by Iny Lorentz
The merchant started picking up his pots and jars from the ground. “Be quiet, woman! It’s best not to mess with that man. If you simply step on his shadow, he’ll hit you in the face.”
But the woman wouldn’t calm down. “It’s time the kaiser sent his men to war, so they can beat up Bohemians instead of honest Nurembergers!”
“You’re right about that,” the merchant agreed. “Those knights act as though they were our lords and we honorable burghers nothing but worms that are supposed to grovel at their feet, and when we demand our rights, they just draw their swords.” The crowd that had gathered around him vigorously agreed.
Completely indifferent to the ruckus he had caused, Sir Falko was entirely focused on how he could take his revenge on Marie and his cousin. He considered a number of different scenarios, but none of them satisfied him. Consumed by his thoughts, he didn’t notice Gisbert Pauer waving and running toward him. “Sir Falko, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all over. The kaiser wants to talk to you!”
The provost marshal finally had to grab him by the shoulders to get his attention. “Hey, Hettenheim! Are you deaf? I said the kaiser is asking for you!”
Falko blinked with surprise. “The kaiser? But why?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself. He is awaiting you in his tent. Hurry up, as you know that Lord Sigismund quickly loses patience.”
Falko was well aware of the kaiser’s temper. Turning on his heels, he hastened to the imperial tent, its red silk glowing like hot embers in the sun. Even though Sigismund had a house in town he could comfortably reach on foot, he preferred to spend his time outside the city gates and hold his audiences there. As Falko approached the guards, he thought it was a good omen to be called to the kaiser after his recent humiliation.
Inside his tent, the kaiser was lying fully dressed on his camp bed, covering his face with his hands. János, his Hungarian bodyguard, dressed in his usual red surcoat and grass-green pants, approached Hettenheim with a raised scimitar in hand and, in broken German, ordered him to stop. Then he announced the knight’s arrival in his own language. Sigismund rubbed his forehead and sat up, looking old and weary; then he straightened and smiled faintly. “Come and sit down, Hettenheim.”
At the same moment, János brought out a folding chair that was rather uncomfortable, but also an honor, because usually only the highest-ranking lords of the Reich were allowed to be seated in the kaiser’s presence.
Sigismund clapped his hands, and a servant with a jug of wine and two silver goblets appeared, placing everything on a hexagonal, inlaid table. The kaiser gestured, and he disappeared again. “Pour for us, Hettenheim,” Sigismund asked the knight, fixedly staring at the goblet with great concentration. Greedily snatching up the drinking vessel, he emptied it in one gulp. “It was damned hot today, and I’m afraid there’ll be a thunderstorm tonight.”
Falko von Hettenheim also emptied his cup and enjoyed the way the Hungarian wine ran down his throat like fire.
“This wine has vigor,” the kaiser said, praising the drink.
“It does, Your Majesty. But you didn’t ask me here to assess the quality of your wine.”
Sigismund gave an unnaturally loud laugh. “No, of course not. I have summoned you here because I think you’re one of the best men I know.”
Not expecting such high praise, Sir Falko stared at the kaiser in surprise. Sigismund handed him his cup for a refill and grinned like a little boy who just thought of a particularly good prank. “I am asking you if you would like to join in my service.”
Everything inside Falko screamed out yes, but he stopped himself from immediately answering because he wanted to find out more. Was Sigismund planning on making him a knight of the Reich and endowing him with a large fiefdom, as he had deserved for so long? He could already see himself in his new, exalted position.
“I need loyal men,” the kaiser continued, ignoring Falko’s triumphant expression. “Men I can rely on. I want to leave more to my grandchildren than a few shaky crowns any rebellious vassal can push off their heads.”
