The Warrior Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Either way, I believe God will fight on our side.” Mikolai’s tone and expression showed quiet sincerity.

  Perhaps Wolfgang could learn from a faith like his.

  They entered a stand of trees that were relatively unscathed from the fire. They walked for a while longer, until they could see another open space ahead.

  “I think this is where Captain Bogdan meant for us to hide.” Wolfgang searched the limbs overhead. “If we can climb one of these trees, we can lie in wait for soldiers, should they pass this way to attack again.”

  Mikolai secured his longbow by looping his arm through it and hanging it on his shoulder, then started up the nearest beech tree, his hands and feet darting from one limb to the next.

  Wolfgang gazed up at him.

  “Aren’t you coming up?” Mikolai grinned.

  “Easy for you. You scampered up that tree as if your father were a tree squirrel.”

  Mikolai’s grin grew wider.

  Wolfgang was much bigger and heavier. But he couldn’t let Mikolai laugh at him either. So he grabbed a limb and hoisted himself up, finding a foothold in the crook between the trunk and two branches. It took him much longer, especially hampered as he was by his injured shoulder, but finally he was as high as Mikolai. He settled himself as best he could on a branch and leaned back against the trunk.

  “Not bad.” Mikolai looked as comfortable as if he were propped up on a feather bed. “I’ve heard bears can climb trees. If my father was a squirrel, yours must have been a bear.”

  “Very amusing.” After the climb, his shoulder was burning like coals of fire. He pressed on it through his gambeson and shirt, hoping it wasn’t bleeding again.

  “Is your shoulder paining you?”

  “Not too much.” Maybe some conversation would take his mind off the pain. “What made you wish to become a soldier like your father?”

  The boy chewed his lip, as if he didn’t know how to answer.

  “You’ve obviously had a lot of practice with a longbow. You were trained to be a soldier like you father, tak?”

  “Ah, well . . . yes. But my archery skills also come from the fact that I’ve been providing for my mother’s table since I was a child—birds and badgers and small animals. I even shot a wild boar that was about to attack my horse. Also . . . I didn’t want to stay in my little village my whole life. I wanted to see other lands. But mostly I wanted to provide for my mother. That’s why I became a soldier.”

  “And your mother is alone now? Did she not mind you going away to fight?”

  Mikolai’s mouth twisted and he was looking down at his hands, over into the trees, anywhere but at him.

  “I only ask because my mother didn’t want me to come here and fight, but my father convinced her that sons want to be active, not staying at home.”

  “I imagine my mother felt the same, but she would have lost her house, would have had nowhere to live if I had not come to fight for our lord. But I’m sure she would have liked to have me close. She wished me to wed but . . . I wanted adventure, and to hear what other priests could teach me about God.”

  “That’s what you wanted?”

  “I always wanted to learn how to read, to read the Holy Writ for myself, but . . . I was poor, my father a simple soldier in his liege lord’s service. And besides that, no one in my village knew how to read except the priest.” Mikolai shrugged. “It was impossible.”

  “‘With God all things are possible.’ That’s in the Holy Writ.”

  “Have you read the Scriptures?”

  “Of course. I even have a portion I carry with me.”

  “Isn’t that blasphemy? To separate one part from the whole and carry it around with you?” Mikolai’s eyes were wide, and he may have turned a bit pale.

  “Who gave you that idea?” Wolfgang reached inside his shirt and pulled out the First Epistle of Saint John. “I can read aloud while we wait.”

  “I would like that.” The lad blinked rapidly. He would not cry, would he?

  Wolfgang read for a while, then came to the part that said, “‘Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Anyone who loves their brother and sister lives in the light, and there is nothing in them to make them stumble. But anyone who hates a brother or sister is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness. They do not know where they are going, because the darkness has blinded them.’”

  “Stop.” Mikolai’s brows were low as a wrinkle formed between his eyes. “What does that mean? Is ‘brother or sister’ everyone? Or only other believers? And shouldn’t we ask a priest?”

