by Iny Lorentz
“Hey, what are you doing?” Theres tried to grab her bowl back, its contents sloshing about dangerously, but Eva handed her another serving.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got enough tonight, but if Oda doesn’t start contributing tomorrow, her stomach will stay empty.”
Impervious to the threat, Oda wolfed down her meal and was finished before Theres and Donata were even halfway through theirs.
“It’s obvious you’re eating for two,” Eva jested, and looked around questioningly. “Whose turn is it to wash up?”
“Since Oda has invited herself, she can do it,” Theres suggested, and the others agreed. Oda made a sour face but collected the dishes. Her big belly made it impossible for her to take the kettle as well, so Theres got up. “Come, Oda, I’ll give you a hand.”
As they walked toward the creek under the watchful eyes of the guards, Marie poured a cup of wine for each of the two knights. Then, when she saw Görch’s pleading eyes, she added half a cup each for him and Anselm.
Eva squinted and shook her head. “I have to agree with Oda after all! You’re a little too generous with your things.”
“It’s not really that bad,” Marie replied. “The two gentlemen are paying well for their meals, after all.”
Sir Heinrich shot a quick glance at Junker Heribert. “It wasn’t very much, actually. I think we should add a few shillings.”
Immediately reaching for his belt, Heribert opened his already rather shrunken purse. But before he could take out any coins, Marie lifted her hand.
“Wait until I know exactly how much you owe us.”
Heribert tied his purse back to his belt. “But please don’t forget, Frau Marie.”
Marie rolled her eyes, because he addressed her like a lady of rank or a wealthy burgher woman rather than an itinerant merchant. Sir Heinrich frowned, because as much as he liked Marie, he was worried that the Junker was making a fool of himself for her. He raised his cup to the younger knight. “To your health, Junker Heribert, and to yours, too, Marie. One doesn’t find a merchant woman as capable as you every day.” He emptied his cup in one gulp and set it on the ground.
“Would you like a refill?” Marie asked.
“I’d better not, because I want to keep a clear head.”
His concerned tone made Marie take note. “Is there trouble?”
Picking up a branch and poking around in the fire, Heinrich replied thoughtfully. “It’s not quite trouble. But the foot soldiers are whispering a bit too much for my taste when officers aren’t around, especially the Flemish soldiers the kaiser hired this spring. The fellows have received only their down payment so far and are asking more and more insistently when they’ll be getting paid. I hope we meet the enemy soon and collect some booty so they’ll quiet down.”
Eva spat contemptuously on the ground. “Then it shouldn’t have been your cousin leading the advance party, Sir Heinrich, because he’s plundered the villages ahead of us and burned their provisions, leaving us with no spoils to claim.”
Heinrich von Hettenheim clenched his fists. “My cousin doesn’t care whether the kaiser wins back the crown of Bohemia, as long as he comes home a rich man. I hope God is just and denies him an heir as punishment.”
It had sounded like a prayer, and Marie laughed aloud. “Don’t worry, she’ll have many daughters yet.”
The knight looked up with surprise. “Do you know Falko’s wife?”
Marie nodded emphatically before realizing she was about to give herself away, then rocked Trudi in her arms to gain time until she found the right words. “Well, I saw Lady Hulda at the market once, asking an herb woman for a remedy to help her conceive sons. She got her potion, but the herb woman told me later that although the brew would indeed help her conceive, she would only bear girls.”
Sir Heinrich slapped Marie’s shoulder, chuckling. “My noble cousin would deserve that. But I’m afraid he’d rather smother his wife in her sleep and take another woman to his bed than let me or one of my sons get his inheritance. But I can’t really complain. I’m not destitute, and with a bit of luck, the honorable abbot of Vertlingen will declare my eldest son my successor one day.”
Eva winked at him. “Maybe you’ll gain the kaiser’s favor on this campaign and he’ll endow you with an imperial fiefdom as he did for a brave knight who saved his life two years ago. Though the poor fellow didn’t get to enjoy his new status much because he died shortly afterward in battle against the Bohemians, his heirs will be forever grateful for this promotion.”
