Wolfgang and the others halted. One of their fellow soldiers set fire to the wood bridge.
As the smoke billowed, the captain of the guard clapped Wolfgang on the shoulder. “Good fighting,” he grunted.
“How many did we lose?” Wolfgang’s jaw twitched as he fastened his gaze on the captain.
“Not sure. One, at least.”
Mulan felt slightly numb. A man, one of the men she’d met and conversed with perhaps, had lost his life near her. And it could very well have been her—if Wolfgang had not intervened.
But she was a soldier. She must think like one. At the very least, she’d have to push any thoughts of pity, fear, or squeamishness aside and think them later.
Wolfgang was staring down at her. “Good thinking, tripping those men like that.”
His brown eyes were soft, sending a warmth all through her middle—but only for a moment. His jaw stiffened as he gave her a crooked frown.
“And good work not getting killed in your first battle.”
“What are you talking about?” Another man came up behind them and slapped Mulan on the shoulder. “This man saved your life.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be fighting, not watching us like a little girl at a miracle play?” Wolfgang scowled at the man.
The man bristled. “I had just dispatched my man. Left him gurgling on his last breath.”
Mulan’s head felt light, and her vision went a little dark. She breathed in and out, focusing on a tree in the distance. Pretty tree . . . It would be prettier in the spring, no doubt . . .
“Your first battle?” The man leaned over to peer into her face. “Good work!” He laughed and slammed his big hand into her back—a friendly pat, though it nearly sent her to her knees.
Mulan straightened, focusing her mind on Wolfgang’s chest—very broad—and the new man’s face—very pockmarked—and the grass—very green. But they couldn’t keep away the memory, the feel of her blade entering under the soldier’s arm where the breastplate ended, the slicing of his flesh as the sharp blade penetrated his mail shirt.
Tree. Wolfgang’s chest. The man’s pockmarks. Andrei.
Andrei. Thank goodness Andrei was here. He was gazing at her with a look of half caution, half fear. He seemed about to speak, but Wolfgang took a step toward her.
“Thank you. You did . . . help. With those two.”
“Well, you saved me a moment before that, or I would be dead myself.”
“All in a day’s fighting.” Wolfgang’s face cracked into a smile.
Her heart tripped over itself at his masculine chin and jawline. So handsome.
He reached his hand toward her. She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. She held out her own hand and he clasped her arm. She mimicked the action and clasped his. Then he let go and took a step back.
“It’s always a good fight when we rout the Teutonic Knights and send them retreating,” the man said, first facing Mulan, then turning to Wolfgang. “And I wasn’t talking about how he saved you. What about the way he climbed that mountain face when no one else even considered it? He scaled that wall like a tree squirrel and saved the castle. They were just about to break through the door when he led us all in firing the arrows that stopped them. Very brave.” He nodded.
Several other soldiers had gathered while he was talking and they raised a cheer. “Mikolai the Lithuanian!”
Andrei’s eyes were glowing. Mulan wasn’t sure where to look. In her gruffest voice, she mumbled, “We all fought bravely.”
But the next thing she knew, two burly men were lifting her up. They sat her on their shoulders and carried her toward the castle gatehouse where the horses were waiting.
Her heart was thumping hard. O God, don’t let me fall. The ground was a long way down.
How could they make a hero out of her when she’d nearly died? Would have died if not for Wolfgang. He was the hero. He knew how to fight with a sword, was brave and noble, leaping to her aid when he didn’t even like her.
How he would hate her if he knew her secret.
The soldiers continued to cheer and laugh like men who had consumed too much strong drink. They all seemed to want to touch her. Some of them grasped her leg and shouted, while others were tall enough to slap her on the back. What an awkward place to be! But her fear was somewhat assuaged by the fact that they all thought she was a man.
When they placed her feet back on the ground, Captain Bogdan was calling and waving to her. Wolfgang stood beside the captain.
