Beloved Pilgrim

by Christopher Hawthorne Moss

  “Were they all dead?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Not ‘they,’ dear girl. ‘We.’ We were very much alive.”

  “I should not claim exactly that, my dear Gautier. We were starving to death. We were the ones under siege by then. That fool monk insisted the lance was buried in the church, and sure enough, there it was. Everybody was hallucinating something. For the bishop, it was a holy lance. I, for one, was hallucinating a feast served by houris.”

  Gautier made an obscene gesture, then, seeing Elisabeth’s puzzled look, explained, “Virgins the heathens believe will serve them when they go to paradise.”

  “Sometimes I prefer the paynim vision of paradise to our heaven. I would rather lie in an oasis sipping nectar from the valley between a woman’s breasts than be on my knees before Our Lord singing psalms. Can you imagine Bohemond with his terrible voice, singing psalms in the wrong key?”

  Gautier toasted his host. “Mayhap in heaven all can sing like angels.”

  “So who is going?”

  Gautier looked blank. “To heaven?”

  “No, imbecile. On crusade.” Reinhardt picked up the flask of wine from the table and refilled his friend’s cup. When he started to pour some for Elisabeth, he saw her cup was untouched. “Drink, you ugly bitch. Don’t be inhospitable to my guests,” he rasped in her ear.

  She took the cup in her hands and brought it to her lips, glaring at him, but set the cup down as full as it had been before. He growled under his breath.

  Gautier was speaking. “That archbishop of Milan, Anselm or something, is gathering Lombards for a crusade. I have no idea if he is getting any recruits.”

  “Nothing from the Germans? The Franks?”

  Gautier spread his hands. “How should I know? I would not put it past some of the young men who could not go the first time. And I suppose your emperor will want to send someone.”

  “Humph! Well, God help them and the devil take them!” was the baron’s ironic response.

  Elisabeth allowed herself to relax as the two men drank and reminisced. All day she had been on edge, wondering when Reinhardt would demand his matrimonial rights. She swung between crippling fear and violent anger.

  REINHARDT DID not summon her to his bed, not that night, and he was abroad on the lands all of the next day. Elisabeth’s anxiety remained and heightened again as the evening meal was about to begin.

  As she saw Reinhardt partaking of wine at the same pace as before, Elisabeth wondered if she would be alone for one more night. It was little comfort, but it was something. If Reinhardt got drunk enough, perhaps he would not….

  “Well, my dear, it is time for bed. I think under the circumstances, the pomp and ritual before the bedding is unnecessary.” It appeared Reinhardt had shared the delay after their marriage with Gautier, as the man just leered. Reinhardt gave him a brisk nod. “No father or mother here to stop me this time.” He grasped Elisabeth’s hand and stood, dragging her to her feet. She was too stunned at first to resist.

  As they passed down the hall, she started to hold back. Reinhardt spun to face her. “Do not even think of humiliating me before my men. You will get much worse than a bedding.”

  Her mouth agape, she let him lead her out of the hall and up the stairs. He took her to her parents’ old chamber. Entering, he surveyed the servants’ preparations, then ordered them out. He kicked the door shut and bolted it.

  “Take off your clothes,” he commanded. He went to a table and poured himself wine.

  Elisabeth did not move. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and glared at him.

  After a moment he turned and stared mockingly at her. “What? Do you think I will just say, ‘Oh well, if you don’t want to’?”

  “You are going to have to fight for whatever you take,” she growled through bared teeth.

  He took a long draught of the wine, put the cup down, and replied, “Actually, I rather like that idea.” He strode the few feet to her and reached out to grab her.

  In a flash, she had a knife in her hand. He jumped back when she would have stabbed him in the belly. “My God, woman, are you mad?”

  Glaring into his eyes, she watched him shake his joints loose and lean forward as if looking for an opening. He held no knife but nevertheless appeared to spar with her. He feinted, nearly grabbed her wrist with his other hand, then jumped back again as she avoided him. “You are quite the hellcat. I am going to enjoy this immensely.”