It took all of Marie’s effort to restrain herself from yelling at Eva that she’d much rather have Michel alive than an imperial fiefdom, which was of no use to her anyway. Even if the kaiser kept his word and transferred it to her daughter, other people would administer the land and use it to their own advantage, and they would force Trudi to marry one of Sigismund’s insufferable liege men.
“Life isn’t fair!” she exclaimed, and the others looked at her in surprise.
“What do you mean?” Eva asked.
Pinching her eyes and rubbing her forehead with her fingers, she replied evasively. “Just an old memory, nothing more.”
At that moment, Michi returned, looking guilty.
“Where have you been all this time?” Marie snapped at him angrily. “Have you even eaten anything?”
“Only a piece of bread the commissary gave me.”
“We saved you something,” Eva said. “It’s in the pot on your seat. Take it to the fire, as it’s probably cold by now.”
Michi rushed to the wagon, fetched the pot, and placed it alongside the fire. After a little while, he took his spoon from a pouch on his belt and started eating. “That’s really good!”
“It had better be, because I was the cook today.” Eva smiled and cut him a piece of the sausage Görch had brought. “Here you go! Boys your age are always hungry.”
Then she tilted her head back and looked at the sky. “The evening star is already out. That means bedtime, even if bed is only a few blankets underneath the wagon.”
“The old Romans called the evening star Venus, after their goddess of love,” Heribert said, looking longingly at Marie.
Heinrich von Hettenheim saw the look and placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “If you really need a woman, go to the camp prostitutes. Marie is too good to be a Junker’s mistress.” He didn’t use the formal address as he had up to then, but instead spoke to him like an old friend.
Glaring at him, Heribert indignantly replied. “I adore Frau Marie and would never soil her out of lust.”
“That is a wise resolution you shouldn’t forget.” Sir Heinrich finally decided to speak as he saw fit. Young Seibelstorff needed someone to look out for him and to be honest—even if the truth wasn’t always pleasant.
Theres and Oda returned with the washed plates and handed them back. Suddenly, Eva gave a sharp cry and pointed to a beautifully carved piece that Oda had kept. “Stop, that’s mine!”
Startled, Oda tried to hide the bowl underneath her skirt, but Theres was quicker and took it from her. “It really is your most beautiful piece, Eva. I’m afraid we can’t let Oda wash up anymore. She’s too light-fingered.”
The other three nodded gravely, and Eva gave the pregnant woman a piercing look. “I’d be more careful if I were you, because soon you’ll need our help.”
Oda gestured rudely. “Bah, long before my child comes, I’ll be back in Nuremberg or even Worms with Fulbert Schäfflein.”
Eva cackled. “You must be dreaming! It’s not smart to travel with a big tummy, and if Herr Schäfflein actually was interested in his bastard, which I doubt very much, it would hurt his manly pride if you were to give him a stillborn child.”
Snickering at the thought of the stout little man Oda had so readily lain with, Marie quickly became sober. Rather than bowing to the count pala
tine’s will and marrying that unspeakable merchant, she’d sooner enter a nunnery and mourn Michel for the rest of her life.
Eva tapped Marie on the shoulder. “What’s that look on your face? You’ve been acting a bit strange since Nuremberg,” the old merchant woman said, then waved dismissively. “You’re the one who has to live with your moods. Let’s all go to bed. Tomorrow won’t be any easier than today.” She walked toward her wagon, then suddenly turned and pointed her finger at Oda. “If I catch you sneaking around my wagon, I’ll crack you with my whip, pregnant or not!”
5.
The next morning, Görch appeared like a shadow next to Marie’s wagon, glanced around furtively, and slipped her a ham, which he said the commissary had forgotten. “As a thank-you for your excellent wine! Please look after yourself and stay away from the Flemish mercenaries. The fellows want to desert if they don’t get paid soon and plunder a few villages on their way back through the Reich, so their march will have been worth it.”