Leaning forward and grabbing Falko’s sleeve, Sigismund pulled him closer. “I am sick of being forced to beg the high-and-mighty electors, counts, and prince-bishops for support as I’ve had to since the beginning of the Bohemian war. The help I’ve received from them isn’t enough for even one successful campaign. My issues in Bohemia aren’t their problem. They whisper behind my back, but to my face they’re friendly and concerned, as if each day of the Bohemian rebellion pains them personally. Just look at the burgrave of Nuremberg. A good ten years ago, I gave him the Mark of Brandenburg and put the electoral hat on his head. For that he should be grateful to me. But if I ask for money or soldiers, he comes up with a thousand excuses. He dares to tell me that his son, Joachim, had to rein in the rebellious knights in Brandenburg first, and that he himself had lost so much money in the Bavarian fights that he can’t pay for a single additional pikeman.”
The kaiser drained his goblet and motioned for it to be refilled. “They’re all just like him. But I am their superior in foresight and cunning.” Turning his eyes heavenward, as if he were receiving a divine message, he snickered. “If you think about it, the way the Bohemian war is progressing might actually work to my advantage. Let the Hussite bands devastate Bavaria, Franconia, Saxony, and other areas. They will soon wear down those lords, who will then be more likely to receive my suggestions favorably.”
“What suggestions?” Falko dared to interject.
“As soon as the Hussites have plundered the Reich to such a degree that man and beast tremble before them all the way to Burgundy, I’ll follow England’s example and force imperial estates to grant me a regular tax enabling me to keep a standing army. I want you, Hettenheim, to be one of the main men in this new army.”
As an imperial captain, he would definitely have claim to an imperial fiefdom, Falko thought, although he doubted that Sigismund would succeed in getting the decision he wanted from the Imperial Diet. Burgundy wouldn’t feel threatened by the Hussites any more than most electors, and the peasant warriors from Bohemia couldn’t get to the lands of his current lord, the count palatine, who also had electoral status, without exposing their safe retreat areas and making themselves vulnerable. The same also held true for the lands of the other prince-bishops, all of whom would give Sigismund a bitter defeat in the Imperial Diet.
But Falko still thought it would be beneficial to leave the Palatinate service and become Lord Sigismund’s vassal, and so he bent down on one knee in front of the kaiser. “I swear to serve you with all my strength and do everything I can to increase your power and greatness.”
Sigismund smiled contentedly and raised his cup to the knight. “You’re a good man, Hettenheim. I wish I had more of your kind.”
Even though the last thing he wanted was to share his reward or his influence with others, Falko nodded eagerly, then listened as Sigismund continued to talk.
“Of course I can’t give the impression of not wanting to do anything against the Bohemians anymore, or the lords would become suspicious and question my plans. Therefore, you will march tomorrow morning with a hundred of my best knights. I’ll stay here for a few more days until most of the knights injured at the tournament are fit for battle again, and then I’ll follow you with the rest of the troops. We will march eastward, conquering and burning down at least one of the Hussite cities in Bohemia to show this riotous pack what it means to rise up against their divinely chosen king.”
Grim-faced, the kaiser demanded another refill of wine, thus emptying the jug. Sir Falko put down his own goblet and stood up.
“May I ask you something, Your Majesty?”
“Of course,” the kaiser replied.
“Allow me to choose one or two itinerant merchants for my group.” Falko suddenly realized an opportunity to place Marie within easy reach, since even his cousin couldn�
��t countermand an order from the kaiser.
Sigismund shook his head. “No, no, Hettenheim! You need to be flexible, and oxcarts would just slow you down. Take a few packhorses with provisions, and you have my permission to forage along the way. We will meet at the Bohemian border, and you will have to cope without merchants until then.”
Falko knew there was no point in arguing, and after bowing to Sigismund, he backed out of the tent. The Hungarian, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him the whole time, sheathed his scimitar and closed the entrance to the tent behind him.
On the way back to the camp, Falko thought about his new plans. Though at first he was annoyed that Gunter van Losen was too injured to join him, a smirk then flashed over his face. If his friend stayed with the kaiser’s troops, he could keep an eye on his cousin and ensure that Marie was joining the kaiser’s train. Content with the turn his destiny had taken, he stormed into Losen’s tent.
4.
