At Witches' End

by Annette Oppenlander

  I slid a leg across the bench for a better view and saw how Bero’s eyes glazed over with disappointment.

  “I can, however, send a knight with you to act as messenger. Lord Ott will be more inclined if he receives, shall we say, a persuasive note from the Lords of Hanstein.” The right corner of Hans’s mouth tilted into a half-smile. “Unfortunately, I am not convinced it will be enough, no matter what message I send.”

  “I am most grateful for whatever help you can provide,” Bero said. “I owe you a great debt for helping Juliana and myself.” And with a smirk toward me. “And my friend, Squire Max Nerds.”

  I nodded and bowed on my bench. I wasn’t quite sure I was off the hook yet. Hans was hard to read and he could easily get the perpetual servant at the entrance to summon a few sword-happy guards. To the dungeon I’d go to never emerge again.

  “I shall prepare a letter this evening,” Hans said.

  “I take my leave then,” Bero said. After a bow and a nod toward me, he turned away.

  “There is one more small matter,” Hans called after him. Bero spun around and approached the tall chair once more. “Max Nerds, who you undoubtedly know much better than I, has told me about a most peculiar journey. He has, in fact, claimed to be from the future. You would not by chance know about this astounding tale.”

  Surprise and anxiety fought a battle on Bero’s face. He bit his lip and readjusted his sword belt—undoubtedly to gain precious seconds to make up his mind. In the past he would’ve blurted whatever came to mind. Bero was growing up. “I saw the trinket,” Bero said. “I know about the tale.” He sighed. “I believe Max Nerds—even if I cannot understand its workings.”

  He finally looked up, glad to have it out, but obviously anxious about Hans’s reaction. Werner would’ve been much easier to talk to. Hans only nodded as his eyes went back and forth between his squires.

  “I shall think on it. You may take your leave. Both of you.”

  I clambered from my seat relieved. Only when I reached the courtyard and the chilling drizzle of a fall rain hit my face did I realize how scared I’d been. Hans could’ve easily arrested me. In fact, anyone else in this castle would’ve done so. I breathed deeply, for a minute not caring that I got soaked.

  When I noticed a freezing chill on my skin, I hurried after Bero into the stables and grabbed a second shirt. It was torn and stained but I didn’t care. I’d long given up vanity.

  That was something for the twenty-first century, for my classmates who squirmed if the color of their shoes didn’t match their pants. People here were just glad to have something to cover their skinny bones. Not the lords and ladies, of course. Lady Clara owned incredible outfits. But then she would’ve looked amazing in a burlap sack.

  “What are we going to do about Adela?” Bero said, chewing a blade of hay and waving a horse brush.

  “I’ll give you a hand.” I picked up a second brush, the regular movement, snorting and stomping of the horses, the smells of hay, straw and dung soothing my frayed nerves. “Last time Ott tried to kill me. Only the belladonna poison prevented that from happening.” Ott’s eyes had been manic with hate as he’d squeezed my throat. I had nightmares for months, waking up wet with sweat, imagining Ott climbing out of the computer to finish the task.

  “Had you killed him, Adela would be safe now,” Bero said. He sounded angry.

  “Don’t start that again,” I hissed back. “You weren’t there.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Why are you such an idiot?”

  Bero’s brush stopped in midair. “Because your unwillingness to finish the deed has prolonged my family’s suffering.”

  I cringed at the stinging words but kept my mouth shut.

  “Who knows what Ott will do? What he has done already?” Bero continued.

  The image of stinking Ott groping at Adela twisted like a knife in my gut. Why hadn’t I fought harder to keep Adela with me? Would I have done more had it been Juliana?

  Adela needed it more. Memories of her teary eyes returned, her fragile body leaning against me in sadness. I was a callous bastard to have let her go with the priest. I could’ve insisted on staying with her until we found a solution.

  “Last I remember you didn’t volunteer to help,” I yelled, steam building beneath my collar. “I dressed up as a knight while you stayed at Hanstein safe and snug.” I wanted to punch Bero for being so unfair, but more so because he was right.

