The Warrior Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Where is Mikolai?”

  “I’m taking his place.”

  “Why?”

  “He got sick.”

  “Sick?”

  “Mikolai is dead. I shall fight in his stead.”

  “Do you have experience in battle?”

  “No battles you would have heard of.”

  He frowned.

  “But I’m a fighter, a warrior after my father.”

  “That is true,” Andrei said, opening his eyes wide. “He is quite the warrior.”

  “And I’m eager to battle these fiendish usurpers who are besieging Zachev Castle. Shall we go?”

  Unmoving, the messenger kept staring at her.

  Mulan’s hands trembled, wanting to cover her face.

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen years.” Perhaps she should have said she was younger. Would he believe an eighteen-year-old boy had no hair on his face?

  “What is your name?”

  “Mikolai, named after my father.”

  “You don’t look like Mikolai.” His eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Do you look exactly like your father?” No, don’t antagonize him. “I resemble my mother. She was from Asia.”

  He frowned again. “We have a lot of riding to do before we get to Vilkaviškis. Let us go.”

  Andrei looked relieved and even smiled. Mulan wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved—or terrified.

  Three days later, Mulan and Andrei arrived in Vilkaviškis. Zachev Castle was only a half-day’s ride away, but the allies would meet here and plan their attack on the besieging Teutonic Knights.

  There were so many men and not a single woman. They all stood around talking and scratching themselves. The waiting was making the men restless. So when someone announced an archery contest, the men all shouted and hastened to fetch their bows and arrows.

  Mulan wanted nothing more than to fade into the background out of everyone’s notice, but she should probably mimic what the men were doing, so she went to retrieve her bow and arrows.

  Someone had set up targets on some trees at the edge of the clearing. The men all lined up to shoot. One caught her eye. He was particularly handsome, with wide shoulders and a thick chest, and he had the proud but easy bearing of a knight. His hair was medium brown, thick, not too long, and slightly wavy. He had a strong chin. He was also taller than the fellows around him. But would he be any good at archery?

  The men shot their first arrows. Four or five were clustered together in front of each target, which was at least fifty paces away. The tall, handsome one shot an arrow that struck the very middle of the target. The other four men with him did not do as well, although they all managed to hit the target.

  Another group of men were motioned forward. The winner in each group was allowed to compete again. And once again, the tall, handsome man hit the middle of the target while the others came close but did not strike the center.

  Andrei suddenly appeared at her side.

  “Who is that man there?” She cast a nod in the man’s direction.

  “He is the son of the Duke of Hagenheim.”

  “A knight, then?”

  He shook his head. “He has not been knighted, but he trained with his father’s soldiers. I believe they said his name is Wolfgang.”

  “Should I shoot?” she said quietly to Andrei. “Perhaps no one will notice that I haven’t taken a turn.”

  A few men who had been defeated already looked around, calling for men to come and shoot at the targets. One pointed at Mulan. “You there. Come forth.” He motioned with his hand.

  Mulan stood paralyzed. Finally Andrei nudged her forward and she took a step. She had little choice but to join the first group—the one with the Duke of Hagenheim’s son.

  She stepped up to the spot. The man nodded at her. She nodded back, trying not to stare at him. Would she even be able to strike the target? Her knees were trembling and this contest seemed meaningless. Shouldn’t they save their arrows for the real battle?

  She took a deep breath as two other men stepped forward. Once again, the duke’s son took the first shot. And once again, his arrow struck the middle of the target.

  The next man advanced and his arrow struck a hand’s length from the center, and the third man’s arrow struck the space between those two. Now there was no one left but Mulan. The three men turned their eyes on her.

  Mulan already had the arrow nocked to the bowstring. She pulled it back and aimed carefully, willing her hand not to shake, resting her thumb against her cheek. Finally she let go.

  The arrow flew through the air, a bit too high. But because they were so far from the target, it arced and struck the center, pushing Wolfgang’s arrow sideways.

