“Max Nerds?” Werner whispered as he slipped into the shadows next to me.
“My Lord?”
“My men have been instructed to stop drinking. They only pretend, pouring their wine into the straw. Soon, Miranda will have us toast to Ott with her special wine. That has to be the poisoned one. Once we raise our mugs, we shall become very sleepy. I’ll announce to the Lady that we’re suddenly worn and must rest. My men will put up a show, no doubt, and we’ll go to our sleeping quarters. Then we sneak toward the barn. We must haste.”
“What about Miranda? Won’t she check in on you?”
Werner chuckled. It sounded bitter. “We’ll give her a spectacle. She’ll be convinced we’re sleeping. Go to the barn and alert Enders. Ask him to have the squires ready our horses. Quietly. We’ll have to subdue the guards on our way out, but that will be easy.”
“You want me to go now?”
“Yes, make sure nobody sees you. Especially Ott. And shed the armor. It’ll slow you down.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
I hurried toward the stables, my breast and back plates rattling against the helmet. A few strollers gawked but they were likely too drunk to care. As the stalls came into view, I remembered the berries, my opportunity to teach stinking Ott a lesson.
Instead I was going to hide and run off with Werner. Chances were great I’d never see Ott again. I stopped in my tracks, fingers groping for the cloth packet.
I had to try and smuggle them into Ott’s food or drink. Better yet. What if I gave Miranda the other five? They’d both get sick and would be out of commission—except Miranda looked sober and way too alert to become an easy target. And Ott?
He was suspicious by nature and may work out the strange knight’s identity anytime. I hesitated. I really wanted to get away fast. I’d never be riding the same speed as the knights anyway. They’d return quickly and protect Hanstein. Nothing else mattered. I would simply arrive later.
The stable doors were open and I peeked inside. A few torches burned, illuminating the rumps of dozens of horses. Outside, more horses stood grazing and waiting for their masters.
“Enders?” I said, wanting nothing more than to rid myself of the silly helmet.
“Sir Dagonet?” Enders appeared out of the gloom.
“Have the Lord’s squires ready the horses,” I whispered. “Knight Werner and his men will be here soon. Not a word to anyone else.”
Enders nodded and turned away.
“Wait,” I said. “Help me take off the helmet and plates first.”
Enders stepped closer and lifted away the armor. “Stay out of sight,” he whispered.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
Chapter 33
What a relief to be able to see and hear without obstruction. The air was cool on my sweaty forehead as I darted toward the great hall. Above it had to be the sleeping quarters. I’d take a quick peek, maybe find a way to plant the berries.
The servant at the entrance nodded and opened the door. The racket inside the hall had turned into a squall of chatting voices, raucous laughter and screams. People lay, sat and stood, hands permanently attached to mugs and the breasts or bottoms of their neighbors. Things were getting wild. I wished I could’ve snapped a few shots of the craziness of medieval partying.
Instead I scanned the room for Ott and his mother. Near the back end, I noticed Miranda speaking to Werner and his men. Ott wasn’t around and I decided to disappear through another door into a staircase.
I climbed to the second floor. Two doors led away from here. The first was a sitting room of sorts with a smoldering fire and a couple chairs. I rushed past and opened the next door, hoping that maids and servants were downstairs helping.
The room was nearly dark except for a single oil lamp on a shelf near a four-poster bed. A couple dresses hung on hooks from a wardrobe—a woman’s room. This had to be Miranda’s chamber.
I returned past the sitting room into the staircase and opened the other door—another sitting room almost identical to the first. I moved on through the gloom. The second door opened with a squeak and I peered inside—another bed, slightly smaller with heavy curtains. This had to be Ott’s place.
I hurried closer to look for a carafe or mug. Maybe I could drop the berries. But then who knew if Ott would eat them. Maybe I should send a drink to Ott via a servant or find the kitchen and plant the berries in a dish. But what if someone else got them?
I thought of the movies. The scripts were always so clever like Mrs. Doubtfire putting pepper on Pierce Brosnan’s dish. Real life was nothing like that. Real life. This was my life: A ridiculous wannabe knight who was really a fifteen-year-old from the twenty-first century. No more pretend. Jimmy’s dad’s game had transported me six hundred years into the past. For good.