Marie wasn’t sure what she hated more, the terrible heat or the dust the army raised, creeping into every crack and pore of her body. Her eyes were burning and probably just as red as Trudi’s, who was sitting next to her unhappily. The little girl’s hair, skin, and clothes were covered in yellow powder, and even her usually white teeth had taken on the color of dust. Marie longed for an opportunity to shed her sweaty, dust-encrusted clothes and wash up, but as long as the army was on the march, she had to stay with her wagon. The provost marshal’s bailiffs ensured that no one left the procession, and it was too dangerous to leave the guards’ protection at night. Only two days before, a group of soldiers had molested Oda when she went to relieve herself in the forest. Oda had complained bitterly to Pauer, but he said that it was simply impossible to find the culprits among more than three thousand men, so she would just have to be more careful in the future. Marie also hated having to squat down on the side of the road to do her business in front of many pairs of eyes, but it was much better than becoming the victim of several brutal men.
“The kaiser is crazy to go on a campaign in the middle of summer. He should have gone in the spring,” Eva grumbled as she fell in line behind Marie’s wagon once more, taking off her hat and beating it against the side of her wagon.
A yellow cloud of dust rose from the hat, blowing toward Oda, who immediately started to make a fuss. “Do you have to blow around even more dust?”
“You can hardly raise any more dirt than we’re already swallowing.” Theres wiped her hand over her face, smudging the yellow powder into what looked like a grotesque mask of stone.
Eva cackled a reply, but Marie didn’t pay any more attention to her companions’ complaints. Taking the reins in one hand, she picked up her flask with the other, opened it with her teeth, and handed it to Trudi. But the half-empty bottle was too heavy for the girl’s little arms, so Marie had to help her while steering her oxen. She was annoyed at Michi, who had disappeared again and was probably walking with the soldiers up in front, listening to gruesome stories.
Marie was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake to bring him along. Michi had been a fine and obedient lad at home, but since then he had learned all sorts of bad habits from the soldiers. Her heart became heavy when she thought of Hiltrud, who had entrusted Marie with her son, convinced that her friend would take good care of him and bring him back home unscathed. I should have left him in Nuremberg with Timo. He would have straightened the boy out, Marie thought. She didn’t feel up to the task on her own, as her hands were already full looking after Trudi, guiding her oxen, and selling provisions to the soldiers.
When the horns sounded a halt in the late afternoon, Marie and the merchant women breathed a sigh of relief, then struggled to find a suitable place to park their wagons together and unhitch their animals. There was still no sign of Michi, and Marie could have done with six pairs of hands, as Trudi was whimpering with exhaustion and the oxen were stomping and bellowing. In the end, Marie had to ask two soldiers to help her.
“If I get to go under your skirts, then with pleasure,” one of them replied with an expectant grin.
“I was thinking more like a cup of wine for each of you.”
The two soldiers exchanged brief glances, then held the oxen so Marie could finally take the yoke off. After, they led the animals to the water and wiped the worst of the dirt off them with dry grass. When they were finished, Marie was waiting for them with two full cups of wine.
The soldiers raised their cups to her. “We don’t mind helping for this pay.”
“Hey, Marie, if you continue like this, you soon won’t have any wine left to sell,” Oda scoffed.
Eva, who had already finished her work and was on her way to chat with Marie, responded contemptuously. “You shouldn’t have that problem, because you pay for help with a different kind of currency. Although if your belly grows any bigger, the men will prefer wine.”
Theres and Donata burst out laughing, while Oda showered Eva with the rudest series of curses Marie had ever heard. Paying no attention to the ranting woman, Eva helped Marie prepare everything for the night. Meanwhile, with Junker Heribert’s squire and one of Heinrich’s soldiers to protect them, Theres and Donata searched for dry firewood in the forest.
While Marie fetched water for cooking, using some of it to rid Trudi and herself of the thick layer of dust, Eva set up her iron trivet in the circle of wagons and built a fire underneath. Marie and Theres provided the ingredients for the meal and took them to Eva, who wrinkled her nose at the sight of the small amount of lard and salted meat. “Hunger will get it down, I suppose.”