  “If you weren’t such a horse’s arse, we would not have this problem,” Bero shouted back. His eyes were dark with fury. “Ott will keep her. I know it.” He jerked his head so hard that his hair flapped back and forth.

  “You got an idea then?” I said.

  “Nay.” Bero hurled his brush into the straw where it jumped up and smacked against the enclosure. Then he stomped off.

  “Damn jerk,” I mumbled as I continued grooming.

  The peacefulness of the barn had vanished.

  Chapter 25

  I woke up steaming. Easy for Bero to point fingers and question why I hadn’t killed Ott in the first place. Sometimes I wished I’d done it. But that would’ve been murder, premeditated first-degree despicable murder. Had he been dead, Adela wouldn’t have gone or if she had she’d be only with Ott’s mother, Miranda. Even if the Lady was a certified bitch like Bero insisted, Adela would’ve been safe from Ott’s lust.

  I sat up from the straw. Would haves and could haves didn’t do me any good. The fact was Adela would need to be freed one way or another.

  One thing was certain. I would get Bero’s sister out and then I’d find my cape and go home.

  After a cold breakfast of oat mush with milk, I found Bero in the bailey, listlessly practicing sword-fighting positions, stabbing at an invisible opponent shouting madly. When he saw me, he dropped his blade.

  “Sorry about last night, dimwit. I did not mean it.”

  I grinned. “We better come up with an idea then. As long as I don’t have to dress up as a knight again.”

  “Lord Hans gave me a letter.” Bero tucked a rolled parchment from his shirt. “The Lord says it is offering Adela a place at Hanstein. Does not promise any coin, though. I say we try a visit and see what he will do or want. Maybe it is all for naught and Ott will let her go…if she acts like my usual pinch-brained sister.” Bero’s lips turned into a crooked smile. “Like she was at home when mother was still…” The smile disappeared and he heaved a sigh.

  “Sorry, man.” I cuffed Bero into the bicep for distraction. “Sounds like a fair plan. I’m ready when you are.”

  The path to Ott’s manor was fuzzy in my mind, but it turned out that Bero had delivered messages a couple of times. We had declined Hans’s suggestion of taking an extra knight to appear more agreeable.

  A damp wind promising rain whipped us as we rode the narrow lane toward the manor. It sat on a low rise, surrounded by ten-foot walls with a single gate. The place appeared desolate from the outside and I wondered if Ott and Miranda would be home, and how run-down things would be.

  I shivered in the cold air as the memory of my last fight, Ott’s reddened hate-filled eyes and his promise to kill me flashed by. Even if two years had passed, chances were excellent, Ott hadn’t forgotten.

  “I should wait here,” I offered. “Ott might still be angry. You on the other hand are Adela’s brother. He wouldn’t consider that strange.”

  Bero shot me a look. “You are not coming?” It sounded like an accusation of utter cowardice.

  I looked back and forth between the gate and the edge of the forest. To Bero I had to appear gutless. “Never mind,” I said aloud. “Let’s go.” After all, I was a Hanstein squire even if it was just a farce.

  As we neared the entrance, a guard, dressed in chainmail and the maroon and white insignia of Ott’s house, stepped into our path. “State your business.”

  “Bero, Squire of Hanstein to see Lord Ott,” Bero announced. “In matters of personal business.”

  The guard s
quinted and after obviously classifying us as harmless disappeared with a mumbled, “Wait.”

  The gate smashed shut, making the wooden framework of aged oak quiver. We glanced at each other without speaking. I wanted to be gone. Sweat trickled down my back despite the cold. We kept waiting. Had the guard gotten lost or simply been ordered to remain inside?

  “Should I knock again?” Bero frowned at the eight-foot door of reinforced oak. Despite its state of disrepair it had the solidity of a bank safe. Unless someone stood within a few feet of the other side, a knock would be impossible to hear.

  “What if they don’t want us to come in?” I whispered, my face hot in the cool air.

  “I am not leaving until I get an answer,” Bero said much louder.

  As if they’d heard him, the door squeaked open once more. The same guard appeared, his face in the half-helmet unreadable.

  “Follow me.”