  She anticipated his next move, a double feint, but was unable to move fast enough when he grabbed for her and clasped both her hands in one of his. He twisted her wrists, grinning at her sharp cry of pain as she dropped her weapon.

  “Now that’s enough of that,” he said with finality.

  Afterward, she stayed in her awkward position as he reached for the torn clothes on the floor. He tossed them on the bed next to her. “Get dressed and go. I don’t like to share a bed.”

  She grabbed the clothes and, without covering herself, dashed as quickly to the door as the pain between her sticky thighs allowed. She fumbled with the bolt and then shot it open, running out into the corridor half-naked.

  As she reached her own chamber door, Albrecht stepped out from an embrasure. “My lady!” he cried with alarm.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. “Don’t touch me, you bastard!”

  He saw the bruises Reinhardt’s open palm had left on her face, the torn clothing, and the fury in her eyes. “I’ll kill him,” he growled through clenched teeth. Putting his hand to the hilt of his sword, he started to stride down the hall.

  “No!” Elisabeth called after him after a moment’s hesitation. “Come back. Please!” she wailed.

  He slowed and stopped, turning to look at her. The appeal in her eyes drew him back to her. He hesitatingly put out his arms so she could, if she wished, enter them and receive comfort. She stared at the floor and then quietly walked into his embrace. She could not prevent herself from shuddering at his touch.

  REINHARDT USED her again every night he remained at Winterkirche, seemingly oblivious to everything she did to make herself undesirable. She tried to hide, tried to lock herself in her chamber, and even attempted to escape him, but he had men watching her at all times. Her loyal serving-woman, Marta, tried to soothe her, to calm her, but her constant assurances that Elisabeth would grow used to the rough handling only made Elisabeth withdraw further into herself.

  The morning Reinhardt left, she was forced to attend him. She stood hollow-eyed and distracted, causing the man’s soldiers to elbow each other and laugh about how busy their lord had kept the wench. Reinhardt himself was grim but with a subtle air of self-satisfaction. He had made it clear to her that he expected her to quicken with child and to make him wait no longer for a son and heir. She nodded dumbly and watched him mount his horse and ride out of the gates.

  ELISABETH NEVER wanted to return to the hall, but she forced herself to do so the next day.

  Over the ensuing days, Elisabeth tried to go through the motions of keeping house. She quickly discovered that she had little to do. Reinhardt had informed her steward that if he wanted to keep his position, he would now only answer to himself and his representatives left behind to keep an eye on Elisabeth and her possessions.

  Elisabeth went looking for her only remaining ally, fearing Albrecht had decamped along with everyone else in spite of his protestations, a decision for which she would not have faulted him. She turned to go into the hall, only to find herself face to face with Hans, one of Reinhardt’s squires, who was posted to keep an eye on her for his master. The young man’s obscene smile startled her so, she stepped backward. “Hans, remember yourself!” she demanded hotly.

  The man stepped back and made a deep bow. “My lady,” he acknowledged in an ironic voice.

  “Just exactly why did he leave you here?”

  Hans stood up straight and inclined his head. “I am to ‘keep an eye on the feisty little bitch.’ Do not blame me!” he snapped as she li
fted a palm to slap him. “I am just answering your question with the very words your husband used.”

  She scowled and passed him, seeing the amused look he cast after her, a look that slid down her back to her rump, appraising.

  “OH GOOD, you are here,” Elisabeth whispered as she stepped through the stable door and saw Albrecht with Carlchen, his horse, currying his coat in a patch of sunlight. Carlchen was smaller than a destrier, but still big, and chestnut in color.

  The squire did not smile as he looked up, though he did make a short bow. “My lady, how come you here?”

  She went to the gate of the stall, pulled it open, and slipped in alongside the horse. In the stall next to them, Elias’s horse Gauner, a huge gray, nickered and put his nose over to be stroked. She went to him and put her hand on his forehead. “Oh, Gauner, you miss him as much as we do, don’t you?”