  “I may not know as much as a priest, but I think it means anyone in your life, any person you know. If you hate people, especially fellow believers, then you’ve been blinded by darkness, the darkness of the devil.”

  “Wouldn’t some people say the Teutonic Knights are our brothers? They are believers and claim to be the righteous defenders of Christ.”

  “But just look at their deeds of darkness, attacking people who have no quarrel with them because they want their land and their castles. That is not righteous. Besides, this is war.”

  “Why would that make any difference?”

  “God allowed His people to fight wars, even instructed them to do so. Sometimes war is necessary to right wrongs and defend the innocent.” Wolfgang shrugged. “In truth, I don’t think it’s very clear, and there are different opinions about what it says. But that’s what I believe.”

  Mikolai nodded, then sat frowning down at the paper in Wolfgang’s hand. “But it is the Holy Writ, is it not? This is good. I have not heard these words before. You may read more if you wish.” He raised his brows in a hopeful look.

  “Someday I should teach you to read it—when we’re not sitting in a tree.”

  “Me?”

  “Of course. I could use the Bible to teach you. It’s the only writing I brought with me.”

  Mikolai, rather than turning pale this time, seemed to be blushing.

  Wolfgang started reading again. “‘I am writing to you, dear children, because—’”

  “Wait,” Mikolai whispered, grabbing for his bow and an arrow.

  Wolfgang reached for his own bow as a soldier wearing a white surcoat with the black cross appeared on the road below.

  A very familiar-looking soldier.

  Steffan.

  Mikolai was pulling back the arrow, aiming it at Steffan.

  Wolfgang grabbed Mikolai’s arm. “Don’t shoot,” he said in a harsh whisper.

  Mikolai lowered his bow.

  Steffan looked up. Their eyes locked.

  “What have you done?” Wolfgang heard the anguish in his voice even as he stuffed it down. How could he join when he knew he would be fighting his own brother? Hurting his parents, if they knew?

  An angry sneer curled Steffan’s lips. In the next moment he raised his bow and arrow and shot. Mikolai gasped and dropped his bow. He clutched his side and doubled over.

  A red mist descended over Wolfgang’s vision. He leapt from the tree.

  Steffan’s eyes went wide. He dropped his bow and was raising his hands when Wolfgang landed on top of him, sending them both to the ground.

  Wolfgang wrapped his hands around Steffan’s neck as a growl erupted from him. “You shot my friend! You fiend.”

  Steffan grabbed his wrists and pushed, but Wolfgang kept choking him. Steffan’s face reddened as he pushed harder. Finally Wolfgang loosened his hold.

  Steffan gasped for breath. “And now you try to kill me?”

  “You are no brother to me,” Wolfgang ground out through clenched teeth. “I shall take you back as my prisoner. At least we don’t murder our prisoners the way the Teutonic Knights do.”

  “Before you take me prisoner, you should go save your friend. He’s about to fall out of the tree.”

  Wolfgang imagined punching his brother’s face. But he couldn’t let Mikolai die. If he died, it would be Wolfgang’s fault.

>   He used Steffan’s shoulders to push himself up. Then he turned his back on him.

  Just as Steffan had said, Mikolai was slowly tipping forward on the branch, wobbling, dangerously close to falling headfirst.

  “Mikolai, I’m coming up to you.” Wolfgang’s heart pounded as he leapt onto the first branch and started climbing.

  Mulan was falling. This was the end. She was about to die.

  Something hard caught her around the waist, halting her fall. She was jostled and slung over someone’s shoulder. Wolfgang. Then he started climbing down with her.

  The sharp pain in her side made her draw a loud breath. I have to stay awake. What would happen if she lost her senses? She fought to keep her eyes open. But even with them wide open, darkness closed in on her.

  They will find out my secret.

  Not everyone in their troop of soldiers was as honorable as Wolfgang.