  Mulan’s heart skipped a beat. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a hush.

  The duke’s son turned to her. “Very good.” He even gave her a tiny smile.

  “Oh, it was just a lucky shot. I’m not that skilled at archery.” Why did she say that?

  His smile vanished and he raised his brows at her.

  The other groups shot their arrows, while Mulan’s insides quaked. All she had wanted was to blend in and be unnoticed. She’d only hoped to hit the target somewhere, not the middle. How could she—?

  “I am Wolfgang.”

  The man had moved closer. Mulan faced him. “I am Mu-Mikolai. Mikolai of Lithuania.”

  He was a whole head taller than she was. Standing this close, would he realize she was a girl? Would he recognize that the darker skin on her jawline and chin was mud instead of facial hair?

  “Well, Mikolai of Lithuania, it looks as though all the winners have been determined in the other groups, but the judges are asking us to shoot again.”

  Another man spoke up, looking straight at her. “Best two out of three shots.”

  “You first,” Wolfgang said.

  A boy had pulled the arrows out of the target and was running back toward them. He handed her the arrow she’d shot.

  She could feel people watching her. All I have to do is shoot two more times, as long as Wolfgang wins both shots. That should be easy.

  “I’ll bet on the short Lithuanian!” someone shouted.

  “It would be amusing to see him defeat the Duke of Hagenheim’s son.” Laughter broke out.

  Mulan couldn’t help but glance at Wolfgang. His jaw twitched, but he kept his gaze straight ahead.

  Her hand shook as she nocked an arrow to the string. Should she deliberately miss the center of the target so he’d think her first shot had been lucky? But something inside her rebelled and wanted to win, to show that she actually was good with a bow. Besides, if she didn’t try, her arrow might miss the target altogether, and everyone would laugh at her.

  Mulan raised the bow and arrow and aimed at the target. The arrow flew toward it and stuck fast just a finger width off-center.

  Without hesitating Wolfgang stepped up, took aim, and struck the very center of the target.

  The crowd let out a few “aahs” and “oohs” of appreciation.

  Mulan took out another arrow. Time to get this over with. But she fumbled and dropped the arrow on the ground. She hastened to pick it up, glad her hand wasn’t shaking visibly.

  “Come on, boy! Show the German how it’s done!”

  Mulan’s stomach sank. The back of Wolfgang’s neck was red. No great love existed between the Poles and the Germans, but they should not goad him. After all, German or not, he was obviously willing to risk his life for them.

  She tried to clear her thoughts and concentrate on her task. She nocked the arrow, lifted the bow to her cheek, one eye closed, and let out the breath she was holding. Pulling the bowstring back even more, as hard as she could, she released the arrow.

  It sailed toward the target, moving straight and sure through the air—and struck so close to Wolfgang’s arrow that it must have loosened the arrowhead from the wood, because a moment later, Wolfgang’s arrow fell to the ground while hers was st
ill protruding from the center.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” The words popped out and she immediately covered her mouth with her hand.

  An equal number of cheers and guffaws erupted from the crowd.

  Mulan lost her breath, unable to take her eyes off the way her arrow had knocked his clean off the target. She had always shown skill with a bow and arrow, but even she was surprised. And she should not have apologized. After all, she was a soldier, Wolfgang was a soldier, and they were competing as equals in a contest.

  Wolfgang stood stock-still, staring at the target, his face a mask of stone. He wouldn’t even look at her.

  After the arrows were removed from the target, Wolfgang grabbed another and stepped up to the mark. He aimed for a longer time than before, and the arrow again struck the very center of the target.

  Good. He would win, and she would make sure of it. She would deliberately miss the target altogether. Her vanity and pride had drawn too much attention to herself, and it was time to remedy that.

  She took her third and final arrow, in a hurry to put an end to this spectacle. She pinched the arrow’s end and lifted the bow, setting the nock against the string. She started pulling the arrow back, but she lost her grip on the bow. In her fumbling she released the arrow. It flew toward Wolfgang. She screamed.

