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

by Iny Lorentz

  Picking up the first shirt to put it in the water, she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. She dropped the shirt as fast as lightning and reached for her dagger. It wasn’t a man lying in wait, but rather a boy, trembling with fear, staring at her with wide eyes. Marie recognized Michi, realized he was about to scream, and jumped toward him.

  She grabbed hold of him and pressed her hand over his mouth. “By the Holy Virgin, be quiet! You’ll put us both in danger.”

  His eyes rolled back as if he were about to faint, so she pulled him out of the water a little. Only then did she realize how incredible it all was. “Michi, how did you get here?” Since she was still holding her hand over his mouth, he only managed a few muffled sounds.

  Marie glared at him. “I’m letting go now, but don’t you dare make a loud noise!” She withdrew her hand, ready to cover his mouth again at any moment.

  Holding his arms in front of him, Michi whimpered quietly. “Please don’t hurt me, Marie’s ghost. I promise I’ll always pray for your soul and buy a candle so you’ll soon be released to enter the heavenly kingdom.”

  It took a few moments before Marie realized he believed he was seeing a ghost, and she wondered how she could set him straight. She decided on a few strong slaps to his face. Michi took them without saying a word, then held his hand up to his sore cheeks.

  “Do you understand now that I’m still alive?” she asked with a smile.

  Michi nodded seriously. “I’m sure a ghost wouldn’t have hit so hard.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had to. You could have given us away. But tell me, how did you get here?”

  “I’m here with Sir Heinrich. He’s bringing a group of soldiers to Count Sokolny to help him fight the evil Hussites.”

  Marie felt as if a weight had fallen from her chest. “Heinrich von Hettenheim is nearby? How many soldiers does he have?”

  “One hundred forty,” Michi replied quietly.

  “That’s far too few. There are more than two thousand Taborites here, and it will take at least as many men to beat them. Run back to Sir Heinrich and tell him to retreat immediately, before the Taborites discover your group. But before you go, please tell me what you know of Trudi. Is she alive? Is she well? Where is she?”

  “She’s well! Black Eva is looking after her, and so am I,” Michi reported proudly.

  “You’re not saying you brought Trudi here!”

  Michi nodded. “Well, of course she’s with us! Timo was going to sell her to the kaiser, so I took her back to Eva!”

  “Oh my God!” Marie was speechless in her fright. It wouldn’t even take three days for Vyszo’s men to find Sir Heinrich’s group, and then her daughter would be in grave danger.

  Michi shrugged uncomfortably. “Marek thinks that with a bit of luck, we could make it through the siege line and seek refuge in the castle. So I have to find the underground channel and crawl into the castle to tell the people about our arrival. The entrance drains into the creek somewhere near the crooked willow.”

  Michi looked around, but Marie had spotted the end of the tunnel immediately. “It’s right there. Look, there’s water flowing out of the bank.”

  Crawling over, Michi found a crack in the rock, overgrown with matted scrub. Marie helped him pull out some of the plants, and held the rest aside so he could examine the entrance. Michi peered inside and groaned. “I have to pull out the dirt clogging the tunnel, or I won’t get through.”

  “Hurry up, but be careful not to get the water too muddy, or one of the Taborites might notice and come look around.” Michi nodded and threw the mud under the bushes. While he was working, he asked Marie how she came to be with the Taborites.

  Not wanting to go into detail, Marie merely told him that Falko von Hettenheim had left her behind so she would fall victim to the Hussites, and explained how she had managed to gain mercy from her captors by telling them about Jan Hus’s death.

  While they talked, she started washing the laundry, but didn’t make much of an effort as she knew now how she could escape.

  “You’ll return to Sir Heinrich to tell him what the count said, right?”

  Michi stuck his head out of the opening and nodded eagerly. “Of course I will!”

  “Then tell him that I’m with the Hussites, and I’ll try to escape into the castle with you.”

