Chapter 25
Sieglinde pushed herself against the back of her chair. She had nearly fallen asleep over her porridge. The few women that remained at the tables−still attempting to keep some normalcy and routine to their lives−all looked the same.
Only two-thirds of her people remained alive and able-bodied. The daily attacks had taken their toll. Their spirits were low as they all knew that it would take only a few more days like the last three to finish them.
She looked at her trembling hands and set down her spoon. They were still covered in the soot of the last fire she had helped extinguish. Even the stars terrified her now. Glowing dots in the sky spoke of death. Adalbern had been lucky he had been spared the hardships they faced.
Right on schedule, the morning horn blew. The attacks for that day had begun.
Mechanically, she pushed her chair back from the table and walked out of the manor.
There were no longer houses near the wall. Only those closest to the manor and out of reach of the arrows had managed to go without being burned to the ground. At least it had made it easier to deal with the repeated onslaught of fire shot into their midst.
Several flaming arrows embedded themselves into the ground nearby as she walked along the edge of the remains of the village, taking the daily tally of the surviving structures.
The giant boom of rocks hitting the wall echoed through the air. So far, their wall had held. She could not explain it but not a single piece of the hard white stone had fallen. She could not allow herself to be comforted without an explanation. That day, just the right rock might hit and bring the whole thing down. She had to assume the worst.
She returned to the manor to check on the wounded survivors. Ingeborg, one of the Mother of Children, and Alfons had died of their wounds in the night. Alfons' daughters were at his side. His daughter Marlene stretched across his chest and sobbed. His daughter Marieke, too young to comprehend what had happened, looked up at Sieglinde and asked when her father would be waking up. She hugged the girl as she said, "Never." The girl still did not understand. Did that mean tomorrow? The girl's mother arrived after having sewed another's wounds shut and lifted her daughter into her arms.
Sieglinde looked over at Ingeborg. Her son Diedrich was sitting next to her, his legs pulled to his chest; one of his arms wrapped around the shoulders of his little brother. He was staring at his mother's face but his eyes were dry. His father had been one of the farmers in the fields the day the attacks began. Though the younger boy was little older than Marieke, he knew his mother would never wake.
Sieglinde sought out her grandmother. Oda was in the corner of the hall checking the contents of several pots. She confirmed what Sieglinde had feared, the medicinal stores were dwindling. Even small wounds would soon be a large threat to them.
The fires had also destroyed most of the emergent gardens within the walls. Only the food in the storehouse remained. Though their numbers were less, that bloody blessing would still not be enough to get them through winter even if any of them could survive the attacks through summer.
A man was hunched over the wounded Adelina. Her hair had caught fire in her efforts to fight the flames the previous day. She had panicked and had not managed to extinguish them fast enough. Half of her head and her face were now raw and disfigured. Her body writhed with the agony and even from several feet away and the commotion of war around her, Sieglinde could hear her whimpering. Her survival was not expected.
The man stood and turned. Their eyes locked. It was Humbert.
Though she knew he had survived his own wounds−she had not seen, nor expected to see−him walking around. As usual, he was determined to be of some use.
Loud gasps and shouts caught their attention. They both looked at the manor doors. They were open and several people were gathered around them. Both Sieglinde and Humbert ran and pushed their way through to get a look at what was happening.
Sieglinde's heart stopped. Felix, the two-year old son of the dead farmer Angelika, was toddling towards the walls. He was already upon the scorched earth and within range of the fire arrows. The three-year-old Frauke, only slightly more aware of the danger, was trying to catch him. Both were in range. Both toddled upon black earth. Flaming arrows whizzed by them and embedded themselves to half-way up their shafts in the earth.
There were several people trying to get to them but it was Frauke's pregnant mother, Lara, who had noticed first and was nearest. She was rushing to get to them both. She had entered the range of the arrows too but was still too far.
Felix stopped and looked up at the pretty light of the arrow coming towards him. Several people screamed as the boy fell. Sieglinde's tears could not have been restrained. She forced herself to keep watching to make sure Frauke and Lara would make it. She watched even as her own lungs convulsed.