“Mikolai, Duke Konrad wishes to meet you and Wolfgang. We are expected at the castle now.”
One of the duke’s guards stood by waiting. Should she prepare her hair? She glanced down at her garments. Shirt and leather gambeson soiled with dirt and blood. Hose and shoes covered in dust, and everything baggy and hanging awkwardly. Her face would be covered in dust and dirt as well, her hair scraggly and grimy, half out of the leather thong holding it, but at least she couldn’t be mistaken for a woman.
Still, as she walked with Wolfgang and Captain Bogdan, following Duke Konrad’s guard, she wished she could wear a pretty dress, have her hair washed and arranged with flowers, before meeting her first nobleman—a duke, no less. But then again . . . she was meeting him as a warrior, a soldier who had fought well and helped save him and his castle and his people.
She lifted her chin and prayed she would not do anything embarrassing, like stumble over a pig and fall into a puddle on the floor.
The entrance hall of the castle was beautiful, with intricate, variegated designs worked into the floor and walls using colored stone. Huge fixtures loaded with candles hung from the ceiling as she and Wolfgang were ushered into the castle’s Great Hall. The duke’s colors and coat of arms hung on the wall in the form of banners and flags alongside shields and swords and battle-axes. Carved wooden panels graced the wall at one end of the long room. There, on a raised dais, a gray-haired man sat on a throne-like chair, dressed in armor.
He motioned them forward. The guard bowed and went to stand by the door, while Wolfgang and Mulan accompanied the captain to a few paces in front of the duke. Captain Bogdan and Wolfgang knelt and bowed. Mulan did the same, watching Wolfgang out of the corner of her eye for her cues.
“Captain Bogdan, I have heard the stories of the exploits of these two soldiers. And now I wish to know their names.”
“Your Grace, allow me to present Wolfgang Gerstenberg, son of Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim. And this is Mikolai, son of Mikolai, the Lithuanian, faithful soldier of liege lord Butautas.”
Wolfgang remained on one knee, bowing before the duke in his polished armor.
“Rise.”
The duke was probably thirty years older than she was, but she liked his face. Wrinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes, and he had not shaved in a couple of days, with gray whiskers showing on his chin and jaw.
“Thank you for coming to our aid, for your bravery.” His voice was solemn. “Wolfgang, I knew your father and grandfather. The Dukes of Hagenheim have been our friends and allies these fifty years. I met with your grandfather on three different occasions, and he was a good friend of my father’s. And I have met with Wilhelm on two occasions, and he impressed me very much with his integrity and piety. Your father is a good man.” The duke studied him for a moment, tilting his head just slightly. “You look like him, I think.”
Wolfgang bowed. “I am grateful you remember my father. He is a good man.”
“And you, Mikolai. I believe I actually met your father as well, once when we were fighting with Butautas’s men near the Lithuanian border. I remember him as a very strong, hard-fighting soldier. Rusdorf, who is the grand master of the German Order of Knights now, was only a commander then, but Paul von Rusdorf had a particular dislike for your father.”
“My father?”
“Yes. It was his healing salve that he said his wife made for him. Rusdorf and his men were fighting, they said, to convert the heathen Lithuanians to Christ, but it was only a pre
text to get revenge on their leader, King Vytautas, and take over the land. Rusdorf had injured many of our soldiers, but they were able to fight again soon afterward, and he found himself facing the same men he had wounded, sometimes only one day later.
“When he demanded what sort of pagan magic they were using to heal the men, someone told him, ‘It is the healing salve of Mikolai the Lithuanian.’ Rusdorf was furious, and he promised to reward any man who was able to capture Mikolai. But no one did. I’m sure you have heard this story.”
“My father’s attendant, Andrei, told me of it.” Though Mulan had always considered her mother to be the hero of that story. Which might be why she’d never heard her father tell it. He never complimented her mother.
