign.

  It took Marie a while to understand that she had also become a victim of this change of plan, as Count Sokolny’s castle was tucked so deep in Bohemia that she couldn’t dare flee from there. If she was really unlucky, Vyszo would hunt down Calixtines after the fall of Sokolny’s castle and not leave Bohemia for the whole summer. Marie shuddered, thinking about spending another winter as a Hussite slave under Renata’s thumb. She didn’t think she would survive, as her clothes had become so threadbare, the fabric having disintegrated under the thick yarn she used to darn the tears. She offered up a quick prayer to the Holy Mary Magdalene, asking her to perform a miracle, as it was the only thing that could save her.

  Marie didn’t get a chance to tell her companions about the Taborites’ changed plans until that evening, which they spent in an overgrown spot that must have once been a fertile cleared area. While Anni took the news calmly, Helene struggled with tears. “We’ll die in this damned country!”

  “Quiet! Calm down, or do you want to draw attention to us? Come on, we have to do our work as if nothing had happened.” Marie replied, squeezing her shoulder.

  “You don’t have to lift your skirts for Przybislav night after night,” Helene hissed. “He keeps asking after you, by the way. So watch out, because he won’t be held back by your story about Jan Hus for much longer.”

  That came as no surprise to Marie, but she had hoped to escape before the man’s lust outweighed his fear of the saint’s curse. Now her only choices were to share Helene’s fate or flee alone into the forests and somehow try to make her way west. But with all the two- and four-legged beasts roaming this country, her chances of surviving and finding her way back to the Reich were slim.

  “We can’t let them upset us,” she said to Helene, taking her by the hand and strolling to the wagon while trying to look nonchalant. A good hour later, the stew simmered above the fire, and the soldiers held out their empty bowls one after the other. Even a keen observer watching as she joked and laughed as she served the food wouldn’t have noticed how much strength this fake cheerfulness cost her.

  After dinner, Helene was called to Przybislav’s tent, so Marie and Anni washed the dishes, and when night darkened the sky and the first stars appeared, they lay down underneath their wagon and wrapped themselves in their blankets. Marie had gotten herself an old dagger the previous winter, which she was hiding under her skirt in the place of her old knife. Her fingers now felt for the handle, as if it could give her the courage she needed so badly.

  The next morning, they had their usual breakfast of stale bread, well-spiced blood sausage, and leftovers from the previous night’s stew, but as an exception, each soldier in Vyszo’s group also received a double ration of beer. The next camp was supposed to be in
front of Sokolny’s castle, but the way there led up steep, densely overgrown slopes, then along a ridge with sheer cliffs. The weather changed early that morning, and rain swept over the land in a ceaseless deluge, an enormous strain on man and beast. The soldiers and most of the Czech women had coats or shawls of sheepskin to protect them against the rain, but Marie, Anni, and Helene merely had woolen scarves and were soaked to the skin. In addition, a sharp wind blew from the east, freezing them to the bone. Trembling like a leaf, Helene soon started to cough violently.

  One of the soldiers noticed and approached her. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?” His tone conveyed a fear of disease.

  Marie raised her hands reassuringly. “Jelka just has a little cold. As soon as the sun’s out again, she’ll feel better.” She had chosen the woman’s Czech name for fear the bailiff would otherwise immediately chase Helene away as a German. In her condition, the young woman wouldn’t survive for three days in those woods full of gorges and raging streams.

  “If her illness gets any worse, she’ll have to leave the troops!” Despite his harsh tone, the soldier brought Helene an old sheepskin coat to wrap herself in.

  Przybislav turned up during lunch to order Helene to his tent that night, but he also seemed afraid of infection when he noticed her rasping cough, and he turned to Marie instead. “Well, pretty woman, do you want to earn yourself a few favors?”

  Marie energetically shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to look for another woman.”

  The man grimaced and grabbed her by the chin. “You’re German, aren’t you? You should be a little more accommodating, or I’ll remind myself what we usually do with scum like you!”

  Stiff with fear and rage, Marie managed to grab the fellow’s arm and pull his hand off her face. “If you want your favorite body part to keep working, you’d better be more careful.”

  The man jerked back in shock. “Do you want to curse me, you whore of the devil?”

  Marie laughed. “I have much more powerful protection than witchcraft. You know I was in Constance when Jan Hus was murdered, and that I received his blessing. If you hurt me, I will pray to the great martyr to punish you.” Jan Hus’s name had protected her every time so far, and again it came to her rescue. Przybislav shuddered at her mention of the saint, made the sign of the cross, and uttered a quick prayer before disappearing among the wagons.

  The procession was now moving through foothills that reminded Marie of the Black Forest back home, though the wooded mountains seemed lower and not quite so endless. But dangers also lurked here for careless travelers. The path led between two steep slopes from which raging torrents fell, turning the valley floor into a muddy creek. Since the animals were up to their bellies in cold water, the women had to carry the food and equipment on their backs while the soldiers pushed the carts and hauled them over the deepest parts.