  Albrecht continued to move along Carlchen’s side with the currycomb. He waited for Elisabeth to turn back to him.

  When she did at last, she slowly began, “Albrecht, do you still mean to leave here?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

  He sighed. Continuing his task, he replied, “Yes, I must—with your leave, of course. I know the baron’s type, same as most such. Since he knows about Elias and me, I will be dead in no time.”

  Elisabeth stared, uncomprehending. “You really think he would kill you?”

  “It happens all the time.”

  “But you are from a noble family! They would never permit it!” she protested.

  Albrecht’s look was sardonic. “Perhaps, but at the stake or on a gallows is not the only way to be killed. A word in his guards’ ears, and I would be as good as dead. The best I can hope for is that he says nothing of his suspicions to any other knights.”

  Frowning, Elisabeth walked to the other side of the horse, letting her hand trail along its flank soothingly. “Could you go to the new crusade?”

  He stopped brushing the chestnut coat of his horse and leaned back against the stall. “I may have to, my lady. Knights don’t usually take on other knights’ squires. You usually spend a long time with a family. Just as I did… here.” His voice broke and he looked away.

  She could not see him over the large horse’s back, but she heard the emotion in his voice. She too leaned back against the stall, Gauner putting his head over to nuzzle her hair. “Do you think you could find a knight on the crusade?” Her own lips were turned down at their edges with sadness.

  He paused and then said desultorily, “I will have to.”

  “I wish I could go with you,” she began, but a sound at the stable door made both of them look in that direction.

  A fair crop of uncombed hair appeared over the top of the stall gate, and then a supercilious face. “I wondered if I’d find the two of you together somewhere. Just in time, from the look of it.” It was Hans.

  Albrecht rankled. “You are speaking of a lady, churl. Show some respect.”

  Hans pulled the stall gate ajar just enough that he could stand in the gap. “It matters not to me, friend, if you are fucking the wench. I am just doing my job.”

  “Albrecht is a good and chaste fellow,” Elisabeth snapped back, earning nothing more than a derisive snort from the squire.

  “I am sure of it, my lady—as sure as the sun will rise in the west.”

  “You have a filthy mind,” Albrecht said, advancing on Hans. His movements worried Carlchen, who became jittery. Albrecht stopped his progress and turned his attention to calming the animal.

  Hans’s hands were up to ward off any assault, but he dropped them to his side and glanced at Elisabeth with a small bow. “As I said, I don’t care if you spread your legs for all the farmers in the valley, save that it would mean hurt to me if his nibs heard of it. Frankly, I don’t see what the squire sees in you. You are not exactly what they call a toothsome wench. The baron wants the estates and a brat. Once he has those, I think you can be sure he will leave you alone.”

  “Get out of my sight!” Elisabeth shot at him.

  He shrugged and turned at the door, not bothering to close the gate. “Just remember, I will know if you two are alone too long in a private place.” He looked up and around inside the stable. “This is too open a place. I think you will be more circumspect than to rut on the floor in here.” He ducked the flying currycomb and went out.

  Elisabeth came around Carlchen’s head and found Albrecht trembling with fury. She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “What a fool,” she said angrily. “If he only knew.”

  Albrecht looked hard at her. “If he only knew, I would be dead for sure. That’s why I have to get out of here.”

  Elisabeth went pale. “When will you leave?”

  He went out of the stall to retrieve the currycomb, brought it back, pulled the gate shut behind him, and responded, “In a few days. Just long enough to make sure the baron is well on his way.”

  “Where will you go? To join the crusaders, I mean?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose south to Italy. Milan? Venice?” He averted his eyes, and in a hesitating voice, went on, “My lady, I am loath to ask this, but I shall need some help….”

  She looked up, eager. “Anything! What do you want me to do?”

  He turned his back to her. She had to strain to understand his mumbled reply. “I need money, my lady. I have nothing to live on.”