But Andrei said the Teutonic Knight was even more furious when he discovered the salve was created by a woman healer. He was known for saying that women were the devil’s favorite instrument for doing evil and working pagan magic.
“Is your father among your company?”
“No, Your Grace. He died and was buried two weeks gone. A sickness.”
“I am sure he would be proud of you.”
Her mother’s despondent face came to mind, standing before her father’s grave, and tears sprang without warning to Mulan’s eyes. She could not be seen crying! Men did not cry. Her heart thumped hard and she took a deep breath.
“It is good to meet God after having been a faithful soldier in this life. I am grateful for faithful soldiers such as yourself, your father, and Wolfgang here.”
Mulan did her best to concentrate on the duke’s words and dismiss the sad memory. Where did those tears come from anyway? She’d told herself she would not mourn her father’s death, and indeed, she didn’t weep for him, even when her mother did. But thankfully, her fear and awe of the duke in front of her helped her forget what had made the tears threaten, and the salt drops soon dried up.
CHAPTER 6
Steffan should have been fighting alongside him. They’d talked many times as boys about the battles they would one day fight together, attacking and defending castles, rescuing fair maidens in distress, making their own names famous. But Wolfgang was no longer sure what he wanted, and making his own name famous seemed foolish now. He suddenly wanted a nobler goal than that.
The duke was talking to Mikolai about his father. Wolfgang’s heart went out to the boy, whose voice hitched when he spoke of his father having died only two weeks before. Thankfully, the duke didn’t seem to notice, or at least he didn’t call attention to it.
“You must stay for a small feast tonight, to celebrate today’s victory. Perhaps soon we will drive the Teutonic Knights and their mercenary soldiers from our Polish homeland forever, and then we shall have a celebration the like of which has never been seen. Now we must be glad for even the smallest victory, to keep up the men’s spirits, as many of my best men have fallen.”
“You are very gracious to include us. And may God so will that your enemies be driven from Poland forever.”
“I thank you.” He nodded solemnly. “You may bathe now and prepare yourself for the feast. I have arranged for my servants to give you whatever you need.” Duke Konrad motioned with his hand, and a guard stepped forward and escorted them out and down the corridor.
A bath would be quite a blessing after being in battle and away from home for so long, sleeping every night on the ground. But when he glanced over at Mikolai, his face had gone pale.
As they walked he whispered, “Are you well?”
Mikolai stared at him a moment. “Of course. Yes. Perfectly well.”
But he still looked as if he had just been told he was going to the executioner instead of to a bathing room.
Mulan’s stomach turned flips at the thought of taking a bath. Would she be allowed to bathe in private? She knew these wealthy people often bathed together, and certainly always had their servants attending to them even in their baths.
This was not how she’d wanted to end her soldiering.
They entered a small room that contained a hearth and two wooden tubs large enough for a man to sit in and stretch his legs part of the way out. Two servants, both female, were pouring water into the tubs. They looked up, curtsied slightly, then scurried out of the room, leaving drying cloths hanging beside the tubs and two sets of clean clothing.
Glancing desperately around the room, Mulan spotted a tall, freestanding screen fitted with a large tapestry. Could she somehow hide behind that screen while she disrobed? Her cheeks heated.
“Why don’t you go ahead and bathe?” Wolfgang was taking off his leather gambeson. “I need to visit the garderobe. And I think I’ll see if I can procure some food from the kitchen.”
“But I thought we were invited to a feast?”
“Yes, but it will be an hour or two at least— Oh, here’s a servant.”
An older woman came in the open door and curtsied. She spoke and Mulan strained her ears, but she couldn’t make out what the woman was saying. It must have been a Polish dialect or accent that she wasn’t familiar with.
Wolfgang answered her. “Can you show me the way to the garderobe? And then could you be so kind as to fetch us a bit of bread and butter?” He smiled at her as if she were a woman of dignity and honor.
The woman began chattering, smiling, and nodding. Wolfgang started to follow her.