Lara was only feet away from Frauke. She threw herself at him, encasing the boy within the protection of her body. At the same moment, another arrow fell and hit her hard. They both tumbled over and onto the ground. Lara remained motionless.
A second later, Lara's husband Anselm was in the soot next to her and lifting both his wife and his son into his arms. He managed to carry them out of range without getting hit. Sieglinde expelled a great breath even as her tears refused to stop. She ran down the manor steps to meet them.
When she reached them, her throat hardened into a solid lump. Lara's form was truly lifeless. She gasped again as Frauke stirred. She reached out and took the boy from Anselm, whose knees gave way in his grief. Still holding his wife close, he touched his forehead to hers and cried. Sieglinde carried Frauke inside to be looked at by the healers.
To the relief of everyone, Frauke was uninjured. But Sieglinde saw Felix's death every time she closed her eyes. As glad as she was that Frauke was unharmed, she could not feel happy. As Sieglinde handed the boy to Lilli, she felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder. She looked up to see Humbert.
"Listen," he said.
She held her breath. Aside from the sounds of those moving about the hall, the cries of grief, and the groans of pain, she heard nothing. Her eyes locked with Humbert's. The booms against the wall had stopped. At the same moment, they both turned to run from the manor and to the gatehouse.
The onslaught of arrows had stopped. Those that remained stuck in the ground had already burned out.
Sieglinde needed to know what had broken the rhythm. Was something more coming? Had they finally inflicted damage upon the wall? She silently prayed that she would not be felled by the arrow of a renewed attack.
They reached the gatehouse and climbed the ladder. On the battlements, they looked to the south. They could see nothing but the top of the enemy's onager that sat in the clearing they had made. For the first time in three days, it was still.
She waited upon the wall. Clouds moved in and obscured the sun but the enemy archers did not return. Humbert climbed down from the battlements to return to the necessary chores. The guards changed shifts. She waited even after night fell and the campfires of their enemies dotted the forest. No further attack came.
In the middle of the night, she climbed down from the wall and walked back to the manor. She had no hope that she would sleep, but her body was quickly losing its ability to keep her upright after so long upon the wall.
The homeless filled the hall of the manor. Those with their homes not ravaged by fire were a lucky few.
When she was near the stairs, logs shifting upon the central fire caught her attention. She turned to see Humbert building it up.
Adalbern would have told her to go straight to bed. He would have reminded her how important it was to avoid distraction, but Adalbern had not seen the death she had seen. He had not watched his wife crumple and sob over what little they had left of him. He had not spent days and nights consoling those who would be disfigured from fire or would die slowly from infected arrow wounds. No matter how many people stayed huddled near the manor, each day saw someone new injured. Their numbers had been small to
begin with and each loss was a significant blow to their ability to cope.
Adalbern had seen none of those things.
Humbert carefully set another log upon the fire. She had seen him from the wall working as least at hard as the others and he was still recovering from his mysterious wound. If the wall breached the next day, she knew he would lead the charge against the invaders. Even if he fought well, the risk of death or disfigurement were highest for him in his weakened state. She knew that without having to consider it. She had done as best she could to help lead them and protect them. Was the gratitude owed her simply to die alone? Yes, Adalbern would have told her to go straight to bed and that is exactly what she decided not to do.
She walked over to Humbert. His eyes widened when he realized who was approaching but he did not speak.
"Thank you for everything you have done," she whispered.
He turned back to watching the fire. "You're welcome." His tone was distant.
"How are you feeling?" She hoped he had gotten her meaning. She did not want to break his confidence by speaking of his wound in front of those who may or may not be asleep.
"I can manage," he said.
Her avoidance of him had hurt him. Though his hurt feelings felt like unfair punishment, she knew they were justified. But she could not tell him all of that in the open.
"Come with me," she instructed.
She walked to the manor doors. She did not want anyone present to see them climb to the High Priestesses' solar either. He did as she asked and followed as she returned to the outside. She walked around to the back of the manor and stopped at the shore of the lake.