  Wolfgang dodged to the side as the arrow passed only a handsbreadth from his head.

  “Forgive me! I didn’t intend to—”

  “Are you trying to kill me, boy?” He leaned toward her, his hands fisted at his sides.

  Mulan took a step back, wishing she could transform into smoke and disappear. People all around them were shouting and laughing. Wolfgang’s face was crimson and his eyes seemed to flash lightning at her.

  “I didn’t mean to.” But her voice was drowned out by the people around them. Some appeared angry and others laughed.

  Wolfgang glared at her. “Make haste and shoot your last arrow.”

  At least that’s what she thought he said. He seemed to be switching back and forth between the Polish language, which she understood, thanks to Andrei teaching her what he knew and some lessons from the village priest, and the German language, which she did not know.

  She reached for another arrow, blowing out a breath to steady herself, keeping her body and her arrow pointed toward the target. She lifted her bow and tried to aim, but she just closed her eyes and shot.

  The arrow went to the right of the target, missing it entirely. Wolfgang was declared the winner, but some of the men were still laughing at him, describing to each other the look on his face

  when her arrow almost struck him in the face.

  Wolfgang glared as she slunk away.

  Andrei met her with a tentative smile. “You nearly defeated him.”

  “I nearly killed him is what I did.” Mulan covered her face with her hand. “I wonder what the penalty is for shooting out the eye of a duke’s son?”

  “Why are you worrying? He still has both eyes.”

  “At least it’s over.”

  Andrei went to collect her arrows while Mulan hurried to the tent Andrei had set up for them. She crawled under her blanket, covering her head. “God, please let me be invisible.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Tomorrow we leave here and march to Zachev Castle.” Wolfgang’s page brought him his arrows from the final archery match.

  Wolfgang was still clenching his teeth from his encounter with the skinny Lithuanian, Mikolai. Which might explain why, in the final round of the archery contest, the older Polish soldier had defeated him with three near-perfect shots, while Wolfgang had been way off the center mark.

  But it was Mikolai who’d made a mockery of him, knocking his arrow off the target, then nearly shooting him—pretending it was accidental—then missing the target entirely. He couldn’t decide if the boy was intentionally trying to make a fool of him or if he was truly incompetent. Neither boded well for their upcoming battle.

  “But first they’re proposing a sword-fighting competition with practice swords.”

  Good. Wolfgang was even better at sword fighting than he was at archery.

  When he emerged from his tent with his practice sword, he looked around for the young Lithuanian. But before he could pick him out of the men milling about, one of the Hagenheim soldiers, Dieter, came and challenged him.

  They both fought hard. Dieter was younger than Wolfgang and not as strong, as he had a smaller build, but he was tough. Wolfgang was starting to sweat when he managed to pin Dieter’s sword to his chest. A judge ruled Wolfgang the winner.

  He again searched for Mikolai. A soldier walked by with a bloody nose, and another was holding his arm and wincing. Though they were fighting with blunted practice swords, there was still the possibility of serious injury.

  Another would-be opponent came and challenged him to fight. Wolfgang fought four or five opponents—he lost count—and defeated them all. Then he finally spotted Mikolai talking to an even younger boy in the entryway of what he assumed was his tent.

  He could still hear the other soldiers laughing at him when Mikolai’s arrow nearly sliced through his ear. The way everyone had gasped when the beardless little Lithuanian’s arrow knocked Wolfgang’s arrow to the ground. But perhaps what rankled the most was how he had then missed the target entirely, letting Wolfgang win instead of allowing him to earn it.

  Also, soldiers didn’t say they had just made a lucky shot when they bested another soldier. And they certainly didn’t apologize! Inside they might boast and smirk, but they would behave honorably by complimenting their opponent.

  Wolfgang walked with all haste straight through the crowd. When he finally reached Mikolai, he clapped him on the shoulder, hard. “Mikolai, I challenge you.”

