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

by Iny Lorentz

  “His enemies are Hettenheim and . . . you mentioned a man called Losen?”

  “Gunter von Losen is a Frankish knight who joined us on the march from Rheinsobern and immediately bonded with Falko von Hettenheim. He tried to disparage Sir Michel, but he picked on the wrong man. And those two, of all people, were the men your husband had to ride into battle with.” Timo finished the rest of his wine and pointed to the tournament site, where the jousting had continued. “We should return if we still want to see something, mistress.”

  Marie had completely forgotten the tournament while listening to Timo. He had strengthened her resolve, and most of all, had given her a reason why Michel couldn’t return to her. Suddenly she turned to the servant. “Do you know when the kaiser plans to attack the Hussites? We only hear rumors in the camp.”

  “I don’t know any more than you, my lady. Why do you ask?”

  “I will continue to search for Michel—deep in Bohemia if I must, but I can’t travel there on my own.”

  Timo crossed himself in fright. “You need to forget that idea immediately, mistress! It’s far too dangerous, whether you join the troops or go on foot.”

  Marie shook her head so hard that her blond braids came loose and swirled around her face. “As long as I still believe that Michel is alive, I will do anything to find him.”

  “Let’s talk about it later. We should go back and watch the rest of the tournament. Though perhaps we could take another jug of this excellent wine along with us.” Trying to distract Marie from her dangerous plan, Timo breathed a sigh of relief when she nodded indifferently. Maybe, he thought, she hadn’t really been serious about the journey to Bohemia.

  Marie had the jugs filled with wine and water, then returned to the arena with Timo and Trudi. The ranks of the knights had thinned out significantly. Many of the defeated were lying injured in the tents, where army surgeons treated their wounds and broken bones, and the bodies of dead horses on the side of the field attested to the brutality of the competition. Marie thought it was an odd way to prepare soldiers for battle. Far too many were injured, and if the kaiser waited until they were all fit again, there wouldn’t be any campaign this year.

  Since there was a break in the action, Marie and Timo walked across the field under the threatening glares of the tournament guards and sat down on the grass in front of the other spectators, who made room for them. Marie put Trudi on her lap, glanced around, and noticed that the man who had cheered for Falko was standing right next to her. His broad face beamed with joy, sweat, and most likely too much wine, and he leered at Marie.

  “Loosen your skirts, woman. There are only eight knights left in the tournament, and Sir Falko is among them. If he wins, the two of us will have some fun.”

  “You’re dreaming. Your paltry shillings are too cheap for me.”

  “I’ll place ten guilders on Sir Falko!” The man was clearly certain that Hettenheim was going to win.

  Marie sneered and held out her hand. “You say you have ten guilders? I’ll believe it when I see them.”

  The man’s face turned red, but after a brief hesitation he pulled out a leather purse from under his jerkin and counted out the guilders into Marie’s hand. Before he could take them back, Black Eva grabbed the coins and hid them behind her back.

  “Hey, what are you doing? Give me back my money, woman!” He tried to wrest the coins from her hand, but she called to the surrounding spectators for help.

  “It’s a bet, so it’s important that everything be done properly, right?”

  Several men muttered their agreement. “If Sir Falko wins, the man gets his guilders back and can take my friend into the bushes. But if Hettenheim loses, he leaves without his money.”

  “That’s fair,” one of the men agreed with Eva. Marie’s opponent snorted with annoyance, then quickly grinned as if imagining his prize.

  Marie turned her back to him and hissed angrily at Eva. “I don’t like people making decisions about me like that. If that damned Falko actually wins, God forbid, then you can give yourself to that man.”

  “I don’t think he’ll agree to that,” Eva snickered. “But in any case, he hasn’t won yet. Look, they’re starting again.”

  Marie saw the remaining eight knights lining up, and, to her delight, Heinrich von Hettenheim was among them as was young Seibelstorff. Along with two other knights, they faced Sir Falko and his companions. Timo tapped her on the shoulder and pointed excitedly at the knight next to Falko.

  “The fellow in the blue and red armor is Gunter von Losen.”