  “Why don’t you run to our people right away? Just go west on the path starting at the edge of the forest.”

  For a moment, Marie thought about how nice it would be to hold Trudi in her arms that very night, but then slowly shook her head. “I can’t. If I disappear, the Taborites will search for me and discover Sir Heinrich’s men. Also, I’d have to leave behind two friends, on whom the men would take revenge.”

  “I understand.” Michi crawled back inside the tunnel to check whether he could now make it through. Before disappearing into the hole, he stuck his head out once more and said good-bye. “See you again soon! Wish me luck.”

  “To you and the rest of us,” Marie replied, watching him disappear. When she couldn’t see his legs any longer, she covered his traces as best she could and washed her face and hands. Then she climbed out of the creek, glanced at the laundry basket with a wrinkled nose, and decided to take it back as it was.

  She had just reached the nearest wagon when Przybislav came toward her, his face darkening. “What’s this? Why aren’t you at work?”

  Marie pointed east, where the sky had turned black as ink. “I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face anymore, so I’ll have to finish in daylight tomorrow.” Walking past the man toward the other wagons, she sensed him following her, but then she heard his footsteps speeding up, and he trudged toward the spot where Vyszo had gathered the army’s collective beer supply.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Marie gazed over at the crooked willow in the last light of day. She’d return there tomorrow and wash laundry until Michi turned up, even if there was a danger of Przybislav or one of his companions following her. Just as she was pondering how to escape should they come after her, the setting sun broke through the clouds, sending a golden farewell over the castle’s battlements. It seemed like a sign of encouragement, and Marie instinctively looked up.

  Suddenly, she gasped with surprise, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. A man had appeared on the tower closest to her, wearing a polished cuirass. The helmet that he carried under his arm gleamed red in the sunlight. Marie had seen the image before in her dreams; she was sure of it. Putting down her basket, she walked toward the castle as if in a trance. The closer she got, the faster her heart pounded as her suspicion turned to certainty with each step. The man who was bathed in the last rays of sunlight on the tower was her Michel.

  PART SIX

  THE BATTLE OF FALKENHAIN

  1.

  The tunnel was so tight, Michi had to twist and wriggle to get past countless corners and ledges. Several times, the water rose up to his face, and he struggled to keep his head just below the ceiling as he gasped for air. That, and a complete absence of light gave him a taste of the horrors of hell the priests invoked in church every Sunday, and with each arm’s length that he moved forward, his fear grew greater of getting stuck and drowning or, even worse, slowly starving to death. He thought of his friends and comrades up in the Lom forest, who would fall into Hussite hands if he didn’t succeed, and he pushed his fear aside. The rough walls ripped at his shirt, and sharp-edged rocks peeled the skin off his body, but he couldn’t give up.

  When the damp walls almost closed in on him, Michi took a deep breath to gather his strength. Then he exhaled, stretched himself out as long as possible, and crept on with only the help of his hands and toes. Starting to feel like the rock was squeezing the soul from his body, he panicked, gasping for breath, but his head pounded against the ceiling. Everything around him was water and rock, and bright spots danced in front of his eyes. Just as he
thought his end had finally come, his fingers grasped at empty space.

  Feeling about for an edge, he thrust himself toward it and slid into an almost bottomless pool, thrashing about wildly and swallowing water. Bumping into something wooden stretching up beside him on the wall, he grabbed at it, pulling up on it toward a glimmer of light high above him. A moment later, he broke through the surface, coughing and retching, and found himself in a spring chamber hewn into the rock. Water was running down the walls around him, dripping like rain from the ceiling high above. The wood he was still clutching onto was a ladder carved from a single tree trunk leading to a platform illuminated by two flickering oil lamps. To Michi, the steps carved into the wood seemed like the stairway to paradise.

