by Lorentz, Iny
“Rumold von Bürggen betrayed us!” Giso cried out to Sir Dietmar as the knight strode into the hall with the lady. “He made a pact with the Keilburgs, and in return was given Steinwald Forest as well as Felde Castle and part of the surrounding land.”
Turning red with anger, Dietmar stood there as if struck by lightning. “What are you saying? That would be a betrayal! No, I can’t believe that.”
Philipp von Steinzell nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, it’s the truth. My father sent me as soon as he heard the news. I’m to tell you that there is only one way out for us, the way my father has always suggested. We must offer ourselves as vassals to Duke Friedrich immediately and pledge our allegiance. Since the duke has reached an agreement with the Keilburgs, Count Konrad will not attack us anymore.”
While Sir Dietmar was trying to regain his composure, Lady Mechthild questioned the young Steinzell further. His report left no doubt: the alliance of the four castle lords had fallen apart even before it had gone into effect. From now on, Rumold von Bürggen would be added to the list of Arnstein’s enemies. Philipp confirmed several times that his father would enter into an alliance with Friedrich von Habsburg and pleaded with Sir Dietmar to do the same.
Now that she was allowed to stay in the great hall with the family instead of being forced to eavesdrop from the top of the stairway, Marie saw how Sir Dietmar was tormented and in despair. Rumold von Bürggen’s property sliced deeply into Dietmar’s land like a wedge separating Arnstein Castle and his two remaining allied neighbors. Rumold’s betrayal seemed to seal Dietmar’s fate, since his land would now be surrounded on three sides by that of the thieving Keilburgs.
As soon as the Steinzell squire had finished his report, Sir Dietmar began angrily shouting. “If I had known what a traitor Rumold was, I would have taken Count Konrad’s offer myself, and today we’d be much better off.”
Shaking her head, Lady Mechthild said something that sounded like “Don’t trust him.” But her words were lost in her sudden groaning and wheezing as her face contorted with pain and she placed both hands on her stomach. “It hurts so much,” she whispered through tears. A moment later, her screams echoed throughout the great hall, brushing aside all other concerns.
Guda immediately came running to help, leading the lady up the stairway to her bedroom. “The child is coming. Pray that everything goes well!” she called back to Sir Dietmar while hurriedly yelling out instructions to the remaining servants.
The great hall emptied out so quickly that soon only Marie remained behind with the young Steinzell. As Marie was wondering whether to offer Guda her help, Philipp held out the empty wine pitcher.
“Bring me another cup of your mulled wine, girl. I could use another drink.” Marie ran to the kitchen, poured a fresh pitcher from the pot that was kept warm over the fireplace, and quickly returned to fill the young nobleman’s cup. Her thoughts were with Lady Mechthild, and she didn’t notice the young man’s eyes lighting up when he saw her. Paying no attention to the wine, he pulled Marie down and forced his right knee between her legs.
“I’ve had my eye on you since my last visit to Arnstein, but I haven’t been able to approach you because Lady Mechthild has always had her people watching me. But now she’s busy and can’t keep me away from you. So don’t make a fuss, or I’ll take you by force.”
Marie could see he was serious and tried to call for help, but he pressed his gloved hand to her mouth. Though she struggled and fought to escape, he dragged her to a corridor at the other end of the great hall and pushed her into the room used for guests’ luggage. In the room were several chests large enough to serve as makeshift beds. Surrounded by thick walls, it was so far away from the residences that no one would hear her screams. Now Marie realized why one of the younger maids had been so careful to stay out of Philipp’s way during his last visit. In despair, she remembered what Hiltrud had taught her and resolved not to resist in order to avoid serious injury.
At that moment a key turned in the lock and the bolt slid aside.
“Who the hell . . .” The squire cursed, sat up, and saw Jodokus standing before him. His voice completely calm, the monk seemed uninterested in the goings-on, but instead stated his errand. “Marie, the lady wishes to see you.”
“You damned monk, can’t you see we’re busy? Get out!” Philipp added an obscene curse, and pinned Marie to the ground. Jodokus quickly grabbed him and pulled him off. Despite his gaunt frame, the monk had astonishing strength.