  She felt herself being lowered to the ground onto her back.

  Perhaps she wasn’t badly injured. She took her hand off her side and held it up. Bright-red blood covered her palm.

  Wolfgang’s face hovered over her. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  What was he saying? It made no sense.

  “O God, please don’t let it be bad.” He took hold of the hem of her shirt and started to lift it.

  “No.” Mulan grabbed his wrist and held it as tight as she could. She stared up at his face, but no matter how wide she opened her eyes, the edges continued to grow dark.

  “Let me see.” Wolfgang’s voice was gruff and demanding. “I have to see how bad it is.”

  “Please.” She stared up into his eyes. “Please, Wolfgang.” Could she get away with not telling him?

  “What is it? We have to stanch the bleeding.” He was suddenly gone from her sight.

  O God, please don’t make me tell him.

  Wolfgang returned with a roll of bandages. “Let me—”

  “No! Please. It’s not bad. Just . . . wrap it over my shirt.”

  “I’m not doing that. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Wolfgang, I’m not . . .”

  “You are hurt bad.”

  “No, please listen. I need your help, please.”

  “What is it?” An impatient scowl contorted his face.

  “Please don’t let anyone care for my wounds.”

  “You don’t make sense!”

  “Wolfgang, I’m not a man. I’m a . . .”

  Wolfgang’s face paled and his mouth hung open. “You’re a woman.”

  “I can help you wrap it. It will be all right.” Her hand was shaking as she reached for the roll of bandages.

  He snatched it away from her, his gaze moving from her face to the blood soaking her gray shirt. “You have to trust me. I won’t . . . won’t do anything to”—his throat bobbed as he swallowed—“to take advantage of you. I just need to see the wound.”

  Without another word, with the hand that still held to the end of her shirt, he eased it up on one side.

  Mulan blinked, fighting to stay conscious.

  CHAPTER 10

  Wolfgang pulled the end of the shirt up, just enough to reveal the wound. He used one end of the bandage roll to wipe as much blood away as he could so he could see.

  The arrow had gone straight through. It was low enough to have missed his—her—ribs and far enough over, hopefully, so that it missed the important internal organs like stomach, liver, and kidneys. But he was no physician. How would he know?

  She was losing a lot of blood. Remembering what the healer Lena had taught him before he left Hagenheim, he took a second roll of bandages from his bag and pressed a roll firmly against both the entry wound in the front and the exit wound at her back.

  Mikolai moaned, a soft sound that she quickly suppressed.

  Mikolai. That wasn’t her name.

  “So, what is your name?”

  She stared up at him. “My name is Mulan.”

  “Why? Why did you lie to us? Why would you come here and pretend to be a soldier? Are you a spy for the Teutonic Knights?” A pain went through his chest at the thought of her betraying him.

  “No. Everything I said was true, except that I am no son, but my father’s daughter. And if I didn’t come in his place, my mother would have been thrown out of her house. She had nowhere to go.”

  He eased up on the pressure and she cried out, then bit her lip. His heart squeezed with pity, as he had a good idea just how much it hurt.

  He quickly wrapped the third roll of bandages around her middle, trying not to let his fingers brush her bare skin. As he did so his mind raced. What had he said to her when he thought she was a man? She had nearly beaten him at archery and then he’d sought her out for the sword-fighting competition— Oh no.

  He had purposely beaten her, injuring her, though not seriously.

  God, forgive me. I didn’t know.

  He had let his stupid pride cause him to treat her harshly. And now, after all her bravery and fierce fighting, she was injured because he had told her not to shoot Steffan.

  His brother was possibly betraying their whereabouts to the enemy at this very moment. Would his brother do that to him? He no longer knew his brother, and he certainly couldn’t trust him.

  “Can you walk?” He glanced up at her face as he tied the bandage in place. She was pale, but her eyes snapped open at his question.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Yes, of course,” he muttered under his breath. She was bleeding and possibly badly injured, but of course she could walk.