  Marie examined the knight. Losen wasn’t armored as splendidly as Falko, but with the tall plume of feathers atop his helmet and his red shield decorated with three golden stars, he looked like a peacock compared to the opposing knights. The Frankish knight, whom Marie judged an experienced warrior despite his flamboyant attire, would encounter the ill-equipped Heribert von Seibelstorff, while the two Hettenheimers would ride against different opponents.

  At a signal from the kaiser, the herald raised his stick, a flourish of trumpets echoed across the field, and the knights spurred their horses. They were raising less dust now, so the spectators could see exactly what was happening. Lances splintered loudly, and horses fell to their knees on both sides. To Marie’s disappointment, Falko stayed in his saddle while his opponent was thrown to the ground. But Heinrich von Hettenheim also remained solidly mounted, while Heribert von Seibelstorff swayed perilously and struggled to keep from falling. Losen, however, who had lost his lance and a stirrup, tipped over in his heavy armor and crashed to the ground.

  Marie broke out in a cheer while the other bettor’s grin widened. Raising a jug of wine to his lips, he drank so eagerly that the wine dribbled out the corners of his mouth and ran down his neck. If Falko von Hettenheim won this tournament, Marie could only hope that the fellow would be too drunk to perform, because she would rather kill him than give herself to him.

  Out on the jousting field, the remaining knights removed their helmets and wiped the sweat from their brows with cloths their squires handed them. Sizing up his next opponent, Heinrich von Hettenheim looked at Junker Heribert, readying himself to face his cousin. The young man didn’t stand a chance against Sir Falko. Turning to the Junker, Heinrich gave him an appreciative nod. “You have fought bravely and toppled Losen, but you should now step aside and leave my cousin to me.”

  Junker Heribert indignantly put his helmet back on without saying a word and steered his horse to the end of the lists facing Sir Falko. Shrugging, Heinrich focused on the Burgundian knight at the opposite end of the lists. He was one of those men who traveled from tournament to tournament, well versed in jousting and living on the prize money. Though he wasn’t as sly and devious as his cousin, Heinrich knew it would require all his skill to vanquish him.

  The herald raised his stick again, and the knights spurred their exhausted horses. The Burgundian aimed well, but Heinrich managed to deflect his opponent’s lance with his shield and unhorse the knight with his own lance. Next to him, Seibelstorff’s horse went down, and Heribert lost his grip, falling to the ground. Unlike the heavily armored Burgundian, he got back on his feet without help, but the tournament was over for him. Cursing under his breath, he left the lists, while Heinrich and Falko von Hettenheim prepared for the encounter that would determine the winner.

  Marie, generally a rather reluctant churchgoer, clasped her hands as the two cousins assumed their positions, praying silently and fervently to the Virgin Mary and Holy Mary Magdalene to protect Sir Heinrich and help him win, while the man she had bet against loudly cheered for Falko. When the two knights spurred their horses, the spectators fell silent. Marie closed her eyes, sending a plea to the Virgin Mary with each heartbeat. Suddenly she heard a single sharp blow, but upon opening her eyes, saw both knights still sitting in their saddles. The crowd groaned with disappointment. Then Falko von Hettenheim slowl
y slipped off his horse with his saddle, tipping to the side and falling on the ground.

  Marie burst out laughing and clapped her hands. Even though the entire assembled crowd was now laughing, Falko filtered out Marie’s voice from the fray, furiously tearing off his helmet and staring at her. Her joy made his defeat twice as humiliating, and he swore she would never laugh at a man again once he was through with her.

  Meanwhile, Heinrich von Hettenheim rode to the stand and lowered his lance to the kaiser. Lord Sigismund graciously waved and called upon the crowd to cheer the victor. The people gave three hurrahs, and Marie shouted at the top of her lungs.

  Then the kaiser signaled for the crowd to be quiet. “You fought well, Sir Hettenheim. But your cousin also brought honor to your name today. With knights like you by my side, we will soon defeat the rebellious Bohemians.”

