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

by Iny Lorentz

  Sir Heinrich seemed no less impatient than she was. “If nothing happens and we continue making the same progress, we’ll be there five days from now.”

  8.

  Two days later, a knight and his squire came riding toward the procession. Sir Heinrich ordered his men to keep going, beckoning the new arrival over. The man, who looked barely over eighteen, reined in his horse and greeted him politely.

  “May God be with you, noble lord. Would it be possible for my squire and me to join you?”

  “Do you want to accompany us to Nuremberg or become part of my group?”

  The young knight’s face darkened. “Just to Nuremberg for a start. I can decide where to go from there.”

  Sir Heinrich gave him a friendly nod. “It’s only two or three days to our destination, and until then, you’re welcome as a travel companion.”

  “I thank you. My name is Heribert von Seibelstorff, son of Sir Heribald, and I’ve set out to restore the glory of my house.” Though his speech was pompous, it was typical of a young man of his age.

  Sir Heinrich placed his right hand on his chest. “Welcome, Junker Heribert. My name is Heinrich von Hettenheim.”

  At this introduction, the young knight pulled so sharply on his reins that his brown stallion sidled nervously. “I can’t say that I particularly like the name Hettenheim, because a man of that family has brought shame upon my house,” he explained bluntly, fidgeting as if he wanted to challenge the older knight to a duel on the spot.

  Sir Heinrich waved dismissively and gave an annoyed laugh. “I have had nothing to do with your family so far. You must be talking about my cousin Falko von Hettenheim, who is definitely capable of a deed like that. Let me assure you that we’re anything but friends.”

  “Then you must be the man who will be his heir if fate doesn’t grant Falko any legitimate sons. I have already heard of you.”

  Heinrich von Hettenheim bit his lip and searched for a reply as the procession came to a halt behind them. Climbing down from her wagon, Black Eva approached the young knight curiously. Heribert instinctively backed away from the ugly old woman, staring at her with disgust. Eva ignored his defensive posture and tugged at his stirrup.

  “You said you were Sir Heribald’s son? I have traveled with your father many times, and I’m surprised he isn’t personally seeking revenge.”

  “I’m sure he would if he were still alive. But after being taken back to our castle badly injured, he died there following several months of illness, and others belittled his glory at the kaiser’s court to elevate their own.” Junker Heribert had spoken passionately, but he suddenly realized that he had answered to a simple merchant woman. With an annoyed snort, he steered his horse past Eva without so much as another glance. The woman’s eyes followed him with an almost compassionate smile. Then she returned to her comrades, who were also climbing down from their wagons.

  “We have received reinforcements,” she explained with a smirk, “if that’s what you call a child like Heribert von Seibelstorff. Imagine, that Junker wanted to fight our good Heinrich, just because he’s a Hettenheim.”

  The other women laughed, but Marie stood stock-still. “Who has come, a Seibelstorff knight?”

  “Yes, old Heribald’s son. His father was an old curmudgeon, though not really the brightest. But he would have let himself get cut to pieces for his men anytime.” Pinching together her lips, Eva shrugged. “And according to his son, that’s exactly what happened.”

  Since the procession had started to move again, the women hurried back to their wagons and took up their reins. After prodding her oxen along, Marie stared into the distance, her thoughts swirling around in her head. She knew the name Heribald von Seibelstorff all too well, because Michel supposedly died under his command. Up ahead, young Heribert was taking his place in the procession with his squire. She yearned to know why he hated the name Hettenheim so much, since his behavior seemed to confirm the report of the Frankish knight whose version of the battles in Bohemia had been met at court with resentment by the palatine nobles. She decided to question Sir Heribert that evening.

  The hours seemed to creep by more slowly than usual. Marie was irritated by the buzzing of every fly, and for the first time, even Trudi’s cheerful chatter annoyed her. When she could no longer bear it, she handed the girl to Michi and told him to feed her some porridge, but he soon sneaked away to let Anselm show him how to handle a pike.