I grabbed the solitary oil lamp and walked around the bed. Something sparkled along the wall. On a shelf stood my sneakers. Next to them, lined up like trophies, were my wallet and the broken watch, the items, Ott had stolen when he’d taken me and Bero prisoner in the chicken coop. I wondered what Ott thought of the watch or the picture ID and Euros in my wallet.
Without a second thought, I slumped on the straw-covered floor and yanked off my straps and boots. I’d had enough dress-up. From now on I’d wear my Nikes no matter what anyone said. Then I stuck the wallet and watch underneath my vest.
I sighed as I walked toward the exit. I’d have to come up with a different plan to poison Ott. Werner and his men would soon show up at the barn. I had to hurry.
A noise made me freeze in my tracks. The outer door opened and Ott’s drunken voice spoke, “Don’t fret, Marianna, just a little kiss. In here, where they can’t see us.”
“But Master Ott, I’m soon to be wedded,” a girl said.
I scooted under the bed nearly upsetting the chamber pot. Disgusted I crawled away, my gaze falling on the boots I’d left sitting in front of the bed. I yanked them underneath just as two pairs of feet appeared.
“Of course, dearest. Not a soul will know. You won’t deny your master a little gift for his name day?” Ott’s voice was dripping with lust. “Sit here with me.”
“I have to help the cooks serve sweet cakes and fruit.”
The bed above me creaked. It sounded like a wrestling match. The girl’s dress was being pushed up and a pair of bare legs dangled over the edge.
“Please,” the maid urged. “I must return to the kitchen.”
“Just a little kiss,” Ott slurred.
I peeked out. A pewter mug had appeared on the nightstand. Ott had brought his drink. Ever so slowly, I inched toward the edge of the bed. Above me the wrestling continued.
“They have plenty of help. I’ll vouch for you.”
I fished for the cloth packet inside my vest. Now was my chance. The place stunk of moldy straw and other stuff I didn’t want to think about. I struggled to keep my head raised. The light barely reached and I counted out five berries. Then I extended an arm in search of the mug. If Ott was looking at his drink right now he’d see a hand. Quickly, I dropped the berries.
“You will not take my virtue?” the girl whimpered. “My groom will not like it.”
Instead of answering, Ott was panting. “Why don’t you lie still?” He sounded irritated. “Try a taste of the wine. It is delicious.”
I held my breath as the cup disappeared from view.
“I’m forbidden to drink during work,” the girl said.
“Fine then. I’ll finish it.” Gulps echoed, then a burp. “Mmmh, didn’t know this was fruit wine. These berries are sweet.”
The mug slammed on the table.
“Now, where were we?”
“Please, Master Ott. I want to go.”
“Soon.”
I had heard enough and crawled toward the bottom end of the bed. The curtains would hide my escape. Ott was busy anyway.
Ducking low, I tiptoed toward the exit when a scream rang out, followed by a shuffle and Ott cursing. Just as I opened the door, I h
eard movement behind me. I looked over my shoulder as the maid ran past me, followed by Ott whose hair stood in all directions and who was hastily yanking up his tights.
Our eyes met. Despite the darkness, I saw the flash of recognition.
“You! I knew you were no knight.” Ott’s voice was full of loathing.
“Better that than a defiler of women,” I shouted. Ott’s eyes narrowed to slits as he jumped forward. Despite his drunkenness he was agile and fast.
I turned and ran, my legs feeling as if they were moving in slow motion. I tugged open the outer door and jumped down the stairs, overtaking the maid. Ott wasn’t far behind. He’d obviously forgotten the girl, his hate for me more important.
I headed past the entrance of the great hall, then outside. My heart pounded in my neck. As I raced toward the stables I remembered Werner and his men. Surely, they’d assembled by now. If I led Ott to them, they’d be found out. Ott would alert his mother who’d send notice to Schwarzburg. Knight Werner would be pissed that I had given them away.
