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

by Iny Lorentz

  Still trembling with shock, Reimo slapped his chest as if assuming blame for all that had happened. “I’ve been staying here not so much for your sake, Franz, but because I’m scared to take my family into the unknown. Somehow I still hoped we could stay here, waiting until the war is over and then moving back to our village. But now we have to leave this place as quickly as possible.” With these words, he pointed to the three bodies that Zdenka and Vúlko were undressing.

  The woman looked up at Michel with a bitter smile. “Usually I don’t steal from the dead, but we need their things if we want to get through the winter. When Reimo found you, you were naked and he had to share his clothes with you.”

  Michel nodded. “I understand. But wash everything before we wear it. I wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise.” He glanced again at the bodies. “Should we just leave them here or bury them?”

  “They were our neighbors, after all,” Reimo said thoughtfully, scratching his neck. “If we ever want to live with our people again, we shouldn’t throw them to the wolves and bears.”

  “Then Vúlko should do it. He led them here, after all,” his wife snapped. The look she gave her cousin showed him she wouldn’t forgive his betrayal any time soon.

  “But there was nothing I could do,” he started whining again, his face turning dark with shame. “They were going to”—he faltered for a moment and struggled to compose himself before continuing—“violate my wife and me in front of our children and then continue with them.”

  “What filthy pigs!” Michel burst out.

  Reimo shook his head sadly. “War brutalizes people. Don’t think that ours are much different.”

  “I didn’t say the Germans were better!” Michel replied sharply. “But now it’s our lives in the balance. Do you really believe we can make it to Falkenhain Castle? And what do we do with Vúlko?”

  Helplessly, Reimo raised his hands. “We can’t let him go home. People would ask him what happened to the men, forcing him to tell them where we were headed, and then the friends of the slain men would follow us to take revenge.”

  Vúlko let out a cry. “Please let me go! I promise I won’t betray you.”

  “You already have! You’ll have to come with us. Try to run, and you’ll end up like your friends over there!” The expression on Michel’s face would have intimidated a much braver man than Vúlko, who stared at him, terrified, as if he thought the German was going kill him right then. He only dared breathe again when Reimo handed him a primitive wooden spade and ordered him to dig a grave for the three dead men.

  “We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Reimo declared, casting a questioning glance at Michel as though asking his approval.

  6.

  Kunigunde von Banzenburg feasted her eyes on Sobernburg Castle’s full chests and cupboards, which were overflowing with abundance. There were enough sheets and comforters to accommodate the count palatine’s entire court, as well as plenty of clay crockery and pewter and silver platters and plates. The pantries were full of hams and smoked sausages dangling from half a dozen long poles, and it would have taken a whole day to count the barrels in the cellar full of superb wine.

  Marga, who was accompanying Lady Kunigunde on her tour of her new realm, noticed with satisfaction how markedly the lady was impressed. For someone who had spent her entire life in a crowded castle inhabited by several families, Rheinsobern must have seemed like paradise.

  “As you can see, I’ve made a great effort gathering all these provisions,” Marga proudly explained, conveniently forgetting that everything was paid for with Marie’s money. Moving closer to her new mistress, she tugged at her sleeve. “Dear Lady Kunigunde, you have no idea how glad I am to again serve a lady of noble lineage instead of a hussy like that Marie.”

  The contempt in Marga’s voice made Kunigunde prick up her ears. “Isn’t Marie of noble birth? She’s not from a burgher family or even from peasants, is she?”

  Marga gave a short laugh. “If only it was that! Before her marriage, she was a traveling whore selling herself for a few lousy pennies.”

  “You don’t say!” Lady Kunigunde was incredulous, but Marga assured her she was speaking the truth.

  “Plus, her husband was only a common innkeeper’s son. He ingratiated himself with the count palatine during the Council of Constance and was appointed castellan, but despite their elevation in rank, they were still scum, and I was disgusted at having to serve such people.”