  When they reached dry bush country that evening, they were only a few thousand paces away from their goal. But since it was already getting dark, Vyszo had to stop where they were, much to his annoyance. Marie didn’t pay much attention to the men’s swearing and cursing, as she had to look after Helene, who couldn’t stand on her feet any longer. Collecting some dry birch twigs, she broke them into smaller pieces to make a warmer bed for her friend. Helene wrapped her sheepskin around her, pulled a thin blanket over her head and shoulders, and pushed away Anni’s hand when she offered her a bowl of stew. But Marie took the bowl from Anni and started to feed the sick woman. When the bowl was empty, Marie patted her cheek. “There you go, that wasn’t so bad. You’ll see, having something to fill your stomach will help your lungs, too.”

  Helene grasped her hands and held them. “You’re so kind to me.”

  “You’d do the same for me. Now sleep, so you can get your strength back.” Marie helped wrap her up in the coat and blanket, and returned to the fire where a few soldiers were quietly singing a melancholy song about a pretty girl and a shepherd. Marie got the feeling that more than a few Taborites secretly longed for a peaceful life. But as long as men like Vyszo and Prokop were in charge and the preachers of Tabor called on the Hussites to wage a holy war against the Roman Catholic Church, none of them had a chance of swapping their morning stars for a plow.

  She quickly shook off the thought, as she couldn’t afford to become sentimental. Things were happening that even the kaiser couldn’t handle, and she must look out for herself in order to survive. Abruptly turning away from the singers, she fetched her blanket from the wagon. The wool was damp even though it had been lying under a canvas, and it took a while before she got warm enough to fall asleep.

  That night, she dreamed of Michel for the first time in months. Wrapped up in a wolf-skin coat, he was sitting high in a tower ringed with battlements, gazing at the stars. His face looked sad and lost in the glow of the lantern standing next to him, and she thought she felt his heart calling for her. When she awoke the next morning, she lay still for a while to hold on to the last wisps of her dream. Eventually, Anni tugged at her blanket and pointed to the covered kettle, mouthing the word breakfast in two languages and gesturing vigorously.

  “All right, all right, you little pest!” Marie groaned and sat up, stretching her stiff limbs and yearning for soft feather pillows and a thick horsehair mattress, or at least a sack of straw for the night. She sighed, thinking of the bed she and Michel had shared in Rheinsobern, but just then she longed even more for a large tub of warm water to wash off all the dirt on her body. There were barely any opportunities for luxuries such as washing in the Hussite army, and any woman bathing in a creek was in danger of being accosted by a man. Marie preferred to live with her by now rather pungent smell, which she had in common with Anni, Helene, and most other women, than take the risk. Before serving breakfast, she washed her hands and face in a bucket of water one of the men had brought her. As a reward, his piece of blood sausage was twice as big as the ones for the other men.

  They didn’t break camp until Vyszo’s scouts returned, and then soon after reached the edge of a large clearing. At first they noticed only a few small fields, but then they saw the castle ahead, sitting on the northernmost spur of the Lom. At first glance, the castle looked more picturesque than threatening. Falkenhain had a rather simple layout, which, as far as she knew, hardly existed in the Reich anymore, and an obvious weakness was the lack of outer wards. There was only one courtyard, so once the enemy was through the gate, he could storm the buildings. The walls and watchtower appeared to be in good condition, as was the square great hall in the center of the complex. The castle seemed to have been renovated recently, raising the walls and towers significantly. Work still seemed to be in progress, as there were gaps in the battlements and here and there interior scaffolds were reaching above the wall’s edge.

  The arrival of the Taborite army hadn’t gone unnoticed. Marie saw several people running toward the great gate and disappearing behind it. Then the large metal-studded doors were closed, and soldiers appeared on the battlements.

  “Look at that—Sokolny actually intends to put up a fight!” one of the soldiers sneered, then climbed on top of the wagon, howling as he swung his morning star over his head. In the meantime, Vyszo’s captains and bailiffs fanned out to find the best spots to set up camp. Since they wanted to completely surround the castle, they had to form an impregnable ring of wagons. When they were given the sign to advance, Marie’s driver cracked his whip, directing his horse over the soft ground to the place one of the bailiffs pointed out to him. He jumped off, put on the skids, and unhitched the horse. Wiping her muddy wooden shoes on the grass, Marie then took the cooking utensils off the wagon. Even if the men were busy preparing for the siege, they wouldn’t forget to eat.

  12.

  There wasn’t a single man or woman in Sir Heinrich’s group who didn’t wish Marek Lasicek to hell. The Czech was leading them east on paths that looked more like goat trails, and he often seem
ed to be randomly taking them through the most impassable parts of the forest he could find. Time and time again they had to clear the path of fallen trees, trembling with fear that Hussite patrols might hear their axes, but miraculously they didn’t meet anyone. But that proved small consolation, as the undergrowth they had to make their way through seemed to consist of nothing but prickles and thorns.

  The group had left Nuremberg with a hundred seventy men, as another sixty foot soldiers had been sent by the kaiser’s commanders to join Heinrich’s palatine army and Sprüngli’s Swiss. At first, Sir Heinrich had been glad to have the reinforcements, but after only one day, he had begun to curse them, as he had clearly been sent the biggest troublemakers in the entire imperial army.

  Some of them had disappeared after only a few days, which relieved the leaders. The only one annoyed by the desertions was Theres, as she had given two of them food and new shirts on credit. After that, she made the remaining soldiers pay first before she handed over her goods, though this didn’t dissuade future men from deserting—they just bought what they needed to survive in the forest before leaving.