  Marie continued watching Falko von Hettenheim, hindered by his heavy armor and thus waiting for his servants to help him stand up, and she didn’t notice when Black Eva spoke to her. Only when she felt someone tugging at her sleeve did she look up to see the old woman bending over her, a smile on her face.

  “Here, these are for you!” Eva counted seven of the ten guilders into Marie’s hand. “I’m keeping one and giving the two others to Theres and Donata. We’ve had hardly any business on this campaign so far, and we all need the money. I’m sure you’ve never before made seven guilders this easily and won’t miss the other three.”

  Marie agreed, though she’d held a lot more gold in her hands before. “Just make sure Oda doesn’t see you giving the money to Theres and Donata, or she’ll want some as well, and I’m not willing to give her a penny.”

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t give anything to that shameless wench.” Eva giggled and glanced at Falko von Hettenheim, who was being led off the field. “That arrogant fellow deserves his defeat, but I’m especially glad it was our good Sir Heinrich who threw him into the dirt.”

  But Marie wasn’t finished. “I have nothing against your keeping those guilders, but if you ever offer up my body to someone again, you’d better pray to all the saints that I don’t kill you first. I’m not selling myself to any man, do you understand?”

  Eva was about to dismiss her with a wave, when she noticed the expression in Marie’s eyes. “I’m afraid you’re serious! It’s probably better not to have you as an enemy, isn’t it?”

  “You would do well to remember that,” Marie replied with an icy smile.

  2.

  Sir Falko tossed his helmet into the corner of his tent, not caring whether the expensive object got scratched or dented. He couldn’t believe he was unhorsed by his cousin Heinrich, of all people, and he shouted at his servant to bring him some wine. Three hastily gulped cups only worsened his fury. As soon as his squire had removed his armor, Falko left the tent to look for Gunter von Losen. He found his friend in a bad state and at least as incensed as he was himself.

  Losen clenched his fists. “That miserable lout! That puny varlet! I’d almost pushed him out of the saddle when my stirrup broke and I lost my balance. I’m just glad that you made Junker Heribert eat dirt.”

  “But I lost the final battle against my cousin. May he rot in hell forever along with his sons!” Falko kicked a piece of armor to the side. “Heinrich has shamed me and made a fool of me in front of the kaiser and the rabble.”

  “If you hate him so much, you should throw him to the Bohemians like you did with that Michel Adler.”

  “Shut your mouth! Even the tents have ears here.”

  Gunter von Losen sat up painfully and looked at his friend with surprise. “What’s the matter with you? You’re not scared, are you?”

  Annoyed, Falko shook his head. “Of course not. But I saw Michel Adler’s woman in the camp. If she finds out what really happened, she will stop at nothing to avenge her husband.”

  “Adler’s wife is here in the camp? Well, I wouldn’t worry about her. How could she pose a danger to us?”

  Sir Falko laughed nastily. “Lady Marie is acquainted with the kaiser and enjoys the favor of important men. Even my liege, the count palatine, is one of them. Anyway, I want to have my way with her.”

  “I have heard that Adler’s wife is beautiful, but I would never have thought that she could rouse your desire, as you’ve had more women than any other man. I think I’ll have a look under her skirts as well once you’re done with her.”

  “I won’t just be having a look at her.” Falko was intoxicated at the thought of punishing Marie for the humiliation she had inflicted on him after his defeat. If Losen wanted to help him, so much the better. “Make sure you get back on your feet soon!” He gave his friend a patronizing slap on the shoulder and grinned when he saw Losen’s face contort in pain. “The Seibelstorff lad hit a bit hard, did he?”

  Losen waved his fist. “Get out, or I’ll hit you a bit hard.”

  Falko dodged the cup Losen hurled at him and left the tent laughing, determined to search out Marie. There was a fair next to the jousting lists, and Falko made his way past a juggling troupe, walking fast. He rudely pushed past a girl who was carrying a basket jingling with coins. She cursed him as he left, but not too loudly, because his coat of arms was well-known, and people knew that he was easily angered and landed strong blows.