“Wait.”
Wolfgang and the servant turned to look at her.
“I don’t understand,” Mulan said under her breath.
“Don’t understand?”
“What she said. What is she saying?”
“Oh, she asked if there was anything we would be needing. Now she’s taking me to the garderobe.”
“Well, could you tell her I don’t need anything and please not to come back until after I’ve had my bath?”
Wolfgang smiled slightly and nodded. “If you wish.”
Mulan breathed a sigh as they left the room, the woman chattering away, but she lurched toward the screen and dragged it across the floor until it completely shielded one of the tubs. She snatched up half the drying cloths and the smaller set of clothing and tossed them on the floor by the tub. Then, huddling behind the tapestry, she threw off her clothes and jumped into the tub.
The water was almost too warm. Would she be scalded? But as she eased herself down, her skin grew used to the heat. She sat on the bottom, which was covered with waxed leather to keep the water from seeping through the cracks, and leaned back.
The water came up to her neck, and she was able to tuck her knees under the water. She closed her eyes, soaking in the heated bath.
If only she could take her time and enjoy it.
Her eyes popped open and she caught sight of the hunk of soap on the floor beside her. She used it to scrub herself, every moment fearing someone would enter the room and find her there. Should she take the time to wash her hair? It seemed worth the risk, and Wolfgang was kind enough not to come around the screen if she asked him not to. He would think she was a shy boy unwilling to be seen by the woman servant, matronly as she appeared. Hopefully he wouldn’t suspect the real reason behind her modesty.
She dunked her head underneath the water and rubbed her scalp with the soap. She moved fast and dunked her head again, using her fingertips to massage all the soap out. As soon as she finished, she stood, let the water roll off her, grabbed a drying cloth, and wiped her body. She wrapped another cloth around her hair, stepped out, and snatched up the clothes that had been supplied to her.
They were so small! The hose and shirt would fit much more snugly than the ones she had been wearing, and her thick, heavy gambeson was too soiled to wear to a feast. She eyed the other set of clothes, obviously meant for Wolfgang, longing to take them instead. But it would be embarrassing when Wolfgang returned and all he had to don were the garments that were too small for him. He would demand she swap with him.
No, she couldn’t do that.
So she pulled on the tight hose, her damp fingers shakin
g. Then she drew the shirt over her head. She tugged on the bottom. It barely covered hers. She’d have to be careful not to raise her arms. Someone would surely notice she was curvier than a man would be. At least she was not well-endowed on top, and the shirt was loose enough not to show anything. Still, she’d be nervous about the shirt getting drawn tight across her chest.
Lord, help me.
She took a deep breath and looked down at herself. With any luck, no one would notice she was in any way womanly.
But her hair! She’d nearly forgotten. Rubbing it vigorously with the drying cloth, she searched for her leather hair string. Her hair was short, but Andrei had said, “You have to keep your hair tied back.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Trust me. You look too much like a girl when it’s not.”
Her face was also clean now. Anyone could see, if they peered closely enough, that she had no whiskers on her face. None. At all.
Her hands began to shake again when she didn’t see the leather thong anywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut. Where had she taken it off? Or had it fallen out somewhere?
She went over to where her dirty clothes lay on the floor, snatched them up one by one, and shook them. Then she saw it lying on the colorful tile floor.
She huffed a sigh of relief and picked it up.
“Finished already?”
Mulan let out a squeak and spun around. Wolfgang stood staring at her with wide eyes.
Wolfgang halted in midstride. Had he walked in on a woman? No, it was just Mikolai, but with his wet hair hanging down by his cheeks . . . Wolfgang would never want the boy to know he had mistaken him for a girl. He’d probably challenge him to a fight of some sort, and Wolfgang didn’t want to have to defeat him again. But why had Mikolai cried out? Was he so afraid of someone walking in on him? Strange, strange boy.
The Warrior Maiden Page 6