“You’ve lost control of yourself, Herr Philipp. As a guest, it’s unseemly to seize the lord’s property.”
“Leave me alone, monk! This woman has already been violated by so many fellows that one more doesn’t matter.”
The monk didn’t retreat. “The lady of the castle wants Marie to be the lord’s companion, and his alone.”
Jodokus’s severe tone left no doubt that he would report Philipp if he didn’t take his hands off Marie.
Philipp von Steinzell looked as if he wanted to strike the meddlesome monk, but he had come here to convince Dietmar von Arnstein to become a vassal of Friedrich von Habsburg, and if he didn’t achieve that goal, he would garner his father’s wrath. Thus, he reluctantly backed off, hissing at Marie.
“You’ll see me again, whore. Once Sir Dietmar tires of you, I’ll ask him to send you to me.”
“Your mouth will run dry waiting for that day. I am neither Sir Dietmar’s vassal nor yours.” Marie smoothed out her dress and ran past him through the door. Following her, Jodokus gripped her arm tightly.
“I hope you won’t forget I saved you from this fool,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear.
Marie nodded silently. Jodokus was one of those especially stubborn people who would wait until Lady Mechthild released her from service and then demand his reward. Just the same, she was thankful to Jodokus. She preferred to give herself to a man as a prostitute rather than to be taken by force, and she tried to smile gratefully at him. “Did the lady really call for me?”
“Yes, she wants you to calm down her husband and keep him out of the maids’ way.” Jodokus’s jealous tone made Marie shudder, and for the first time she longed for the day she could leave Arnstein Castle. For the time being, however, she was happy to run to Lady Mechthild’s room and didn’t see the monk grinning maliciously as he waited for Squire Philipp. The man soon appeared, looking around for a maid who might cool his passions. But all he found was Brother Jodokus.
“The sky has cleared, and it will be a bright, moonlit night. If you hurry, you’ll get home today. You can’t stay here in Arnstein, as the servants have no time to care for guests. Send my greetings to your father and tell him I’ll try to convince Sir Dietmar to join Duke Friedrich.”
Philipp angrily rejected this idea. “I will wait here until your lord has committed to the alliance with Duke Friedrich.”
The monk smiled softly. “As long as his wife is in labor, Dietmar will be thinking of nothing but her and the child. When he is ready to speak with you depends on how the birth goes. Do you wish to keep your father in the dark for that long?”
Philipp didn’t want to do that and mumbled his assent. The monk helped him into his overcoat, handing him his gloves while calling for a stable hand to saddle a fresh horse. Accompanying Philipp to the outer gate, the monk watched as the squire vanished into the growing darkness. Then he returned to the great hall.
At the bottom of the staircase Jodokus stopped and listened for any sounds coming from the lady’s bedroom. Everyone was attending to Lady Mechthild, and even the lord wouldn’t be thinking of anyone else, and least of all taking advantage of Marie’s charms. The monk jealously imagined bedding the young woman. He dreamed of her all night, and during the day, he was almost consumed by desire. It was only because of her that he was still at the castle, since he had long ago carried out his mission. Now, it was time for him to mysteriously disappear.
If he wanted to succeed, he’d have to strike in the next few hours, and he knew that there would never be a second chance. But if he went away, he’d run the risk of never seeing Marie again. The thought weakened his resolve, but he then slapped his forehead. If he didn’t act now, his dreams of wealth would be gone forever. He knew he was destined to find the young prostitute again, and the day would come when she would belong completely and only to him.
The monk silently climbed the stairs to the upper floor, darting like a shadow down the corridor and stopping for only a minute in front of Lady Mechthild’s door to listen to her screams and the maids’ nervous voices. It didn’t sound good. The knight would likely lose his wife as well as his still-unborn child.
Jodokus almost said a brief prayer, but reminded himself that the lady’s fate was of no concern to him, and hastened on. Moments later, he reached the door to the room where Sir Dietmar kept his most precious things. Only four people had the key to this oaken, double-hinged door—the lord of the castle, the lady, Castellan Giso, and Brother Jodokus as the knight and his lady’s scribe and confidant.