  A moment later, Falko spotted Marie and two of her companions at the edge of the fairgrounds. Black Eva was holding Marie’s daughter and feeding her dried fruit, while Marie was enjoying a bratwurst. He walked toward her with a sneer and grabbed her arm. “Come with me, whore. You won’t get away this time.”

  Caught completely unaware, Marie looked up in shock. His eyes showed that he recognized her and had come to take what she had denied him in Rheinsobern. There was no point in calling for help, as no one would dare confront a knight dragging a merchant woman into the bushes, so she simply went limp, making herself as heavy as possible. Falko jerked her up, uttering a filthy curse, then swiftly grabbed her under the arms and pulled her into the dense bushes along the bank of the river. Marie’s right hand slipped through the concealed slit in her skirt and felt for the small, sharp knife she always wore on her thigh. Just as Falko made to throw her to the ground, she drew her knife and held it against his codpiece. He only noticed once the point had pierced the fabric and was threatening his most sensitive parts.

  “If you don’t let go of me immediately, you’ll never have another woman again!” Marie wanted to stab as hard as she could, but she knew she would be cut to pieces afterward without a chance to defend herself. Though if need be, she’d take that chance, because she refused to be taken by force again.

  Falko sensed how serious she was and let go, then immediately drew his sword and grinned at Marie. “Say your last prayer, because I’m going to kill you and throw your body into the river!”

  He grabbed Marie, who had no way to escape in the dense bushes, and raised his sword. Just then, his cousin Heinrich appeared behind him and knocked the sword out of his hand with a stick.

  “You’re brave enough to threaten women, but you’re too much of a coward to take on an equal. Come on, pick up your sword! I’ve been waiting for a long time to dispatch you properly.” Heinrich threw away the piece of wood and drew his weapon.

  For a second time that day, Falko von Hettenheim tasted the bitterness of defeat. His death would leave Heinrich von Hettenheim with a rich inheritance, and he knew that he’d have no hesitation in killing his cousin if their roles were reversed. But he also knew how careful his cousin was in matters of honor, and that he wouldn’t kill a defenseless man.

  Putting his hands in the air, Falko faced Heinrich. “Is this harlot really worth two cousins’ spilling blood over her? Let’s both take her!”

  Marie hissed, but Sir Heinrich signaled her to be quiet. “That’s the difference between us, Cousin,” he said to Falko. “I have never taken a woman by force, while you take out yo
ur wrath on innocent women, just because your wife only gives you daughters.”

  Laughing, Falko slowly retreated from his cousin. When he felt he was safe, he gestured obscenely at Heinrich, then calmly walked away through the fair booths toward town, as if nothing had happened.

  Heinrich stared at his sword, wondering if it had been a mistake to let his cousin live. Eventually he sheathed it with a shrug and turned to Marie.

  “You should watch out for Falko. He is like a rabid dog—always ready to sink his teeth into someone.”

  “I’ll be careful. Thank you for your help!” Marie didn’t sound as brave as she’d hoped. Falko certainly wouldn’t give up, she thought, and she regretted that he now knew about the knife. She wouldn’t be able to surprise him with it a second time.

  “I’ll tell Anselm to keep an eye on you,” Heinrich declared. “He can’t act against my cousin himself, but he can call me or Junker Heribert for help. We’ll both protect you.”

  “That’s very kind of you, sir.” Marie didn’t like the idea of being watched over, but it would be her only protection while Falko was nearby. She smiled gratefully at Heinrich von Hettenheim and pointed at Falko’s sword still lying in the grass. “What do we do with that?”

  “Leave it. It is not very honorable for a knight to send a squire out looking for his sword, but he deserves nothing less.” Holding out his arm to Marie, Sir Heinrich offered to accompany her to the camp.

  3.

  Once Falko von Hettenheim was out of his cousin’s sight, he gave free rein to his rage and stormed blindly through the crowd. He grabbed a woman who didn’t jump out of his way quickly enough and hurled her against a market stall, knocking the vendor’s honey and gingerbread down with her.

  “Can’t you look out?” the merchant roared at the woman.

  “That knight over there threw me against your table. It’s his fault!” she defended herself, pointing at Falko’s broad frame plowing through the crowd of fairgoers.