“You said we need to save because we don’t know when we’ll get more provisions.”
“No reason to fly off the handle. I’m still allowed to complain.” Eva issued a quick laugh, threw the first chunks into the kettle, and looked at Marie expectantly. “You should give me another handful of barley, though. The men will be hungry.”
“Not only them,” Marie replied, climbing into her wagon to fetch another half a measure. Eva poured the grain into the kettle, while Marie sat down on a flat rock next to her wagon and leaned against a tree. Trudi let Donata lift her off the wagon, then ran to her mother and snuggled up.
Eva had also used Marie’s water to wash her face and hands, but the other merchant women still looked like yellow ghosts. In search of fresh water, Donata and Theres disappeared into the forest together, chatting animatedly while Oda reluctantly trailed behind them.
Meanwhile, Eva and Marie greeted their first dinner guests. Drawn by the smell of the soup, Heinrich von Hettenheim stepped to the kettle and sniffed it. “If it tastes only half as good as it smells, it will be a feast.”
Young Seibelstorff sat down in the grass next to Marie and smiled at her, while two soldiers stayed next to the wagons, hungrily staring at the kettle. Having heard his master’s words, Anselm appeared behind them and licked his lips. “No matter how it tastes, it’s bound to be better than the slop the camp kitchen is handing out tonight. I took one look at it and shuddered. Even pigs get better food, I swear.”
“But the imperial army still has its advantages. These for example.” The Junker’s squire, Görch, the last one to enter the circle of wagons, shot a sly glance at the others and produced a sausage as long as his forearm and a piece of bacon from under his surcoat.
“I bet that isn’t from the standard provisions,” Eva said mockingly, and held out her hand.
The squire widened his eyes in innocence. “But my dear, since we’re eating at our own expense, not the kaiser’s, it seems that we’ve earned a little compensation every now and again.”
Eva hid Görch’s booty underneath the pile of firewood, her face serious, though she smiled at him. “You shouldn’t take the chance of being caught by the provost marshal. I’ve heard Pauer’s servants are very rough, and you wouldn’t get away with fewer than twenty lashes.”
Standing up, Junker Heribert p
laced his hand on his squire’s shoulder. “Listen to Eva and stop stealing. A whipping on a campaign can mean death if the wounds get infected, and even if you survived, I would have to do without you for a long time, and I wouldn’t be very pleased about that.”
When Eva mentioned lashes with the rod, Marie’s shoulder blades started to itch unbearably, making her clench her fists and bite her lips, and Heribert’s reprimand only strengthened the sensation. Forcing herself to shake off nightmarish memories of her own whipping seventeen years prior, she pressed Trudi to her chest and caressed her hair, deep in thought. Then she remembered that Michi still wasn’t back, even though dinner was ready. The unreliability of her young companion was starting to become a problem. “Does anyone know where Michi is?”
Görch nodded. “I saw him over at Gunter von Losen’s tent. I think Michi was cleaning the dust off his armor.”
“He should have been washing the oxen instead!” Marie grumbled, annoyed that Michi was hanging around Gunter von Losen. From what Timo had told her, she suspected that Losen was as much to blame for Michel’s disappearance as Falko von Hettenheim. It was time to have serious words with the boy. Even if she didn’t view him as a servant—although she had given him a few coins in addition to food and clothes—he didn’t have the right to work for someone else without her permission, especially since she needed him now more than ever. If Michi had taken the oxen to the water earlier, she wouldn’t have had to give away two cups of wine. She wondered whether she should save any food for the boy, but Eva made the decision for her.
Distributing the food for everyone on wooden plates and bowls, the old merchant woman then ladled two big spoonfuls into a clay pot and handed it to Marie. “Here, this is for Michi.”
Marie placed the pot on the seat of her wagon. While she was simultaneously feeding Trudi and taking the odd spoonful from her own plate, the other three merchant women returned. Oda, who hadn’t contributed anything to the meal, immediately sat down by the fire and reached for the bowl that was meant for Theres.