Sliding the key out from under his robe, the monk inserted it into the lock just as a maid came running out of Lady Mechthild’s bedroom, hair flying, and rushed past him. Though she ignored him, Jodokus was startled to the core, and he pressed himself against the wooden door, waiting until the maid had disappeared down the hallway. Finally opening the door with trembling hands, he slipped inside. Not wanting to attract attention, he closed the door behind him, then leaned against the wood for a moment, breathing deeply. He next walked over to a chest with silver fittings and three locks standing in a niche off to one side. Initially Jodokus had had only one of the three keys, but it hadn’t been difficult for him to borrow the other two for long enough to make their wax impressions. On a trip to Saint Ottilien’s monastery, he had met an accomplice who gave him perfect copies of the other keys before he headed back.
Opening the locks, he raised the lid carefully, taking care not to let the unoiled hinges squeak. With an experienced hand, he quickly found the leather binding containing Sir Otmar’s testament and removed it from the chest. He unfastened its silver clasp and spread out the leather in front of him. Taking a little glass bottle from a pouch hanging on his belt, he removed the stopper and carefully poured the bottle’s contents over the testament. Closing the binder, he secured the clasp so it wouldn’t fall apart, and placed it back in the chest.
His hands were trembling so much that he was barely able to close the three locks again. If anyone discovered what he’d done, it would be all over for him. After listening for sounds in the hallway, he stepped out of the room, quickly closing and locking the door behind him. Shortly thereafter he left Arnstein Castle by a side door and strode off at a quick pace in order to reach Felde Castle as soon as possible.
IX.
When Marie arrived in Lady Mechthild’s quarters, the lady was lying on her bed, screaming with pain, eyes tightly closed and fingers clenched. Nevertheless, she seemed to know what was going on around her, for as Marie bent down, she grabbed her by the shoulder and looked at her with wide, anxious eyes.
“You must try to comfort my husband. I don’t want him to be too worried about me. Recently, he has suffered more misfortune than even the bravest of us can bear without God’s help.”
“Very well, I’ll try.” Marie nodded, then quickly slipped out through the side door into the anteroom leading to Sir Dietmar’s bedroom. The lord of the castle was standing against the wall near the door, staring at it as if he expected to see the devil.
Marie brushed past him, picked up a goblet that had rolled across the floor, and wiped it off with a cloth. With trembling hands, she refilled it with wine and handed it to him. “Drink, my lord. It will do you good. Then we must kneel down and ask the saints to stand by Lady Mechthild in her hour of need.”
Time crawled by as Marie searched her memory for suitable prayers for a woman in childbirth and recited them for the knight. As she did so, she listened to the sounds coming from the next room in the hope of hearing the shouts of joy and praise that would announce a successful delivery. All she heard, however, were soft whimpers, the tiptoeing of many feet, and the lady’s cries penetrating the thick walls and drowning out all other sounds. Sir Dietmar cringed each time he heard his wife’s voice, pressing his fists against his stomach as if sharing the pain she had to bear. Finally, he could stand it no longer and jumped up to run to his wife. Marie tried to hold him back, but he pushed her aside. At the door he bumped into Giso who struggled to keep his master from rushing into the neighboring room.
Dietmar shouted angrily at his vassal. “Let me go, you scoundrel! I must see my wife!”
Marie tried to help Giso and pleaded with the lord. “You can’t help her. The midwife is with her, and if you disturb her, you will just make everything worse. So be sensible and stay here!”
“God will not be so cruel as to take my wife from me?” he asked Marie, his eyes wide with fear.
“Certainly he will not,” Marie swore, hoping that all would be well. She shuddered as she imagined what the lord might do in his anguish if Lady Mechthild did not survive the birth.
“I love her so much. Without her I am only half a person. She is my strength, my . . .” Sir Dietmar broke out in tears that neither Marie nor Giso viewed as a sign of weakness. The liegeman adored the lady of the house and would have given his life for her, but in this difficult hour no one but God could help.
