Elizabeth of Starland (The Colplatschki Chronicles Book 1)

by Alma Boykin

  “Mr. Kim, call out the parish militia. We,” and he pointed to Matthew and Elizabeth, “found something odd in Wei’s south pasture. I want an active watch, and runners ready if you see any sign of bandits or raiders.”

  The farmer nodded, his expression hard and grim. “I can call twenty, and we’re due to meet with the watch from St. Sabrina’s, so I’ll let them know, your grace.”

  “Good. I do not know how many or when they were by Wei’s, but it was before the most recent snowstorm. Do not try and fight if it is raiders, Mr. Kim,” Aquila warned him. “Just call and watch. There have been at least one raid with Sworn Acolytes of Selkow in the group,” and he stopped as Mr. Kim kissed the blue medallion hanging around his neck and then spat over his right shoulder.

  “We’ll watch and call, unless there’s an attack on us, your grace. I’m not running again and neither are Kyle or Mrs. Falk.” Elizabeth wondered how long a Turkowi would survive if the farmers caught him. Probably a few seconds at most.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kim. We’ll let you get out of the cold and wet.” The three riders left the way they’d come. Elizabeth felt better, and wondered what Lord Armstrong would do in a similar situation. He did not have a militia, only the small household guard. The royal army guarded the borders of Frankonia so well that no noble needed to arm his people, or so the Laurences maintained.

  Brown began acting lame a few kilometers before they reached Starheart. Elizabeth dismounted and walked him the rest of the way. By the time horse and rider reached the courtyard she silently cursed every cobbler who had ever made a pair of riding boots. She handed the reins to one of the stablemen and felt Brown’s legs. He flinched when she ran her hand down the left hind leg. Matthew saw her and came over to see what the matter was. “A bruise at least, my lord,” she told him.

  “Take your time. Mother does not wish to have guests at dinner,” he told her, mimicking Lady Marie’s chilly tones.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Well, she had her own bruises to nurse anyway.

  “Why did you throw yourself off him?”

  She blushed. “I’ve never jumped anything while riding astride, and I did not know what might be on the other side of the fence, under the snow.”

  Someone must have heard her, because she spent the next day under George and then Destefani’s eyes jumping another horse over higher and higher obstacles. Then she tried doing it with a sword or stick in hand. She fell off several times and felt as if she’d been trampled by every equine in the Starheart stables before the guard commander decided she’d suffered enough.

  As she washed off some of the dirt and trimmed her shaggy hair, Elizabeth wondered what the duke intended to do about the cache they’d found. She thought that if she were in charge, she would post watchers in the Landers’ ruin. Then she remembered that anyone with common sense would use the ruin for shelter and cover, including Turkowi raiders. Did the Turkowi have the same dread of Lander artifacts that some Westerners did? Maybe she should have gone into the ruin, despite Matthew’s protests. She turned the problem over and over in her mind. So lost in speculation was she that when Rowena knocked on the door, Elizabeth jumped, closing the hand with the shears in it. “Oh, carp.” She looked at the clump of hair on the floor. “Come in.”

  “Miss Elizabeth, Lady Ann, oh!” She put her hands to her mouth, a horrified look in her eyes. “Oh, miss, what are you doing?”

  “I was trimming my hair. I think now I will be cutting it short,” Elizabeth sighed as she picked up the clump. “You were saying about Lady Ann?”

  “Lady Ann sent me to tell you that you will be dining with her tonight, in her quarters.” Rowena stared at Elizabeth’s ragged hair. “Miss, are you, will you be needing fabric for a headcover?”

  Elizabeth thought about it. “Yes, I believe I will. Some of the light brown linen such as my skirt is made of would be good, if there is any to spare. Thank you for thinking of that.”

  “You are welcome, miss,” and Rowena departed. Elizabeth had given up growling about the maids calling her miss instead of lady. She couldn’t really blame them for trying to stay in their mistress’s good graces.

  Elizabeth finished returning her hair to its customary cropped length. As she gathered the trimmings and tossed them into the small fireplace a thought struck her. She no longer had to wear a cloth head cover. She could wear a wig. Not one of the fancy court monstrosities, but perhaps a smaller one in a color less ugly than her natural shade. She’d heard that one could buy almost anything in Vindobona. Maybe, just maybe, she had enough coin left for a wig. Well, wigs and vanity were the least of her concerns, she reminded herself.