  The inner plaza of the manor was as I remembered it. The main house that doubled as the keep stood to my left, a square block of grayish stone three stories high. Around it scattered assorted outbuildings, a chicken coop, stables and a guesthouse. Everything looked worse than I remembered. Stones were missing from walls, kitchen rubbish piled in a messy heap. The stench of manure and rotting garbage wafted across.

  Except for a maid who hurried into the barnyard, nobody was outside. The atmosphere of decay was hard to miss. I scanned each building. There was no sign of Adela.

  “This way.” The guard pointed at the entrance of the keep. We found ourselves in the great hall, the place I’d visited dressed up as a knight. Compared to the brightness of last time, the few torches made no dent into the dimness.

  Ott sat at the main table fisting a beaker, a platter of bread and hambones in front of him. By the looks of his bloodshot eyes and the alcohol vapors cloaking him, he’d emptied a few already.

  “The squires of Hanstein,” he said without preamble. “To what do I owe this great honor?” He took a bite from the meat, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

  “My Lord.” Bero presented his best bow. “I have come to you with an offer from My Lord, Hans von Hanstein.” He stepped forward and handed over the parchment.

  Ott tore open the seal and squinted at it so long, I asked myself if he could read or if his eyesight was bad.

  “And?” he finally said.

  “And what?” Bero said.

  Ott squirmed in his seat, trying in vain to appear taller. “I do consider myself charitable. But in this case, there are…debts to be paid. Old debts,” he met my eyes, “which unfortunately do not allow me to honor your Lord’s offer. It is not just that I paid your mother’s burial. Your other sister… Juliana was it…left in disgrace. My mother, Lady Miranda, was distraught and inconvenienced a great deal.”

  My fingers twitched with fury at the memory of Juliana with her leg looking like ground beef. I forced myself to breathe normally which was a chore in the festering stink of Ott’s great hall.

  “Will you—” Bero started, but Ott’s arm shot up as if he wanted to hurl it at us.

  “I am a forgiving man, a generous man, but this…will not do,” he continued. “Your family has cost me, Squire Bero. Your friend nearly cost me my life.” Ott’s rat eyes landed on me once more. “It is only for my generosity that I don’t have him arrested and tried for murder.”

  If I’d wanted you dead, I would’ve done it. I forced my aching fingers to uncurl. I had to admit I was surprised. I don’t know what I’d expected, but somehow Ott letting me off the hook this easy didn’t make sense. He was up to something.

  “Will you tell me what we owe?” Bero said, trying to suppress the quiver in his voice. “I’d do my best to get you paid.”

  “I will think on it,” Ott said. A girl of twelve or thirteen entered and scurried to the table. “My Lord…”

  “Take it away.” Ott snapped a finger. The sound made the girl twitch as she clumsily stacked the platters and rushed away.

  “Will you send a messenger, then?” Bero asked.

  “I said, I shall think on it.” Ott got up, stretching his bulging middle. His arms and legs looked sinewy, but I could tell he’d gained weight. “Now if you will allow me, I have business matters to attend.”

  Probably just a cheap excuse to take a nap. Nothing seemed to run very well around here.

  “My Lord, may we visit with my sister for a moment.” Bero’s fingers tapped the hilt of his sword.

  Ott, already at the backdoor, turned. “I fail to see why that is necessary. A disruption of my household, I am sure.” He pushed open the door.

  “Will you at least tell us if she is well?” Bero shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and worry.

  But Ott ignored us and the door shut with a final snap.

  “I want to kill him,” Bero hissed. “The pimple-spotted maggot-pie of Satan.”

  “Wonder where she might be,” I said.

  We stood alone.

  Bero shrugged. “We cannot search the place. It will give Ott even more reason to keep her from us.”

  “You think he…?” I stopped. Better not imagine what Ott was doing with his maids. I patted Bero’s arm and headed for the exit.

  “Sirs,” a small voice called from the gloom. The mousy girl from earlier flittered closer. “I am to give myself a lot of trouble. My Lady will make me starve and Lord Ott, he—”

  “What is it?” Bero said. “You have news about Adela. How is she?”

  “She is well enough,” the girl said, her eyes downcast. “It is just the Lord has it in for her. He always asks for her and sometimes, she is with him a long time.”