She didn’t dare leave the lord alone, so she had no choice but to stare at the door, waiting for any news. Only two heartbeats later the door handle moved. Marie held her breath and clung to the knight’s trembling arm. The door swung open and Guda entered, cradling something wrapped in one of the cloths Marie had embroidered. With a broad smile, she held the bundle up to the knight.
“You have a son, my lord, and he’s as happy and healthy as can be.” As if to confirm her words, the infant let out a robust wail.
Disregarding the baby, the knight looked anxiously at the housekeeper. “How is my wife?”
“She’s very tired, but she survived the ordeal.”
Dietmar broke out in a cheer that frightened the child into another loud cry. Dietmar glanced only briefly at the red, wrinkled little face before he pushed Guda aside and ran into the next room. Relieved, Marie and the housekeeper followed. Lady Mechthild lay in her bed, looking tired and worn out, but very happy, and she smiled as her husband knelt down beside her.
“I told you it would be a boy,” she whispered.
“The most important thing is that you survived,” Dietmar replied. He kissed her and nodded to Marie who remained at the foot of the bed while he congratulated Lady Mechthild on the blessed occasion.
“To show our thanks to the Holy Virgin who has spared the life of my wife and son, I promise to go on a pilgrimage to Einsiedeln and light a candle on her altar,” he said solemnly. “But first we shall have my son baptized.”
“What name will you give him?” Marie asked curiously.
“Grimald,” the knight answered with a sparkle in his eye. “And I already know who his godfather will be.” He looked at his wife and laughed out loud as if all his cares had suddenly been swept away.
X.
The next morning, Giso took a few men to bring the news of the birth to Sir Dietmar’s friends. Marie also learned that he was going to seek the man who the lord hoped would be the child’s godfather, but no one knew who that was. Even the lady was dying to know, but the knight wouldn’t tell her. Curiously, the castellan took packhorses as if he were setting out on a long trip.
Marie was less interested in the godfather’s identity than in what happened to Brother Jodokus. Now that she was indebted to him, she despised him even more and didn’t want to run into the man in a dark corner. Tiptoeing past the chapel, she was surprised at how quiet it was, so
she peeked inside. As a sign of heavenly gratitude for the birth of the son and heir, three candles were supposed to be lit in honor of the Trinity, and one candle should have been burning before the statue of the Holy Mother. But Marie was puzzled to see only the almost-horizontal rays of the sun coming through the windows illuminating the totally empty ornamented vault.
One of the maidservants told her that Jodokus hadn’t gone to congratulate the lady after the birth, nor was he in the great hall where Sir Dietmar and his liegemen were celebrating the birth of the castle’s heir. Marie learned that Philipp von Steinzell had returned to his father’s castle the previous afternoon, and she wondered guiltily if the young squire had killed the monk out of anger for helping her. When Jodokus didn’t show up for supper, she pointed his absence out to Guda.
The housekeeper seemed not to care where the monk might be. “Brother Jodokus is an old homebody. To tell you the truth, it’s fine with me if that man stays out of our way. I don’t like how he creeps up on you, and I’d advise you to stay away from him, because I don’t trust him.”
Guda stressed the word man as if she knew about the monk’s obsession with the young prostitute. Somewhat mollified, Marie later mentioned the monk’s disappearance to Hiltrud, who teased her. “Do you miss your admirer? I didn’t think you cared for two-legged goats.”
But after Marie had told her about the incident with Philipp von Steinzell and the monk, Hiltrud became serious. “You’d better keep your mouth closed if you want to stay out of trouble. The favor of the mighty is fickle, and who’s to say what the lady will think?”
When Jodokus had still not shown up by the next evening, Sir Dietmar began to worry.
He ordered a search within the castle walls, which proved unsuccessful. Finally, he sent servants out with torches to search the surrounding area, as he thought that the monk might have had an accident while out on a walk. Though there was little hope of finding him alive in the bitter cold, not even a trace of him could be found, and the monk’s disappearance remained a mystery that no one at Arnstein Castle could solve.