“But all the villages behind us are loyal to the kaiser. They can’t be talking about them!”
Görch shrugged. “What difference does it make whether the villages are raided by the Bohemians or the kaiser’s soldiers? The result is always the same.”
“Yes, people get killed, women are molested, and the noble lords raise their goblets in victory. It makes you want to tear your hair out!”
“I have to say, though, I’d rather the Flemings kill a few peasants than cause trouble here in the troops,” Görch replied with a shrug.
At that moment, Marie cursed the idea of pretending to be an itinerant merchant and wished she was back in Hiltrud’s warm house. But as she reminded herself, she hadn’t been safe there, either. To be put in the bed of an unwanted husband often included hundreds of violations, even if the man was acting with the church’s blessing. So it didn’t really matter where she was. All that mattered to her was that she survived and found Michel.
Putting the ham away with her provisions, she winked at Görch, who said a hasty good-bye, then waved Michi over. “Stay with me from now on. I don’t want you loitering around Gunter von Losen and his people! Do you understand?”
Michi nodded reluctantly. He was annoyed at Marie’s obvious dislike for the knight. Gunter von Losen was always nice to him and treated him almost like the son of a nobleman, and Lutz, his squire, had promised to give him a sword as soon as he’d taken one from a Bohemian. Michi couldn’t wait to own his first weapon and didn’t want to spoil his friendship with the man for anything, no matter how many times Marie scolded him. But at the same time, he knew he should help her, because she was only a woman and hadn’t grown up handling oxen.
He looked up at her with a boyish smile. “May I at least go back to the soldiers for a little bit tonight?”
Not wanting to spoil all his fun, Marie nodded. “Yes, as long as you don’t go to Losen and his people.”
Michi liked his mother’s friend, who was the best godmother in the world to him, but he wasn’t willing to miss out on getting a sword even for her. Why should he go to Anselm or Görch, who treated him like a little boy rather than as a real man? Sir Gunter talked with him, often asking about Marie and praising her beauty, and he sometimes struggled not to reveal that she wasn’t a simple merchant woman but a real lady of rank.
Meanwhile, Marie climbed on her wagon seat, flicking the end of the whip just above the heads of the oxen so that they knew it was there but didn’t feel its sting. Trudi laughed when the animals wiggled their ears, as if the whipcord were a fly they were trying to shake off. The two oxen obediently leaned into the yoke and got the heavy wagon moving easily. Marie gazed at her view of the backs of the marching soldiers and the never-ending dust, which was already rising in thick clouds at the front of the procession.
During the welcome short lunch break, Marie fetched several buckets full of water from a nearby spring that Eva found. Fresh—and, especially, clean—drinking water was a rare treat on this campaign. There were creeks and rivers everywhere, but by the time the women reached them, they were usually churned up and muddy from the horses. After Marie had replenished her water supply, she handed Trudi a piece of dry bread, then took a bite herself. When the signal to continue sounded, she sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Can you smell something?” she asked Eva.
The older woman shook her head. “No, nothing . . . Stop! Wait! It smells like something is burning.”
Others were noticing, too, and concerns grew. Marie stood on her seat and saw a distant column of smoke rising up in the air. It didn’t look like a forest fire, but neither did it look like the cooking fires of an army. From his place at the front of the train, the kaiser had also spotted the smoke and wondered aloud whether it might be a sign from Falko von Hettenheim, since he hadn’t yet received word from the knight. With a violent tug he reined in his horse and ordered a knight next to him to ride ahead to find out what was going on. “Take twenty men, Sir Volker, and find out what is happening.”
Volker nodded, pointed randomly at a collection of knights around him, including Heinrich von Hettenheim and Junker Heribert, and spurred his horse ahead without checking to see if they were following. As the men left the procession behind, the smell of smoke became stronger and stronger, but to the horsemen’s relief, the forest soon ended. They were riding across a settled area, a large clearing where pastures and fields had been cultivated. In the middle was a sizable village, the inhabitants of which had tried to protect themselves with a palisade. As those in the reconnaissance group approached the village, they saw that the wooden barricade and the larger buildings were still ablaze, while the poorer huts were left in smoldering remains.