  He lifted her up by her arms. Since her right side was injured, he hung her left arm around his shoulders. But it was clear that wouldn’t work. She was so much shorter than him. So he bent and lifted her in his arms. He started back toward their encampment at a fast walk.

  “The Teutonic Knights could come through here any moment.”

  Now her voice sounded like a woman. Gone was the affected gruff, low voice. How had he not known? But he had been suspicious.

  “You should leave me here and go back to camp. I can hide in the trees.”

  Wolfgang made a guttural sound low in his throat. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m not leaving you.” Even though she was small, his shoulder was already burning, but he wasn’t about to put her down.

  His mind was reeling with everything that had just happened. But he kept his eyes straight ahead, kept walking at as fast a pace as he could.

  Two men Wolfgang recognized appeared on the road ahead. They hurried toward him, and one reached out to take Mikolai—or Mulan—from him.

  She grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Take me to Andrei—only Andrei.”

  “Do not worry.” He couldn’t help frowning at her. “I’ll take care of you.”

  His heart beat fast and strength surged through his limbs as he let someone else carry her for a while, but he stayed right beside her, making sure she could see him there.

  Why did he care? He should be angry. She had betrayed him and tricked her fellow soldiers, endangering more lives than her own by disguising herself as a man and a soldier and coming here to fight among them.

  But perhaps she had felt she had no choice. And she had proven herself a worthy warrior.

  He peevishly bested her with the sword, purposely drawing out the fight and even risking her life. But she had borne it with perfect noble character.

  He pushed all these thoughts from his mind and focused on getting her back to camp—and concealing the fact that she was a woman.

  Mulan lay gasping for breath. A candle was still burning between Andrei and her, and the boy’s heavy, even breathing reassured her that she had not awakened him.

  The pain was so sharp at times, it took her breath. She couldn’t spread her mother’s healing salve on the wounds until they ceased bleeding. But perhaps they had stopped.

  Slowly she unwrapped the bandages Wolfgang had put in place. He’d wrapped them quite snugly, but not too tight. When she g
ot to the end, she carefully lifted the padding against the front wound, just above her hip bone.

  Was that it? It looked so small.

  She reached for the flask of her mother’s salve. Wolfgang had tried to return the one she had given him, but she refused it, telling him she had more. Now she smeared on the bad-smelling concoction, first on the front, then on the back where the arrow had exited.

  What would Wolfgang do now that he knew her secret? Would he demand she leave the troop and go back home? She could see that he was angry, and when he brought her back the salve, he’d looked at her so strangely, almost as if he had betrayed her. Had he already told the captain? The other soldiers?

  Or perhaps he felt bad because it had been his brother who shot her. But that was daft. She would never hold him responsible for his brother’s deeds. Then she remembered how he’d stopped her from shooting him, giving Steffan the chance to retaliate.

  A fresh, sharp pain went through her side and she gasped. Lying back on her blanket, she breathed in and out, forcing away the groans that might wake up Andrei.

  Poor boy. The look on his face when he’d seen her covered in blood and being carried into the tent made her stomach twist. She remembered how Wolfgang had stayed and talked with Andrei about her injury. When he left, she’d admitted to Andrei that he now knew her secret.

  Andrei had rubbed a hand over his face. “Perhaps we should sneak away tonight and hope no one follows us.”

  “No, no. We cannot do that. We have no choice but to hope he will not tell anyone.”

  She was in too much pain at the time to worry much about it. But now . . . Truly, she didn’t think her injury was serious. If Wolfgang could carry her with a fresh arrow wound to his shoulder, she should be able to fight again in a day or two. And if the Teutonic Knights’ reinforcements arrived, they would need her.

  She let herself relive Wolfgang carrying her and the looks of concern on his face—although at times she couldn’t be certain if he was concerned or just angry, there were other times when she was sure compassion filled his eyes.

  She relived the apology—“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” And then, “O God, please don’t let it be bad.”