  Marie briefly considered leaving her daughter with one of the other merchant women, but they were rushing back and forth between their wagons and the fire to prepare dinner, and didn’t have time to look after a child. So she picked up Trudi and walked over to Heribert von Seibelstorff’s tent. She had gotten so used to the admiring looks she received when she walked through the camp that she hardly noticed them anymore. Most men respected her, and some of them were even rather shy around her, because she was the most beautiful woman in the group.

  As Marie approached Heribert von Seibelstorff, the young knight was glumly sitting in front of his simple tent, and his squire was trying for the third time to call his attention to the plate of bratwursts being held out to him. The smell of the sausages awoke Marie’s hunger and gave her an opening for her conversation with the Junker.

  She stepped in front of him with a smile. “Good evening, sir. I see you have some bratwursts among your provisions. Since they won’t keep for very long, I’d like to buy some from you. I can pay with silver or a few cups of wine.”

  Erupting in anger and about to send Marie away, Heribert von Seibelstorff immediately stopped his tirade when he glanced up and saw her standing before him. He had never beheld anything lovelier than this woman with the child in her arms. Leaping to his feet without paying any attention to his plate that slid to the ground, spilling the bratwursts onto the grass, he gazed at her. “Who are you, beautiful woman?”

  Surprised by his intense reaction, Marie took a step back. “My name is Marie, and I’m an itinerant merchant.”

  “Marie? Like the Holy Virgin, the Mother of God!”

  “Except I’m missing the y at the end of my name to make me a proper Mary.” Marie had dealt with Michel’s younger followers often enough to know that a cheerful word or a joke at the right moment could help put them at ease. And indeed, a boyish smile spread over Heribert’s face, and he remembered her question.

  “Görch, bring four of the best bratwursts we have,” he ordered his servant. The squire looked sadly at the sausages lying on the grill in front of him, which were supposed to be his. Sighing, he placed them on a board and took them to Heribert, who handed them to Marie.

  “I thank you, sir. If these bratwursts taste as good as they smell, then I’ve never had better ones.”

  Her praise flattered Görch, and he smiled at her with pride. “There are no better bratwursts than ours.”

  Setting Trudi down, Marie started to eat with relish. The servant hadn’t lied. Not even Hiltrud made sausages as good as these, and she had become a master of the craft. “Thank you,” Marie said to the Junker when she’d finished her first sausage. Then she smiled at the squire.

  “A good deed is worth its reward. Tonight, you and your master can have as much of my wine as you like.”

  Heribert politely demurred. “One cup for my squire and one for me is enough, or my Görch just gets drunk and is of no use for anything the next day. And please tell the other merchant women not to give Görch more wine than he needs.”

  Noticing that he spoke to her like a lady of rank, Marie wondered if she had somehow given herself away. She hoped that no one else noticed his respectful address, or just thought it was the exaggeration of an easily aroused young man—which it probably was. With a friendly wave, Heribert invited Marie to take a seat on the tree stump alongside him.

  Marie was glad she didn’t need another excuse to start a conversation with him. Leaving some distan
ce between them as she sat down, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His initial unease seemed to return, because he swallowed several times as if about to speak, then eventually stretched out his arms to Trudi, who was running around with astonishing agility for her age. To Marie’s surprise, her daughter walked toward the Junker and let him pick her up.

  “She reminds me of my little sister,” Heribert said with a smile. His servant stared at him in confusion.

  “But, sir, Fräulein Hella is already twelve years old.”

  “But it wasn’t so long ago that she looked just like this little one. What’s your name?” Heribert asked, gently holding the girl up to his face.

  “Udi,” she replied without a hint of shyness.

  “Trudi, or Hiltrud, actually,” Marie added.

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful child,” the young knight said, while giving Marie a look that made it clear whom he found the lovelier.

  “She is seventeen months old and quite big for her age,” Marie told them proudly.