I swiped right toward a series of small outbuildings. Few torches burned and I had trouble seeing the ground. All it took was a fall and I’d be toast. Ott continued to chase. In fact, he was gaining on me because I didn’t know where I was going. Sure enough, there was the outer wall. I was at the opposite side of the main gate now and had to turn back.
Ott’s steps rang loud in my ears. “I got you now.”
I felt myself yanked to a stop, then thrown to the ground. I turned to push Ott away. His rat face was close, his eyes black with rage. He bared his teeth as his hands took hold of my neck and squeezed. I kicked and bucked, but Ott weighed at least fifty pounds more and his heaviness was crushing. The alcohol and the lifelong sword training had given him the strength of a prize-fighter. I saw stars as the oxygen was leaving my lungs.
Time slowed. Ott’s face turned fuzzy around the edges, then blurred. I had no air. The fingers gripped with the precision of death, cold and steely. In a flash of recognition I knew that Ott had done it before.
Then the hands let go. At first, I thought Werner or Enders had come to my rescue, but there was nobody. Ott had grabbed his own throat, sniveling in agony. His eyes rolled as he sucked air.
I lay still, concentrating on the task of breathing, the air cutting painfully through my windpipe. The lack of oxygen in my body was taking its toll. I turned sideways and struggled to stand. My body felt sluggish and refused to follow. I slumped back on my elbows.
In front of me a spectacle unfolded. Ott was trying to kneel, but his legs didn’t obey. He pulled at his neck, then wiped his eyes as if his limbs were being moved by a puppeteer. Then he started to groan. He finally made it upright, only to buckle forward, his hands on his stomach whimpering anguish. I forced myself to sit. I had to leave but I couldn’t.
“I can’t see,” Ott cried. His arms flailed and he stumbled a few feet.
With Ott staggering sideways, I finally came to. I got up just as Ott fell over a second time. He writhed and curled into a ball. Despite the lack of light, I saw Ott’s face glisten with sweat. He was panting. His chest heaved, wheezing sounds like bellows with holes. I turned to leave. I was getting scared. Maybe Luanda had been wrong. Ott looked like he could die. I took off past the outbuildings toward the barn, the last sound behind me a howl of hatred and pain. “I’ll kill you…and your whore.” Then it turned quiet.
I sighed when I saw the barn, Ott’s voice echoing in my ears.
“Where’ve you been?” Enders hissed. “The Lord and his men have gone. You’re late. We must haste.”
“Had to do something,” I mumbled, catching my breath. “Let’s go.”
Enders looked at my feet. “Where are my boots?”
I shrugged. “I’ll get new ones.” I climbed on the horse, a much easier feat without armor. I wanted to feel happy. I’d finally defeated Ott. Instead I felt dread creeping up my spine.
If Ott didn’t die, I had just made a deadly enemy.
Chapter 34
It was awesome how Enders dashed through the woods despite the darkness, while still being able to hold the reins of the horse and find his way. Just staying in the saddle was hard enough as tree limbs smacked me in the face and the horse scrambled up and down paths.
At last, Enders slowed. I had no idea how much time had passed because I was reliving Ott’s reaction to the poison, how his eyes had bulged and he’d panted. Luanda had talked about hallucinations and retention of urine and constipation. He’d be one sick jerk for a while. Served him right. I shuddered thinking of Ott’s threat, the hatred in his voice. I had no doubt, he would make good on it if he had a chance.
“Shsh,” Enders murmured. He stopped the horse and we stood listening. I only heard the wind overhead, moving tree limbs with invisible fingers. To my right I noticed a low glow between the trees. Enders leaned closer. “We’ll go around,” he whispered.
We turned back and left the trail. I cowered low in the saddle as we walked into the thick brush, thinking what would happen if Schwarzburg’s men found us. The horse never stopped while Enders sensed his way forward. The ground fell sharply, but the horse never lost its footing. I was amazed when the bulk of castle Hanstein appeared on my left. We’d come from the other end, squeezing close to the rock.
A single torch burned near the back gate.
“Who goes there?” the guard said.
“Max and Enders,” I whispered. I slid off the horse, glad to feel solid ground under my feet.