  “Oh, of course.” Elisabeth shook her head. “I can get some, though it will certainly be missed.” She squared her shoulders and said in a rebellious tone, “What do I care if it’s missed? It’s yours, all you need.” She put a finger to her chin. “Or…,” she began. “What about Elias’s armor? And the horse? You could take them, use them, and sell them. Other than the horse, they would not be missed….” Her voice trailed off as she went to where Gauner’s muzzle overtopped the stall. She put a hand on his nose and stroked. “You would be terribly missed, my darling,” she said to him.

  “Let me think about it, my lady. I thank you for your generosity, whatever happens. I hate to leave you behind, but what else can we do?”

  Elisabeth turned her face back to him. Her gaze was unfocused, far away. “I don’t know.” She paused. “Can you meet me in Elias’s chamber after all are abed tonight?”

  Albrecht eyed her warily. “What about Hans?”

  “No, we don’t want him there. Just the two of us,” she said absently, too absent to have taken his meaning. She was deep in thought.

  Hans had a guard on Elisabeth’s chamber door each night. The man sat in the window embrasure across the corridor, but when her chamber door opened, he leaped to his feet, at attention.

  Elisabeth, in her nightrobe, looked out at him. “Here, man, come here!” she demanded imperiously. “The lazy maid forgot to fill this with water. How am I supposed to wash? Get me some water!”

  “But, my lady, I am not to leave my post,” the man protested.

  “Nonsense,” she said, dismissively. “I am not going anywhere. I am half-asleep already. Just go and get it. Or I will make your life hell.”

  He looked about, but no help was at hand, so he stepped forward to take the pitcher she held out. Scowling, he bowed to her and rushed down the corridor.

  She was still standing at the door when he returned. She yawned deeply and took the pitcher but made a disgusted noise when she looked into it. “Where did you get this? The horse trough?” She thrust it back into his arms. “Go to the well by the kitchens. I am not going to wash in filthy water.”

  “B-but, my lady, it does come from the ki—”

  She gave the man a furious glance and turned to go into her chamber. “A liar as well as incompetent. Just do it. Knock on my door when you get clean water.”

  He heard the bolt fall into place as the door thumped shut. Sighing, he went back down the corridor.

  Albrecht was already in Elias’s chamber when Elisabeth slipped in as quietly as she could. She put a finger to her lips to advise silence and leaned her ear to the thick wooden doo
r. After a moment, she straightened and went over to where he stood. She gestured to the settle, and they sat down together.

  “I have an idea,” she began without any preamble. “Why can’t I go with you when you leave for the crusade?”

  Albrecht stared at her, speechless. He finally managed, “How can you? You would be missed.”

  She smiled smugly. “Yes, but if I am not caught, what matters if I am missed?”

  The squire stood and started to pace. “But Hans….”

  “I have a feeling he can be dealt with,” she said with conviction.

  After a few turns around the chamber, Albrecht stopped his pacing. “You are probably right. He is as venal as I have seen a man.” He started walking again, then stopped. “You aren’t planning actually to go on crusade…?”

  “Of course not. I’m a woman, and a noble woman at that. I can hardly be a camp follower, but there’s got to be some way to get out of Reinhardt’s clutches. I will enter a convent before I let him touch me again.”

  “You would make one hell of an abbess,” Albrecht said, “begging your pardon.”

  “Hmm, well, yes, but that’s only as a last resort. Frankly, I don’t know what I will do. I just want to get as far from here as possible.”

  Starting to pace again, Albrecht considered. “How will you get away? You can hardly saddle up and ride off.”

  “Well, you need Elias’s armor, right? You would have to carry it away, and that might be rather difficult to conceal. But what if someone wore it out of the manor?” She awaited his understanding eagerly.

  His pacing stopped abruptly. “You mean—?”

  She nodded. “I will wear it out. Then you can take it after we get wherever we go.”

  Albrecht sat down hard on the edge of the bed, appearing so rapt with her idea he did not realize where he was sitting. “You would have to be disguised anyway to travel without being known. I don’t know if any of the guards Reinhardt left behind would recognize Elias’s armor, if we take the insignia off. Or you could wear a cloak over it.”