  The boy clutched his throat as if in fear. But only for a moment. He stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “I’ll get my sword.”

  He sounded sad, but no matter. He was about to receive instruction on sword fighting—and be sorry he had humiliated a man double his size.

  Mikolai emerged from the tent and plodded forward. He took his fighting stance as they waited for a judge. Soon one came and gave them the signal to begin.

  Wolfgang landed a hard blow on Mikolai’s blunted practice sword, then another and another. The Lithuanian was much less skilled at sword fighting, so Wolfgang held back, not wishing the match to be over too soon, keeping Mikolai on the defensive as he struck blow after blow.

  The young Lithuanian blocked Wolfgang’s strikes, but he was barely moving fast enough. Anyone else might have already struck him in the head, but Wolfgang made sure he gave this upstart a workout. Sweat was making Mikolai’s face shiny, and he stumbled backward. Wolfgang increased the power behind his blows until he had the boy backed up against a tree at the edge of the clearing.

  Time to speed things up.

  Wolfgang struck fast and furiously until Mikolai was holding his sword still, unable to parry.

  Not wishing to break his arm, Wolfgang struck the boy on the side with the broad side of his wooden blade.

  Mikolai didn’t make a sound as he bent over to protect his side. His knees buckled under him but, leaning heavily against the tree, he managed to stay upright.

  The judge declared Wolfgang the winner.

  Victory was sweet as Mikolai straightened, then bowed his head in the customary way.

  “Very good match,” Mikolai said, his voice raspy, as if he could barely breathe.

  Wolfgang only nodded. He probably should tell the boy that he would be slain if he fought like that in an actual battle. Hopefully the captain of their company would recognize how unprepared he was and assign him some other task.

  Mikolai walked stiffly toward his tent. His servant was staring at Wolfgang with lowered brows and narrowed eyes. It was only bruised ribs. He deserved it, too, especially if he couldn’t fight any better than that. But an emotion—one he was all too familiar with—stabbed Wolfgang’s chest.

  Perhaps
he shouldn’t have gotten so angry and taken it out on the boy. He hoped he hadn’t hurt him too badly.

  Mulan moaned as she lay down on her pallet. It was her own fault for not staying hidden inside her tent.

  Her shoulders and arm ached from fending off Wolfgang’s blows, but it was her side that hurt the worst. At least he didn’t draw blood.

  “No more contests.” Andrei shook his finger at her, worry in his eyes.

  His sandy-brown hair was too long, hanging over one side of his face. She would have to remember to cut it when she wasn’t in so much pain.

  “You should not have fought that man. He’s angry with you for what happened with the archery contest. And yet . . . how dare he come and find you to challenge you? Can he not see that he’s twice as big as you? He’s a coward for not challenging someone his own size.”

  “He’s not a coward.” Pain stabbed her as she tried to move herself into a more comfortable position. She lay as still as possible. “He’s a good soldier and was rightfully angry. I shouldn’t have apologized for besting him. Besides that, I nearly killed him with my carelessness.”

  “I still don’t like him.” Andrei’s usually mild expression was twisted into a scowl. “He didn’t have to beat you so badly. Arrogant show-off.”

  “He could have done far worse and no one would have thought the worse of him.”

  “Why are you defending him? I would think you’d be angry.”

  “I’m not defending him.” Mulan tried to shrug but pain racked her side.

  “No doubt he’d be sorry if he knew you were a woman.”

  “But he will never know.” Mulan stared hard at Andrei. “You are not to tell him or anyone else. Do you hear me?”

  “Do you think I’m a fool? I know not to tell anyone.” He folded his skinny arms in front of his chest. “You would disgrace your father’s good name and bring disaster on your mother. Not to mention what the less chivalrous among them might do. But I would defend you.” Andrei was not looking her in the eye.

  Her heart expanded at his sincere words. “You would make a noble knight, Andrei.”

  “I will never be allowed to be a knight.” He picked at the grass, pulling it up by the roots. “I have no wealth or sponsor.”