  “Didn’t you say something about a cup of wine before, Frau Marie?” Görch begged before his master could reply.

  She nodded and got to her feet. “And I will keep my promise. May I leave Trudi in your care while I fetch the wine, sir?”

  At first startled by the question, Heribert then smiled with delight. “Gladly, my lady.”

  He was happy that Marie entrusted her daughter to him, because that meant she had to come back and keep him company for a while longer. He already longed to see her again and hear her voice, which sounded to him as sweet as the voice of an angel.

  Marie soon returned with three cups and a jug of wine. “Your bratwursts make one thirsty,” she explained with a laugh.

  “You are right!” Görch exclaimed, quickly grabbing the largest cup for himself and sitting on the ground near them. Since Marie only sipped her wine and Sir Heribert didn’t drink much, either, the squire didn’t go thirsty that night. Conversation flowed easily, and Marie barely had to ask any questions before both the Junker and his servant were vying to tell her the story of the Seibelstorff family, from its steady rise to its sudden fall through no fault of its own.

  “We have suffered disfavor with the kaiser, and it’s the fault of this Falko von Hettenheim,” the Junker explained grimly. “My father always stood by him and covered his mistakes, because he hoped to make a strong leader of him. And how did this dishonorable man repay him? When my father was ill and defenseless, Falko completely twisted the stories about his campaign, blaming my father for Falko’s own mistakes and slandering him until the kaiser relieved him of his duties. My father’s death was caused more by humiliation than by his injuries, and that’s why I will join the army and confront Hettenheim and challenge him to a duel.”

  Marie carefully steered the conversation away from his angry tirade. “Your father must have had other knights besides Falko under his command. Have you ever heard the name Michel Adler?”

  “Oh yes, I remember the name well. He was a Palatinate like Hettenheim, but a brave one. On his deathbed, my father regretted having listened to Falko and ignoring Adler’s good advice.”

  “Sir Heribald always said that things would have turned out better with Adler by his side,” Görch added.

  “I wonder what happened to this Michel Adler,” Marie continued.

  “He supposedly died during a skirmish with the Hussites, or at least that’s what Falko von Hettenheim said. He was the leader of Adler’s group and fell into a Bohemian ambush. Later, one of the survivors was struck by an ax and confessed to my father just before he died that Hettenheim had left Michel Adler behind severely injured.”

  That was exactly what Marie had suspected all along. Falko von Hettenheim had betrayed her husband, and if he was dead, it was as much Falko’s fault as if he had slain him with his own hands. But she wasn’t ready to give up hope yet.

  “Could Michel Adler still be alive, either as a Hussite prisoner or as a refugee in the Bohemian Forest?”

  Heribert shook his head. “The Hussites don’t take prisoners. What my father told me about their cruelty is enough to strike terror into the hearts of the toughest men. And even if Adler, despite his injuries, had managed to escape the rebels and survive in the forest, he would have died during the winter, when the east wind howls through the mountains, burying everything under snow and ice.” He frowned and looked closely at Marie. “Why are you so interested in Adler? Did you know him?”

  Marie decided to tell at least part of the truth. “I know him from my childhood, because we’re from the same city.”

  “Then remember him as a hero. With his courage and prudence, he not only saved my father’s life, but also that of the kaiser and many brave knights.” Heribert’s eyes shone in his admiration for Michel.

  His words briefly filled her with joy, but then pain and desperation washed over her, threatening to drag her down as she realized that nothing in Heribert’s account suggested that Michel might have survived. Nevertheless, she would continue her search and keep asking around until she was absolutely sure of what happened. But her current task at hand was to help the Junker. As much as she hated Falko von Hettenheim and cursed him for knowingly leaving Michel behind, she didn’t want a duel between him and the young Seibelstorff, which the inexperienced youth wouldn’t survive.