  Initially confused, Kunigunde soon composed her thoughts, plotting how to use the information to her advantage. She would have liked nothing better than to chase Marie out of town without a penny and confiscate her property; unfortunately, however, she couldn’t take such drastic measures, because for some unknown reason the woman stood high in the count palatine’s favor.

  Even though it pained her to suggest a marriage between her cousin and Marie after hearing this scandalous news, it still seemed the best way to seize the woman’s property. She was now convinced Marie wouldn’t offer much resistance, because as a former prostitute, the widow should be glad if a man of rank lowered himself to wed her.

  “Do you have any further orders for me, Lady Kunigunde?” Marga asked submissively.

  Lady Kunigunde shook her head. “You can go to the kitchen and check if the dinner I ordered will be ready on time.” Waving her hand as if swatting at an annoying insect, the lady hurried away, skirts flying. Marga wanted desperately to know what her mistress was planning and considered following her under some pretext. But since she depended on Lady Kunigunde’s favor, the housekeeper sighed and went to do as she was asked.

  In the meantime, Lady Kunigunde had reached Marie’s chamber and burst in without knocking. Marie was sitting by the window, sewing a changing pillow for her soon-to-be-born child. She glanced up from her work with annoyance when she saw Lady Kunigunde invading her privacy. “How can I help you?”

  “I need to talk to you.” Kunigunde pulled up a chair next to Marie and sat down. Her eyes skimmed the chamber’s furnishings, and what she saw charmed her more than anything else she’d seen in the castle so far. It had to be such pleasure to live here. Immediately pushing aside the thought, she pretended to be concerned. “As you know, my husband has been given responsibility for you by the count palatine.”

  Irritated, Marie shook her head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You are now my husband’s ward, and what he says, happens.”

  Marie gave a short laugh in response. “You’re wrong. The count palatine is my guardian after my husband’s death.”

  The confident serenity Marie radiated angered Lady Kunigunde, and she pounded her thigh with a clenched fist. “And he gave this responsibility to my husband, whose will it is that such a beautiful woman . . .” At this, she sighed jealously and had to take a deep breath before continuing. “Well, it’s my husband’s opinion that it isn’t appropriate to keep a young widow in our house.”

  Marie shrugged. “So I have to leave the castle. All right, I’ll go.”

  Angrily, Lady Kunigunde glared at her. “You’re not listening properly, woman! My husband wants you to marry my cousin Götz von Perchtenstein. And that’s that!” It wasn’t exactly the speech Lady Kunigunde had imagined, but Marie’s composure had thrown her.

  The young widow gazed back mockingly. “You must have gone insane!”

  Jumping to her feet in rage, Lady Kunigunde grabbed Marie’s shoulders. “You won’t defy me for long! Either you do as I say, or else . . .”

  Marie freed herself from Kunigunde’s grasp and pushed her hands away. “Or else what?”

  Lady Kunigunde wanted nothing more than to have her husband give Marie a good beating, until she did as she was told and married Götz. But if the woman managed to complain to the count palatine, they’d be in trouble. Therefore, she had to use other means to put this stubborn harlot in her plac
e. Kunigunde spun around and admired the chamber’s furnishings once more. And in that moment she knew what to do.

  “Since my husband is the new captain of the castle, the lady’s chamber should be mine. Why should I stay in a cold, drafty chamber while a harlot like you makes herself at home in my rooms?”

  The words were like a slap to Marie’s cheek, and she struggled for an answer. One look at Kunigunde’s livid, flushed face told her that fighting wouldn’t get her anywhere, however, and she just shrugged. “Since it is your wish, I will have the chamber cleared of my things so you can bring your furniture and chests.”

  Lady Kunigunde stared at her in confusion. “What furniture and chests? I don’t have any such things.”

  “Then you’ll have to get some. These furnishings belong to me and were paid for with my money. I’m not planning on leaving them for you.”

  Before Lady Kunigunde could reply, Marie went to the door and called for her handmaid. When Ischi entered a moment later, Marie asked her to fetch a few servants to empty the room.