  After he climbed up, he found himself facing a stocky, middle-aged woman, who dropped her water bucket in her fright. She gave a piercing scream, struggled to catch her breath, and showered Michi with a gush of words, which he only understood in part, despite Marek’s enthusiastic attempts to teach him Czech. His clothes were green with moss and algae, and she appeared to think he was a water spirit wanting to drag her down into his dark kingdom.

  “I’m no demon, but a human and a friend!” Michi implored her in a loud voice. Then he remembered that she wouldn’t be able to understand him, and he tried to think of the Czech words. But the woman breathed a sigh of relief and placed her fists on her hips. “If you’re no water spirit, then what are you doing in our well?”

  Michi looked at her with relief. “You speak German?”

  The woman nodded. “There used to be many Germans in this area. You speak differently from them, however.”

  Clambering onto the platform, Michi tried to squeeze the water from his hair and what remained of his clothes. “Marek sends me. I urgently need to speak to Count Sokolny to tell him that Sir Heinrich and his people have come to your aid.”

  “A German army has come to scatter the Hussites? By the Mother of God, we’re saved!” The woman pressed him against her chest despite his bedraggled appearance.

  Tears sprang to Michi’s eyes because he knew that he must disappoint the woman. “Well, we’re not really an army, just a hundred forty men sent to reinforce the castle, and unfortunately the enemy got here first.”

  “Well, with God’s help and that of your friends, we’ll chase the riffraff away. Come with me. I’ll take you to the count.” The woman took his hand, and they climbed the steep stairs hewn into the rock ending at a door, left ajar and through which a tasty aroma wafted. Michi stumbled into the kitchen, sniffing the air, his stomach rumbling.

  Windows below the ceiling showed the night sky, but several oil lamps and fires in the enormous brick hearth infused the kitchen with light. Two women were working with various kitchen appliances, watching over the contents of several polished kettles hanging above the fire from iron chains. One was older and rather plain, yet skinny as a young girl, and the other was a strapping woman in her early twenties, whom Michi thought quite pretty.

  Upon hearing footsteps, both women turned and stared at them in surprise. The pretty one started to laugh.

  “I thought you were fetching water, not angling for a dapper lad. Wanda, I’m afraid he’s far too young for you!”

  Her companion shook her head reluctantly. “I hope he isn’t a spy!”

  “No, just a Nemec frog who jumped out of our well,” Wanda replied with a laugh. “He’s bringing a message from Marek and wants to speak to the master, but I think we should give him some dry clothes first, and something to eat, as he looks starved.”

  The younger woman scrutinized Wanda’s broad figure and laughed. “Compared to you, he’s nothing but skin and bones.”

  “Jitka, when you’re my age, you learn to appreciate a well-padded backside when you sit down on a cold chair.”

  Michi didn’t understand much of the Czech conversation, but he was surprised at the women’s good mood considering that their enemies were lined up outside the castle, waiting to destroy them. He tugged at Wanda’s sleeve. “I want to see the count!”

  But his plea fell on deaf ears. She gave him a friendly smile, walked over to the hearth, and looked into the pots. Nodding toward one of them, she fetched a plate and filled it with something Michi hadn’t seen before.

  “Here, eat. Zdenka will find some dry clothes for you. Her Karel should have something in your size.”

  Michi gave in. He nodded gratefully, sat down, and started to eat. Shortly thereafter, Zdenka returned with fresh clothes, and Václav Sokolny. He stopped at the door and looked Michi over.

  “Who are you, and how did you get here?” The count was worried about the castle and its inhabitants, and his voice was full of mistrust.

  “My name is Michi. Marek sends me, and he told me about the tunnel so I could bring you news.”

  The count stepped closer. “So it’s true! Thank heavens Marek has returned safely. But where is he now?”

  “Somewhere in the forest up in the hills. We’re here with Sir Heinrich’s group. He is supposed to reinforce your garrison with his hundred forty men.”

  Sokolny waved dismissively with both hands. “A hundred forty? We’d need ten times as many to beat those Taborites.”