  “I don’t think it’s very wise to challenge Falko von Hettenheim just yet,” she began cautiously. “Even if you and I know it’s unfounded, he does have a favorable reputation. Why don’t you first win your spurs in the fight against the Hussites and restore honor to your name. Then I’m sure you’ll find an opportunity to tear the mask of falsehood off Sir Falko’s face before cutting him down.”

  Heinrich von Hettenheim, who had spotted the small group and come closer, put his hand on Heribert von Seibelstorff’s shoulder at Marie’s words and nodded gravely. “Marie is right. Don’t pick a fight with my cousin before you’ve gained more experience. He doesn’t fight honorably, and he has many tricks up his sleeve to help him win.”

  Young Seibelstorff shook off Heinrich’s hand and shot to his feet. “I’m not afraid of Sir Falko.”

  “Of course not, because unlike him, you’re a brave man with his heart in the right place, but wait until you’ve learned even more skills in battle before facing my cousin.”

  Though Marie was glad that Heinrich von Hettenheim was backing her up, one glance at Heribert’s tense face told her that the young man was so consumed by his need for revenge that he probably wouldn’t listen to any argument. She left the two knights to their conversation and went back with Trudi to join the other merchant women.

  As she was sitting by the fire, she began to realize how naive she had been when she started this journey. She had truly believed she only had to make it to Nuremberg without being recognized to find someone who could point her in Michel’s direction. But it was slowly becoming evident that the circumstances surrounding his disappearance were a lot more confusing than she could have imagined, and she realized that she might have to spend months traveling with the troops before finding out the truth.

  9.

  The soldiers were being kept away from Nuremberg as they had been in Wimpfen. The city walls were still two hours ahead of them when the imperial provost marshal Gisbert Pauer greeted the group in the name of Kaiser Sigismund and had his guards show them to the camp, situated in an open pine forest where more than a thousand knights and soldiers were already installed. While the new arrivals were arranging their wagons in a protective group and pitching their tents, a lively conversation ensued between Sir Heinrich and Pauer. Curious, Marie drove her wagon to her assigned spot, jumped down, picked up Trudi, and asked Michi to take care of the rest. But as she walked over to listen to the men, the provost marshal was saying good-bye and preparing to leave. Marie was about to turn around with disappointment, when Heribert von Seibels
torff stepped in front of Pauer.

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I am Heribert von Seibelstorff, son of Sir Heribald. I want to join the imperial troops and would like to know what instructions you have for me.”

  Pauer gave the young knight a skeptical look, clearly not considering him a noteworthy reinforcement. “Just stay with Sir Heinrich’s men for now,” he responded coolly.

  The young knight had obviously expected a different reaction, because his face abruptly darkened, and he retreated to his tent, hunched over and moving stiffly. As Marie headed back to her wagon, she passed a group of foot soldiers talking about the war against the Hussites in an unfamiliar dialect. According to them, the Bohemian rebels paid no heed to the changing seasons, but continued to fight throughout the year. The previous winter, they had annihilated Austrian troops, devastating the surrounding land. One of the soldiers replied that he hoped the enemy might leave Franconia and the Upper Palatinate alone that summer, so they wouldn’t have to go fight them. Marie shuddered as his comrades vigorously agreed.

  Deep in thought, she joined her friends cooking dinner around the campfire. Eva looked up when Marie approached, and pointed to her wagon. “You should look after your things a little better. There are more thieves in this camp than warts on my face. If you don’t watch out, your barrels of wine will grow feet.”

  Marie had stored her goods as best she could in chests and boxes or tied them into bales, and she had hidden her gold well. Nevertheless, she thanked Eva for the advice and climbed onto her wagon. There wasn’t much for her to do. She tightened the canvas and tied it with a second set of leather straps. Then climbing back down, she pulled closed the front curtain decorated with small bells to warn her of thieves. As she sat with the other merchant women, joining their conversation, Marie pretended to be carefree. Theres lured Trudi over and fed her a piece of ham. The little girl took the meat hesitantly at first, then chewed it with enthusiasm.