  “There,” one of the guards hissed the three days later. Elizabeth and Matthew peered through the mist, straining to catch a glimpse of the raiders.

  “Yes! Yellow coat, two yellow coats, just below the edge of the hill,” she hissed back. By Godown Himself, she could hardly believe that the Turkowi could be so brazen, attacking in broad daylight with so few people. Or were there few? This could be the probe ahead of a heavy raid-in-force, she reminded herself. She wanted to go after the raiders, but Duke Aquila’s orders were clear: stay put and watch, fight if attacked or if Aquila’s main body of troops needed assistance. Since he had twenty heavily armed cavalrymen with him, plus the infantry militia, they were all chin deep in horse apples if Aquila needed help.

  So Matthew Starland, Elizabeth, and their dozen soldiers watched and waited. The raiders continued past their position, crossing the flank of the hill a few kilometers from Starhart itself. She had to give them credit: the raiders had made magnificent use of the bad weather to cover their incursion, even bypassing farmhouses and a small settlement to get this far into Starland. But one of the militia watchers had seen them, and had sent word to the duke. And now the Starland troops waited, tempers taut, eager to kill or capture the Turkowi raiders. Elizabeth could almost smell their burning desire to avenge so many earlier attacks.

  “Smell?” She did not realize that she’d spoken aloud until Matthew glared at her. She sniffed again. “My lord, what’s burning?” she whispered.

  “Nothing.”

  She inhaled, pulling the cold, wet air into her nose and lungs. “Something is burning. Something nasty,” she whispered. Beside her Michael twisted, trying to look back into the wind. He had the only binoculars in the group and he searched the horizon.

  “The farmstead!” He pointed to a faint area of lighter fog. Now she could see black where black should not be and Elizabeth gulped. Did Aquila see it too?

  “Starland!” A distant voice yelled. Her head snapped around as the main body of Aquila’s men attacked the raiders at the base of the hill.

  Matthew turned and twisted, then got to his feet and began moving in a crouch. “We have to stop them,” and he pointed to the burning farmhouse.

  “My lord, your father’s orders,” Michael protested.

  “They will flank my lord father if we do not stop them,” the young noble snapped. “Come.” Elizabeth got up, hurrying through the drifted snow after Matthew. The soldiers followed.

  It was almost a kilometer to the farmhouse, but the two groups collided sooner. Elizabeth saw movement on the other side of a stone wall and tackled Matthew, dragging him down into cover. He snarled, “What the…?”

  She clamped a hand over his mouth and just pointed. A voice muttered in a strange language and Matthew nodded, eyes narrowing. She lifted her hand and scooted away, pulling her crossbow around from her back and drawing a handful of crossbow bolts from the case on her belt. The men could fight hand-to-hand. She could not.

  Matthew muttered, “We need to draw their attention.”

  She looked back at the grey-clad soldiers behind them, then smiled and took a deep breath. “Aiiiieeeee!” she shrieked. “St. Sabrina save me! Aiiiieeeeeeee!”

  “Selkow korre ta!” A man yelled from the other side of the wall and the fight was on. Elizabeth fell back behind Starland’s men, loading her small crossbo
w as she did. She braced on one knee, waiting until she had an absolutely clear shot. A man wearing a strange helmet with white fabric swirled around it broke clear of the melee and Elizabeth fired. He staggered back, giving her a better target. She pulled the second trigger and a burst of red appeared on his chest. He sank out of sight. Elizabeth cranked as fast as she could and reloaded.

  A hand in a yellow glove grabbed her shoulder and hauled her backwards. She twisted and fired at the shape looming over her. “Ungh!” He collapsed onto her and the crossbow. She fired again before fighting clear of the writhing body. She managed to get her long knife free and waited, watching for movement in case she needed to finish him. Oh damn, oh, Godown help me, oh damn, she panted, once more alert for motion behind her.

