Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  He was set down by a fire. Its heat was shocking, but he controlled his initial alarm, and the discomfort soon passed.

  “I suppose he’s hungry. Never met a fugitive that wasn’t hungry,” the woman said. She turned and barked at a skinny girl peeking around the wagon to bring bread.

  The leader folded his arms and regarded Thal thoughtfully. Two other men joined him and studied the newcomer. The rest of the people filled the darkness in every direction and stared with open curiosity. Dogs circled but did not come close.

  “Andreli, what do you make of him?” one man asked the leader.

  “I’m not making anything of him yet,” Andreli admitted.

  Thal had listened to the short exchange closely and grasped that he had just heard the man’s name. All men had names he recalled.

  “An…drel…i,” Thal said slowly. He was very pleased with himself to have formed some coherent syllables.

  “Yes, Andreli, that’s me, and who are you?” the man asked excitedly.

  For a moment Thal struggled but then finally said, “Thal.”

  Andreli came back with several more questions, but Thal was not able to converse. The woman insisted that Thal should eat. She handed him a chunk of rye bread.

  He accepted it gratefully. The texture was odd and lacking the satisfying carnality of raw meat, but the graininess was pleasing in a new way.

  Happy to see him eating, the woman sat back on her heels. “Since none of these louts have the manners to introduce me, I’ll have to do it. I’m Emerald,” she said with an imperious air.

  Thal nodded but did not attempt to say her name while his mouth was full of bread. Emerald caught the eye of the scrawny girl and told her to find some clothes and a blanket. She rummaged through a couple wagons before returning with a threadbare shirt, holy pants, and a heavy felt blanket. Thal accepted them happily and after a glance at the men to see how the clothing went on he gave the cloak back to Andreli and untied his wolf skin. He set the fur on the ground and stepped into his pants.

  “Oh, he’s not shy,” Emerald remarked as she covered her eyes while still peeping through parted fingers at his nakedness. A few female giggles came from the crowd.

  Once he had the shirt on too, he bent to retrieve his fur. Andreli glimpsed the writing on the inside.

  “What’s that?” he asked and reached for the fur.

  Thal snatched it to his chest.

  Andreli took back his hand. He gathered that this single item possessed by the naked stranger was deeply precious.

  “I saw writing on it. Maybe it can tell us about you,” Andreli tried to explain.

  Thal frowned and held his fur tightly.

  “It can wait till morning,” Emerald proposed.

  Andreli nodded. The strange young man had likely experienced some awful trauma. Andreli chose to extend hospitality and be patient for answers.

  When he withdrew, he shooed the rest of the people back to their respective camps. Thal draped his fur across his shoulders and settled on the ground with his blanket. He looked up at Emerald. Her heart melted for him. He was communicating so much with his eyes, and all of it was so kind and good. She planned to make him a fine breakfast.

  Stooping beside him, she gently ran a hand over his peculiar hair because she could not resist. The firelight glinted off every color that hair could be, just like his eyes seemed to be every color at once. Thal did not mind the hint of intimacy. Her kindness was easy to trust, and he was relieved to no longer be alone.

  “You’ll remember how to talk. I know it. I’m good at knowing things, Thal Forest-Born,” Emerald said.

  Her choice of words lit up his mind with comprehension. Thal sat up abruptly and startled her. He grabbed the edge of her shawl to keep her close. “Forest!” he said, using the word easily and properly. “I…chose…the…forest,” he said.

  Emerald patted his hand. “That’s plain to see. Rest,” she insisted.

  Thal fell back. “Rest,” he agreed.

  Emerald watched him drift into sleep. He was like some demigod in a wicked dream, beautiful and troubled.

  Chapter 5. Much Devilry Afoot

  The next morning when Thal opened his eyes four children were leaning over him. They squealed, clutched each other, and then ran in separate directions. He sat up and scratched his head. The sun was well up and people were going about their business throughout the camp. He was quite surprised to have slept late amid so many people, but his exhaustion was much alleviated.

  Emerald and Andreli were sitting by the cooking fire. The woman was frying sausages in a pan that looked like it had survived canon fire. Andreli was fussing over his mustache while looking in a little metal mirror.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  The words parted the clouds of Thal’s mind.

  “Good morning, Andreli,” he said slowly.

  The man lifted his eyebrows. “Your head is clear this morning,” he remarked.

  “I told you he spoke last night,” Emerald said. She grinned at Thal. Her teeth were big and broad like her hips. “He was just waiting for a chance to speak to me alone,” she added saucily.

  Andreli humphed.

  Emerald slid the sausages onto a plate alongside some freshly plucked greens and a dilapidated hunk of rye bread. “Eat up, Thal,” she said.

  He accepted it gratefully. He bit into one and hissed at the burning juice but kept chewing.

  Andreli put away his mirror. “Be grateful, stranger. Emerald never shares her sausages with anyone,” he said.

  “How would you know?” Emerald said. “Anyway, the poor lad needs his strength back.”

  Andreli glanced at Thal’s physique. Judging from what the men who had encountered Thal last night had told him, the young man had no lack of strength.

  Thal finished his breakfast while the man and woman observed him in fascinated silence. He licked the grease off his fingers.

  “I thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome. You needed help,” Emerald said softly and took his dish.

  “Your Czech doesn’t quite sound like people around here,” Andreli noted, obviously wanting to steer the conversation to Thal’s origins.

  “Czech,” Thal repeated and pondered the word. It was the language his mother had spoken.

  Thinking of her made him tense. Her striking face flashed through his mind. Shaking off his distracting feelings, he asked, “Where am I?”