  “I forbid you to do that!” Lady Kunigunde shouted furiously.

  Marie turned to her with an icy expression. “You can’t forbid her anything. Ischi is my maid, and the servants, too, have received their year’s wages from me. They will do as I say until Candlemas, and it’s merely a courtesy of mine to allow them to work for you now.”

  Refusing to give up, Kunigunde rushed into the hall and called for Marga, her voice cracking with anger. “Which is the most miserable chamber in the entire castle?” she asked as the frightened housekeeper came running. “Make sure that this despicable whore gets put there. She doesn’t deserve anything more.”

  Marga’s eyes brightened upon hearing the order. A smile spread over her face, and she answered Lady Kunigunde’s orders by nodding eagerly. “You can rely on me, mistress. I will find a suitable chamber for this harlot.”

  7.

  Marie stood looking out the window of the tiny garret where she now lived, reachable only by several narrow, steep staircases. The one advantage of her cold, drafty room was the view all the way to the Black Forest and the Vosges, and from her vantage point, she could see the blue ribbon of the Rhine River rolling sluggishly northward in the pale light of the winter sun. There was no snow on the ground yet, but the biting wind made her shiver.

  Quickly closing the window, she covered it with an old coat to block the icy wind from gusting into her room through the ripped piece of scraped animal hide that was there in place of glass. It would have taken barely half an hour to fix the window, but none of the servants dared do anything for her anymore because they feared Sir Manfred’s threats. A few weeks ago, when the men had carried Marie’s chests and furniture up to the tower attic where she had been forced to move, the castellan had watched the men like a hawk, threatening to dismiss anyone who further lifted a finger to help Marie. Some of them might have stood by their former mistress anyway, but Marga had made an example of one maid who dared to smuggle food to Marie. She had beaten the poor girl black and blue with her rod and then chased her into the cold wearing nothing but a thin shirt. Marie could only hope that Hedwig or Hiltrud had taken care of the girl. The only servant Marie could rely on anymore was Ischi, who would be leaving Sobernburg Castle in the spring and therefore wasn’t afraid of Marga. Indeed, her handmaid defied the new masters, doing everything possible to make Marie’s life bearable given the difficult circumstances.

  After banishing Marie to this tiny garret, Lady Kunigunde had then seized anything Marie hadn’t been able to secure. As a result, Sir Manfred, his eldest sons, and Perchtenstein now wore Michel’s clothes. Sir Götz’s trousers flapped loosely around his legs, and his skinny chest could have fitted twice into Michel’s jerkin, but he wore the warm, elegant fabrics with ridiculous pride. The new castellan also claimed the expensive provisions and delicacies Marie had purchased as well as the wine cellar, filled almost entirely with barrels from Marie’s own vineyards.

  While Lady Kunigunde and her family were feasting on Marie’s ham, sausages, and wine, she had to content herself with the simple food from the servants’ kitchen that Ischi brought up to her. Marie knew that a single word would change her situation, but she wasn’t prepared to give in. She could imagine what would happen to her lands and her other possessions once Sir Götz laid his hands on them. And even if Perchtenstein had been the kindest man in the world, Marie wouldn’t have married him so soon after receiving the news of Michel’s death. She still didn’t feel like a widow, perhaps because of their child growing inside her, giving her the illusion that in some way Michel was still with her and making it almost impossible to believe the news of his death.

  For a time she was tormented by the certainty that she was lost without Michel, and she wasted her time hoping for him to come back and rescue her from her miserable situation. Then she shook herself sternly. Unlike so many other women, she had never accepted her fate without a fight, and she wasn’t going to give up this time, either.

  One afternoon, about to call for Ischi to fetch a spill from the kitchen to light the tallow candle, she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. It didn’t sound like her housemaid, so she reached for the dagger she kept in case she needed to fend off unwanted advances. As soon as the shadow entered her chamber, however, she put down her weapon and happily greeted Hiltrud. “By God, Marie, it’s as dark as a church at midnight in here,” her friend responded.