  “Our group can fight through the siege at night to get to the castle. There are few of us, but we’ve got the courage of many!”

  “Like you,” Wanda joked. Flashing her a disapproving look, the count started nervously pacing the kitchen and shaking his head.

  “It’s not just impossible—it’s pointless. Go back to your commander and tell him to take his men and leave as fast as he can, or those fanatics will kill you, too.”

  Michi vehemently objected. “The enemy would catch us one way or another. The only chance we have is to reach the castle.”

  Count Sokolny stopped pacing and chewed his lip. “You may be right. The Taborites are swarming all over like vermin, and once they’ve found you, they won’t stop until every last one of you is dead. Come with me, boy! I’ll call my men together, and you can tell us everything you know.”

  With a yearning look at his bowl of stew, since he had only had a few spoonfuls, Michi reluctantly stood up. But Wanda was the uncontested ruler in her kitchen. “No, my lord! Let the poor boy eat first. You can wait a few minutes. Also, he’ll catch cold if he stays in his wet clothes! Here are some dry ones and a towel. Zdenka, Jitka, turn around while he gets changed.”

  The count replied indignantly. “Be quiet, woman, and let the boy speak. I need to know everything he can tell us. Send someone to fetch the German. Frantischek will ask our guest all the right questions. No, hang on, get me a jug of beer first, and one for our guest.”

  “I can pour the beer!” Wanda interjected. “Zdenka, Jitka, run along and find our Nemec.”

  After the two women scurried out the door, Wanda took two small clay jugs from wooden hooks and filled them from a barrel cooled in water. “Hot beer to warm your limbs would probably be better for you, but we don’t have any this time of year. Drink slowly, my boy! Our beer is strong.”

  Cautiously sipping his drink, Michi grimaced. “That’s bitter.”

  “Until now you’ve probably had nothing stronger to drink than honey water,” Wanda scoffed.

  Michi picked up the mug again, took a few long gulps, and wiped the froth from his lips. “Actually, it’s not that bad!” He smiled, reached for the spoon, and wolfed down the stew ravenously. The food was excellent, and he even had time to ask Wanda for seconds since the count wanted to wait for his adviser to arrive before questioning Michi. Emptying the plate a second time, he then washed down the stew with a sip of beer and remembered the dry clothes Zdenka had put on a chair. In his excitement, he had hardly felt his wet clothes clinging to his body, but now he started to feel cold. Wanda gave him an encouraging smile and started to turn away, but Michi struggled with the unfamiliar clothes, and so she dress
ed him as she would a small child.

  Before he could wriggle out of Wanda’s grasp, the door opened and Michel entered the kitchen. “Zdenka said you had news for me, my lord.”

  At the sight of him, Michi started flailing his arms in horror, sweeping the earthen plate off the table and onto the floor. He would have smashed the jug as well if Wanda hadn’t been so quick to intervene.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she asked. Michi had his hand pressed to his mouth to stifle his screams, and with his other trembling hand, he was pointing at Michel. When he lowered his hand from his mouth, it was covered in tooth marks. “You . . . you . . . you are dead!”

  The count looked at the boy with confusion, about to say something, but Michi had pulled himself together, walked toward Michel, and touched him cautiously. “You’re not a ghost! You . . . Oh no! Forgive me, sir, for addressing you so disrespectfully, but I feel like I’m swept up in a strange dream.”

  While Sokolny, puzzled, looked from one to the other, Michel pressed his hands to his head, which was suddenly filled by a dull booming and a roaring noise. “You know me?” he asked cautiously.

  “Of course, my lord! You’re my godfather. But you know that yourself! You’re Michel Adler, a knight of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation.”

  Michel felt as if his head were about to explode. As he stared at Michi, forgotten images of the boy suddenly appeared in his mind, and Michel clutched at the scraps of memory like a drowning man tossed about in a storm. “And you’re Michi, right? Hiltrud and Thomas’s eldest son! My God, how you’ve grown.”