The water lapped gently at the sand and rocks. She could not even hear its movement if her breathing were too heavy. The black expanse of water behind the manor was unsettling. It looked like a bottomless pit, as much a threat to her as to those who would wish to cross it to harm them. Thankfully, that had not been a concern.
"What do you need?" Humbert asked, his eyes upon the ground at his feet as he stopped within an arm's length of her.
There was no moon but she knew his face well enough that the blurred shadows of his features made a clear vision in her mind.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He looked up.
"I am sorry I have been avoiding you."
He shrugged. "You've been under much more pressure than any of the rest of us."
The muscles in her chest began to relax. Perhaps his hurt did not run so deep after all.
"I love you," she said. "I love you so much that I was putting you ahead of everyone else. It wasn't right. But ignoring you was not right either. I don't know how much longer we can hold off. They have yet to succeed with their rocks but the daily fire rain takes a chunk from us each day. If that wall ever begins to crumble, we will all be slaughtered. We may never have our wedding."
Her words had triggered something in him. He pulled her against him and held her tightly. She could feel the strength of his hands.
"I will not let that happen," he said.
"Noble words," she replied, "But not always a promise possible to keep, especially when you are still injured."
"I'm fine," he growled. "It is nearly healed."
"We both know a wound like that, one that nearly killed you, would not be healed by now. You are lucky to be walking around at all!"
He rested his head on hers. As the night breeze teased her cheek and the hair around her face, his embrace warmed her so that the dancing air did not chill but tickled pleasantly.
"Please forgive me," he whispered. "I was weak. I will never allow such a thing to happen again. I just, I needed to be useful. Then I wasn't and you had sided wtih Adalbern against me. I was all alone in that damn shack and had nothing left. I could not help protect us. I could not make you happy. I saw no reason to go on. I told myself that I would be one less to feed and to worry about when the attacks came. I wanted so much for the pain to end and at the same time I had convinced myself I was doing the right thing. I had intended to gut myself. But in those first seconds of blinding pain, as I pressed the side of the blade against my body, all-consuming fear came over me. I couldn't do it. I was so useless that I could not even end myself for the good of everyone around me."
A quaver in his voice went from mild to severe. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed.
He continued, "I was so ashamed. After all my efforts to be honourable and admirable, I was nothing but a spoiled child in the face of rejection and a coward in the face of mortality. I didn't want anyone to know what I had done. I tried to tend the wound myself, but you saw how well that went. When Adalbern found me, I was horrified and relieved. But I was also sure I would die after all. At that point, I was even convinced that such a pitiful death served me right for being such a halfwit. All I wanted was to see you."
He sucked in a shaking breath. "Then Adalbern fetched you to help me. When I saw you, I thought the Goddess herself had blessed me. I thought of how lucky I was to see such a vision before my last breath. I was too far gone even to be embarrassed anymore but you saved me. Your poultices worked and you stayed with me. I knew you were there. Even in my twisted dreams from fever, I could feel you near me. Everything else faded away. I focused upon that feeling of you near me. I focused upon everything that I adore about you. It was the beacon I needed to bring me back to life.
"But I don't deserve you after everything I have done and the worry I put you through. I can only do my best for everyone, and you are right, my promise is impossible to keep. My own cowardice has been proven. I am an unfit protector even if I spend my last breath trying to rectify it."
She squeezed him again. "Let me be the judge of how worthy you are," she said. She could have said more but all of the other words that appeared in her mind felt silly. Even without her intending them to, she knew they would belittle what he had just confessed so she left her reply as it was.
"I do love you, Sieglinde," he said. "More than anyone."
"And I you," she replied with another reassuring squeeze. "Now let us get you a night's rest in a proper bed. That wound cannot fix itself on a pile of dirty straw."
She heard the faint crack of his smile. "Anything to get me in your room," he teased.
Though she chuckled at his play, she rebuked, "You will be sleeping in there alone. I will be staying in the hall. You have been pushing it far too much with your exertion during the day. I am not going to make it worse by keeping you working at night."
"Tough love," he whispered. She could still hear the mirth in his tone and she smiled.
Courted Sanctuary Page 25