One of the knights gave a piercing cry and pointed ahead. Heinrich spurred his horse forward to catch a glimpse of the burning logs and felt his blood curdle. It wasn’t his first campaign or the first time he had seen dead people, but what he beheld there looked like a scene from hell. Two massive piles of mangled bodies of men, women, and children had been stacked up on either side of the road, and in the middle of the road, a single dead body was nailed to a cross, recognizable as a priest only by the shreds of his habit.
Junker Heribert gagged. “Who would have done something so horrific?” he asked Sir Heinrich with a pale face.
“Either my cousin Falko or the Hussites. I’m guessing it was the rebels, because Falko’s people wouldn’t have bothered piling up the dead.”
The Junker looked around wildly. “Are you saying the Bohemians are still nearby?”
Staring at the smoking remains of the village, Sir Heinrich shook his head. “No, they no doubt retreated into the forest long ago. I’m sure they knew we were coming, as they seem to have piled up the bodies as a welcome for the kaiser.”
Shaken, Volker turned away and ordered one of his companions to report back to the kaiser.
It took a while for Sigismund to reach the village since he brought the whole procession with him for safety. Just before reaching the burning palisade, he ordered the trumpets to signal a halt, glanced at the bodies, and called out angrily. “Damn it, why did I send Sir Falko ahead if not to keep smaller patrols of Bohemians away from us and warn us of larger groups?”
“We should bury the dead,” Junker Heribert suggested, not having heard the kaiser’s outburst.
The kaiser turned to him, furious. “That would cost us at least four hours. No, we’ll move on. With God’s help, we’ll find these murderers and punish them.” After some soldiers cleared the priest’s body from the road, the army continued its forward march. No one remained unaffected by the sight of the dead. The knights attempted to be brave, bragging about how they would punish the Bohemians for their deed, but the servants and foot soldiers trudged along with gray faces, many of them stopping to be sick at the side of the road.
Marie tried hard not to look, but as she steered her cart between the pile
s of bodies, the oxen stopped and wouldn’t move. “Jump down, throw this blanket over their heads, and lead them!” she ordered Michi, who was clinging to the wagon in terror. Gently nudging the boy, she told him to keep his eyes on the oxen and the road just in front of him. Then she pulled Trudi onto her lap, covered her with her skirt, and took the reins, ready in case the animals started to bolt. She kept her eyes fixed on Michi, who was crying bitterly but did as she asked him. When the worst seemed to be over and he was sitting next to her again, she caressed him and told him over and over how brave he had been.
The road through the burning village seemed to go on forever, and when it finally took a turn, Marie was about to breathe a sigh of relief. But just then, she glimpsed the bodies of a man, woman, and girl lying in an overgrown ditch. Marie wanted to shut her eyes, but she noticed a movement. Looking more carefully, she saw that one of the girl’s arms was moving, her fingers frantically opening and closing.
Abruptly pulling the oxen to a stop, she handed the reins to Michi and jumped off the wagon.
“Has something happened?” Eva called out.
“I think someone’s still alive!” Marie knelt down next to the girl, who must have been about thirteen years old, and hesitantly touched her hand. Her clothes were soaked with blood, but she was still warm and her muscles twitched as if she had a fever.
One of the provost marshal’s men had noticed that Marie’s wagon had stopped, and he hurried toward her. “Get back on your wagon and move along! You’re holding up the whole train.”
Marie vehemently shook her head. “This girl is still alive. We can’t just leave her here.”
The bailiff glanced at the injured girl. “Bah, she won’t make it for much longer. Can’t you see she’s bleeding like a stuck pig?”
“But I won’t let her die like a pig. Eva, please come and help me lift her onto my wagon.”