  “Starl—argh!” One of the guards lurched back from his fight, clutching his throat. His attacker turned to Matthew, already overmatched by the raider he grappled with. Elizabeth jumped up and ran towards the fight, shifting her grip on the knife like Michael had taught her. She didn’t think she could get through the other man’s armor, but if she could buy time…

  There! She saw her chance and ducked, then dove, slashing at the back of the Turkowi’s leg. She caught him just above the top of his boot, near the knee, and hamstrung him. As he staggered, another Starland soldier attacked. Elizabeth scrambled clear of the fight again, finding two bodies in the process. Godown be with you, may Kiara’s light guide your soul to safety, she prayed, still ducking for cover. She hid behind a haystack and threw up, then forced herself to peer around the snow-covered mound.

  The fight ended with a Starland victory. Matthew and eight Starland soldiers captured two Turkowi. As four of the men secured the prisoners, the others began searching the bodies of the dead enemy. Elizabeth helped the two injured Starlanders as best she could. Lou had dislocated his shoulder, and Elizabeth warned him, “I can put it back but it will hurt.”

  “Do it, my lady,” the short man told her through gritted teeth. She put her hands on his arm and shoulder and pulled it back into place. “Damn it. I though women were supposed to have a gentle touch.”

  “Not when we’re dealing with tough men like you,” she ventured to tease him. “Can you stand?”

  “Yes. Most of the blood belongs to someone else.”

  She found Matthew. “My Lord, do we need to look for the people from the farm?”

  “What?” She pointed, directing him to the smoking building. “Oh shit, yes. Stay here with Michael, Lou, and,” he looked around. “And Joachim. If the prisoners move, kill them.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Elizabeth wiped her crossbow dry as best she could, cocked and reloaded it.

  Matthew Starland and the others returned, their faces pale and grim. “The house and barn are fine. What we saw was a burning haystack and the snow kept the fire contained. But the monsters caught the farmer and his family in the poultry house. Do not go in the farmyard, Elizabeth. That is an order.” The other soldiers nodded their agreement and Elizabeth gulped. She could guess what they’d found.

  “Yes, my lord.” She turned away, facing “her” haystack, and de-cocked the crossbow, reciting the litany for the dead in her mind.

  Elizabeth spent that evening in the chapel at Starhart, praying for the dead and begging forgiveness for having killed two more men.

  The next afternoon Duke Aquila called in all the men who’d been on the raid, and Elizabeth. Exhaustion deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth and Elizabeth suddenly wondered how old he was. He had to be at least forty, riding and fighting as if he were twenty. He’d begun limping heavily and she suspected the cold and tiredness aggravated the pain from the spear point in his hip. “Well done.” He smiled. “Very well done, men. We captured or killed every raider. Unless they had scouts that evaded the militia and the weather both, no one will return to tell the priests or Protector what happened to them.”

  He let the cheers and whistles die before continuing, “We lost the Montre family, all but the two daughters who had gone to help Mrs. Wa with her new twins. After the mourning period ends, I will assign a guardian for the girls, and they will have a marriage portion and inheritance from the farm when the time comes.” Several of the men fingered prayer beads and Elizabeth whispered part of the litany again. She was glad that she had not been one of the ones to tell the girls that their parents, two brothers, and a sister were dead. Duke Aquila had insisted that Matthew go with him to break the news while some of the men and a neighbor woman took care of the bodies. The poor girls did not need to see how their family died.

  “Now the good news.” The duke beckoned George, who dragged a small table and chair over to the side of where Aquila stood, and Lady Ann, who carried a stack of papers and a large book. “The raiders’ weapons, horses, armor, and goods belong to Starland and will be distributed as usual.” His smile grew very broad as he added, “And the Crown’s bounty on Sworn Acolytes will also be distributed. A gold thaler goes to everyone with Matthew’s party, and three thalers to Lady von Sarmas, who sent the Sworn Acolyte to his warm reward.” A few men cheered but Elizabeth shook her head and pointed to Lord Matthew. It had been his idea.

  The smile vanished. “However, because of their disobedience of orders, I am fining Lord Matthew and Lady von Sarmas half a thaler each.” Elizabeth suspected that there would be other punishment as well. Still, two and a half gold thalers meant she could replace her clothes and perhaps get a small wig.

  One of the men raised his hand and called, “Your grace, how many Sworn Acolytes does that make that we’ve killed?”