The guard waved. “Make haste.”
“Did Lord Werner arrive?” I asked.
“Yes, everything is prepared. I’ll lock down now,” the guard said. As we walked toward the portcullis, I thought I saw shadows along the outer walls. Like the rock of the walls they were one with their surroundings—waiting.
While Enders hurried into the barn, I stopped in the courtyard. Lord Werner was giving last minute instructions to a group of men who carried crossbows and long-handled axes. They looked fearsome in their chainmail and leather tunics.
“Take your positions,” Werner said. “May Gott be with you.”
The men grumbled something and melted into the shadows of the outer bailey.
Werner strode toward me. “I see my loyal knight, Sir Dagonet, has joined us.”
“Yes, My Lord. I’m afraid I’m not much good on a horse.”
“Which makes us wonder how you could’ve traveled so far through the lands,” Werner said, his blue eyes flaming with mockery.
“I know this doesn’t make much sense. It doesn’t to me, either,” I stumbled. But the Lord von Hanstein raised his hand to cut me off. “No time right now, brave Max. Fear not. I thank the Lord for your emergence however curious it may be. The hour demands my fullest attention. We shall discuss it later, what say you?”
Somehow relieved I nodded. “What can I do?”
“We are prepared. Take cover.” With that Werner marched toward a small group of knights, his leaders.
“Max.” Juliana came running from the great hall, her hair flowing like a veil behind her. “You’re safe,” she panted while throwing herself into my arms. I breathed a deep sigh into her mane and held her. Amazing how she made me feel alive. Surely, Lancelot couldn’t have felt more contented when he courted Guinevere.
“What happened?” she said, her face inches from mine. I wanted to kiss her. And when our eyes met again, I did just that. I forgot everything but her lips on mine, her body pressed to my chest. At that moment I was ready to face a thousand Otts and five Schwarzburgs.
“Whenever you can detach yourself from my sister, tell us about your quest,” Bero said. “Your loins must ache you badly that you cannot wait.”
I blinked, returning to earth. It never failed—Bero at his best.
“Good to see you, too,” I said, though I couldn’t suppress a grin and punched Bero in the arm.
“I hear you’re Sir Dagonet, now,” Bero smirked.
“I had to come up with
something,” I said. “Let’s go to the barn. I want to lose the rest of the armor.”
While I peeled out of the remaining disguise and told my tale, Bero, Juliana and the entire entourage of squires sat listening. The barn was deathly quiet as I recounted meeting Ott, checking the rooms and planting the poison.
“What did you give him?” someone asked.
“Where did it come from?” another voice said.
“He’s merely uncomfortable for a few days,” I said. “Luanda helped me.”
Bero stared at me. “Now he will be a deathly enemy,” he mumbled. “You should’ve finished him.” Without another word he got up and left.
I shook my head. Bero didn’t understand. Life came and went easy in the Middle Ages. It was a different story in the twenty-first century. It was murder.
A low whistle sounded from the entrance of the barn.
“They’re coming. Take your positions.”
Everyone scrambled and I found myself alone with Juliana. I moved closer, holding her to me.
“You’re trembling,” I whispered.
“What if the Duke succeeds?” she said.
“He won’t,” I said. “Not with Lord Werner here.”
With a sigh she buried her head against my shoulder. “I wish I were this confident.”
“How is Lady Clara?”
Juliana looked up, wiping her eyes. “She’s better, but the cold and damp make her bones ache and she has this terrible cough. I made pine needle tea. It seems to help a bit. My Lady thinks Gott is punishing her for her sins.”
“She needs a steam bath,” I said.
“What?”
“Next time I’m at Luanda’s I’ll ask her about some good herbs. You put oils like peppermint or lavender into boiling water. Then you breathe the steam. It helps break up the crud and heal the lungs.”
Juliana stared at me. “How do you know so much? Luanda is a witch. Are you not wary of her? And you act as if you were a doctor, a Merlin with secret spells.”
I sighed. She didn’t know the half of it. “I’ll try to explain sometime.”
“Listen.” Juliana had stopped rubbing my forearm. “What was that?”
Escape from the Past Page 24