  Marie pointed to the window. “The covering was torn, so I plugged up the hole with my coat to stop the wind from blowing in.”

  “There’s still a draft,” Hiltrud replied with concern, quickly crossing over to the window and pulling down the coat. “Now I can see you properly. I heard of Michel’s death and came to console you and keep you company, but it looks like you need help of a different kind.”

  Marie waved her fist in the air. “I’m not as helpless as I look. All I need is a messenger who’s not afraid to approach the count palatine on my behalf, because I don’t think Lord Ludwig will like how his new castellan behaves toward me.”

  Hiltrud had a different opinion of the mighty lord, but she didn’t want to worry Marie even more. “My Thomas will travel to the count and present your complaint.”

  “That would be very kind! Wait, I’ll write a quick letter to let Lord Ludwig know how shamelessly I’ve been treated.” Marie searched the little chest next to her narrow bed for paper, ink, and a quill pen, writing her letter with numb fingers that she had to breathe on repeatedly to keep from freezing.

  “Very well, now my signature and seal and we’re done.” She folded the piece of paper, picked up the sealing wax, then called through the open door. “Ischi, please run and fetch a spill for me—I want to light the lamp!”

  Her words echoed down the tower and through the attic below, and the young maid soon turned up with a small burning chip that she touched to the tallow candle just in time. The wick caught fire, flickering in the draft, and Marie trickled some sealing wax onto the paper.

  After pressing her signet ring into the wax, she handed the letter to her friend. “Please hide this when you leave the castle so Lady Kunigunde doesn’t find it.”

  Hiltrud clenched her fists. “Just let her try to get close to me!”

  Marie nodded gratefully, then stopped and thought for a moment. “Do you think you could smuggle out a few other things for me? I’d like to know that my title deeds and my most precious jewelry are in a safe place.”

  “Of course!” Hiltrud replied.

  Marie retrieved a bundle and a leather pouch from a small box she kept under the bed. “Can you get all this out of the castle without it being discovered?” she asked uncertainly.

  “I’ll put it where no man dares touch me or else he’ll get a slap in the face that will make his head spin.” Hiltrud winked at her conspiratorially, then pulled up her skirt and patted her lower belly. “You must have fo
rgotten what you learned in our wandering years, Marie, and how you smuggled the evidence against Keilburg to the Count of Württemberg.” Giggling at the memory, she remembered that Marie had only recently become a widow and became quiet with embarrassment.

  “I’ll be visiting often throughout the winter. I’ll bring a sausage or some ham. Not even you can live on that porridge, not to mention your child.” She pointed to the bowl Ischi had brought up and placed on the wobbly stool that served as a table.

  “Yes, please do.” Marie suddenly felt a ravishing appetite for one of Hiltrud’s excellent smoked sausages, and she desperately wanted to return with her friend to the goat farm. Kunigunde had warned her more than once, however, about what would happen to her if she tried to leave the castle without permission, and she was worried they might find the documents and jewelry on Hiltrud during the unavoidable confrontation.

  “Come, Hiltrud. Sit down and let’s talk about better times.” Marie moved aside to make room for her friend.

  Hiltrud stayed with Marie for several hours, consoling her as best she could. She didn’t leave Marie until the new captain and his family were sitting at the dinner table and Hiltrud was safe from being questioned and examined. As she descended the steep stairs in the gloomy light, Hiltrud quietly cursed the riffraff making itself at home here. She would have liked to storm into the hall, giving Kunigunde and her pathetic-looking husband a piece of her mind, but the favor Marie had asked of her took precedence, so instead she hurried down and through the castle gate. Once outside, she gave a sigh of relief and adjusted the bundle pressing against her thigh. Then she walked into the falling night with flying skirts, unafraid of robbers or wild animals, secure with her sharply pointed walking stick by her side. Anyway, she was sure Thomas would come meet her soon.