  “It makes two that I can prove, and I suspect there was a third. There was not enough of him left to identify.” He let the mutters and oaths die down before continuing. “Lady Ann has your share pages. If you think your share is too small, talk to Captain Destefani. If you think it is too large, see me; I will be delighted to correct the error.”

  Everyone laughed and several voices called, “Needing a dowry, your grace?” and “Is she pretty, Lord Matthew?” Matthew flushed and the good-natured cat-calls continued. Elizabeth coughed to hide a smile of her own and wondered if Matthew truly had found a possible bride. She did not envision Lady Marie stepping aside gracefully, or Lady Ann for that matter, and she felt a faint pang for the girl who married into the Starland family. Capt. Destefani caught her eye and gestured for her to follow him and the duke. She gathered her skirts and walked as quickly as was decent, following them to the duke’s private office.

  Aquila von Starland sat heavily and Elizabeth caught the flicker of pain on his face. Destefani stood at the duke’s shoulder and both men studied Elizabeth. She wondered which of her mistakes they were going to reprimand her for. Several came to mind, including tackling Matthew and not paying attention and letting the Turkowi soldier come behind her. If he’d had a knife she’d have died, and she shivered again.

  “Elizabeth von Sarmas, in a perfect world I would be concluding marriage negotiations with your father, Godown rest his soul,” Aquila told her. “This is not that world. I received word from Vindobona yesterday, asking that I bring you to court. Lady Marie will not be pleased.”

  There was nothing she could say, so Elizabeth just nodded. She’d taken to avoiding all contact with Matthew, Aquila, and Lady Ann. Perhaps that was why Godown had made her without social skills, she thought. She couldn’t cause offense at a party or court event if she stayed out with the army or in the riding ring.

  “For that reason, among others, I am sending you ahead with George and a group of servants. They will help the staff in residence at Starland House open and prepare things for the rest of us. You will have a letter of introduction to the Archivist of the Imperial Military Library.” Elizabeth all but bounced on her toes and she felt an enormous smile spreading across her face. Aquila smiled back. “I believe that will keep you out of mischief until the larger party arrives.”

  “And since you seem to be a magnet for Turkowi, Lady von Sarmas, I’m sending extra weapons and a
letter to the head of the Imperial Stud. You need to learn to ride a warhorse,” Destefani said.

  “Warhorse?” The word came out in a squeak.

  “Yes,” Aquila informed her. “Think of it as your punishment for disobeying my orders.”

  “Yes, your grace.” Her thighs and stomach hurt at the very thought. She’d have terrible bruises from falling off in armor, too.

  Destefani chuckled, “My lady, it’s not that bad. Warhorses only kick what’s around them, not what’s on them.”

  Chapter 6: Vindobona

  What a huge city, Elizabeth gasped, exhaustion and bruises forgotten for the moment. They’d stopped at the crest of the last hill, facing the city. Vindobona, surrounded by high walls of red and gray stone, sat at the bend of the Donau Novi River. The low winter sun’s light caught the roof of the tower on St. Gerald’s cathedral, making the copper shine like fire. The cathedral dominated the central part of the city, its one mighty tower rising well above the other churches and buildings within the walls. Elizabeth imagined that she could see chunks of ice on the dark river, along with the bright-colored boats still dotting the water. From where she stood, the land sloped down to the Donau Novi, then spread out into the northern plains, the vast lowland between the Dividing Range and the Triangle Mountains and the Northern Ocean. More bits of roof gleamed in the afternoon sun and Elizabeth asked, “What are those?”

  “That’s the Imperial Palace and the churches of St. Kiara, St. Michael, and St. Brigit.” George nodded before nudging his horse back into a steady walk. “Day is almost gone, my lady,” he reminded her.

  “Indeed.” She tapped Snowy and the mule began walking down hill, his hooves making a dull “clop, clop” on the smooth, black surface of the road. More Lander technology, or so George had told her. The road dated to just before the Great Fires, and the survivors had been able to patch it using a secret material, keeping the smooth, easily cleared way intact. She wondered if there were any such relics in Frankonia. She could not recall reading or hearing about any, but then Sr. Amalthea had taken great pains to protect her charge from being contaminated by such impure knowledge and the books in Lord Armstrong’s library could only fill in so many holes.