  “I shall kill him,” Bero said again. I wondered what with him meant.

  “Will you tell her we visited and that we’ll…” I stopped. I couldn’t risk saying anything about a possible rescue. If the mousy thing got scared she might tell on us.

  “Tell her we stopped by and were sad to miss her,” I said, making eye contact with Bero. I shook my head quickly, trying to send a signal.

  “Right,” Bero said, visibly trying to control his shaking hands. “We are sorry to have missed her.”

  “Yes, of course, sirs.” She curtsied and took flight into the cavernous shadows.

  “Let’s go,” I said, pushing open the door.

  Filling my lungs with clean air, I grabbed our horses and walked to the gate. I turned a few times, hoping against the odds that Adela would be outside. But the place remained deserted.

  “At least, he didn’t attack me,” I said aloud when we’d put a few miles between us and Ott’s stench.

  “Now he will be even harder on her.” Bero let out a grunt. “Wonder if the girl was spying for him or if she really wanted to help.”

  “Don’t know, but we better come up with a new idea, quickly.”

  When we reached Hanstein I was utterly depressed. Our trip hadn’t accomplished a thing, my butt hurt and I was ravenous thanks to Ott’s hospitality—not.

  We met Hans in the great hall, himself much more subdued since the attack. The obvious trouble of getting everyone through the approaching winter seemed to weigh on him.

  “Did you find your sister well?” he asked.

  “Ott kept her hidden from us,” Bero said. “He refused to give us a price to buy her back.”

  Hans shook his head, running a hand through his dark mane. In the dull light I detected silvery strands. Hans was getting old. To my surprise he emptied his beaker and hurried from the hall without a word, his limp more pronounced than ever. I exchanged a look with Bero who shrugged and began attacking a piece of leftover bread.

  “What’s gotten into him?” I said aloud, feeling grumpy myself. Instead of answering, Bero poured himself wine from Hans’s flagon and took a swig. “Can’t you for once stop eating and concentrate on the important matters.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how to get Adela away from Ott.” Like how to find my clothes at the Klausenhof. Except that wasn�
�t Bero’s job.

  “I do not hear you coming up with ideas,” Bero said with a full mouth.

  “At least I’m trying instead of stuffing myself every second.”

  Bero’s hand with the bread sank to the table. “Why did you let her go with the priest? You knew what Ott did to Juliana. And you allowed her to go anyway.”

  I smacked a fist on the table and stormed off. What a jerk. He was right, of course. I’d thought about it every day. I had to find a way to rescue her.

  In the courtyard Konrad was assembling a dozen knights. They were all dressed in full harness, shield and long swords. I wanted to ask what they were up to, but then Konrad squinted at me and I hurried on. Without really knowing where I was going, I headed down the bailey to the outer gate. Before I made it through, Konrad and his men rumbled past me.

  I considered going to the inn, but shortly before entering the village I decided to head downhill. After all the stink at Hanstein and Ott’s manor I needed a swim.

  Truth was I was scared. Scared of facing the innkeeper and falling into Schwarzburg’s claws again. Scared of sneaking back to Ott’s place to free Adela.

  The stint in Schwarzburg’s dungeon and our narrow escape from burning at the stake had changed me. Until then I’d always expected I’d make it out alive. After all wasn’t it just a game?

  But I knew better. It was no game to survive among ruthless dukes nor was it a game to fight off ruffians in the Wild West. A game was something fun, something not real. This was real and the stakes were people’s lives. How could Stuler call it a game?

  On top of that, if I was honest with myself I was plain exhausted, my body thin and my mind tired and less confident.

  Karl’s ordeal also weighed on me. He’d almost died before making it home and as I knew from the present day, he’d never recovered. He’d lost his job and his family and now lived more like a ghost than a real person. He remained with one step firmly in the past. Chances were good that even if I made it home I’d be somehow scarred.

  I certainly looked at things differently.

  With a sigh I recognized the river. It was October, the banks covered in leaves and brownish grasses, cattails yellowed and drying. I’d been here more than two months already. Stripping down quickly I swam along the shore, washing my hair and taking a drink.