  “Up the road from Vyssi Brod Monastery,” Andreli answered. When he got a blank look from Thal, he added, “South of Rosenberg Castle. The Rosenbergs rule in the Sumava.”

  The Sumava sounded familiar to Thal. “That’s the forest,” he said.

  “Yes, the mountains and forest,” Andreli said.

  “Do you know who we are?” Emerald asked.

  Thal looked around the camp. None of the people looked very prosperous. They seemed to be living out of their wagons. He shook his head.

  Andreli chuckled. It was pleasantly surprising not to be recognized and reviled.

  “We’re Gypsies. I am Andreli Suprinova, Lord of my Clan. I guide us as best I can,” he said.

  Thal dipped his head to the leader, which pleased him. “What are Gypsies?” he asked.

  Emerald and Andreli burst out laughing. When Andreli composed himself, he explained that they were descendants of a people forced into exile. Their ancestors in Egypt had refused to give shelter to Jesus and his virgin mother, and they were cursed to wander. Thal found the information quite bewildering although the name Jesus was familiar.

  “Oh, stop giving him those nonsense stories meant to soften the hearts of Church-going simpletons. We travel. We have no home,” Emerald said.

  “You must’ve had a home,” Thal said with heavy sympathy.

  “We’re driven out over and over, but don’t trouble yourself about that,” Andreli said. “Where have you been driven out from?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Thal said.

  “Who b
etter to understand than Lord Andreli?” he countered and touched his chest.

  Thal hung his head. Who indeed? “I don’t know how I got here. I shouldn’t be like this,” he said and looked at his body.

  “That’s right. No one should wander the woods naked,” Andreli agreed. “So you don’t know how you got here?”

  Thal decided that explaining his transformation would be unwise.

  “If you have no home, how do you survive?” he asked.

  Andreli noticed how his guest had flipped the conversation, but he chose to be indulgent. “We survive as people wandering the land always have. We have some livestock. We fish. We trade. And well…not everything men need is available in the village. We’re flexible in ways that others are not,” he said.

  Thal sensed additional meanings behind Andreli’s words.

  More bluntly, Emerald said, “Sometimes we steal, if we have to.”

  “Is stealing bad?” Thal asked.

  Again the man and woman laughed. Emerald sighed and wiped her eye.

  Andreli said, “I don’t like having my things stolen, but sometimes a Gypsy must take something from someone, but only when it’s better that one of us have it and not so much harm to the person who lost it.”

  Thal tried to wrap his head around the notion of material possessions. It had been a long time since he had had anything, except for his fur, but a wolf needed his fur. Thal asked philosophically, “Does anything really belong to anyone?”

  “No!” Andreli declared. He grinned broadly and decided that he liked the stranger despite his mystery.

  “Did someone steal your clothes?” he asked, growing serious again.

  “I had no clothes,” Thal said.

  “Were you attacked by men?” Andreli asked, guessing this was the likeliest explanation. He had noticed some mercenaries around the castle, and he knew it did not bode well.

  Thal shook his head.

  “Oh, you must’ve been hit on the head,” Emerald insisted. She leaned over to look at the back of his head. He recoiled a little and insisted he was fine.

  Andreli slapped his palms against his thighs. “So, Thal, you’ve been wandering naked in the Sumava your whole life,” he concluded sarcastically.

  “Not my whole life,” Thal admitted. His gaze drew inward as he absorbed the onrush of memories released by his use of human words.

  “Where are you from?” Andreli pressed, hoping he was getting somewhere.

  His hosts were patient until finally he answered, “The word Prague is in my mind. Is Prague a place?”

  “Ho ho, it is!” Andreli said. “It’s a great big city and a lovely fancy place. Puts the Bohemia in Bohemia so they say. It seems fitting that one as strange as you is from there.”

  Thal was not sure what Andreli meant by that.

  “How long have you been away from Prague?” Andreli asked.

  Thal struggled to answer. “What year is it?” he said, remembering how people measured time.

  “1561,” Andreli said.

  The answer did not help Thal. He had no other date in his head to compare it too. “I’ll try to remember more and tell you, Lord Andreli. You’ve been kind and I understand you want to know more about me,” he said.

  “I can’t help wanting to know, and it’s my business to know things, but if you must have your secrets so be it. I’ll not put you on an Inquisitor’s rack just because you’re a wild man,” Andreli said.

  “A wild man?” Thal said, intrigued.

  Emerald explained, “Sometimes there’s stories of a boy or even girl that ended up in the woods and survives without people. When they’re found, they walk on all fours and can’t talk.”

  “Have you seen such a one?” Thal said.

  “No, just stories. Gypsies hear lots of stories. Sometimes people drop a few coins to listen to me tell them,” she said. She caught sight of the skinny girl slinking behind the wagon and hollered for her to come clean the pots. The girl glanced at Thal as she obeyed her mistress. She had dark hair and a gentle face and a string of glass beads around her neck. His gaze held her for a moment. Her attractiveness pleased him.

  Forcing his attention back to Andreli, he said, “What can I do to help?”

  “What are you good at?” his host rejoined.

  For a moment Thal felt useless. He had no idea if he had ever possessed any skills, but then he knew his answer. “Hunting,” he said.

  Mildly impressed, Andreli said, “Only a few of the men have bows or spears, but it would be nice to get a deer or boar.”

  “You have many to feed,” Thal commented while scanning the camp. Having enjoyed the kindness of these people, he very much wanted to contribute in some way. It was only natural.

  “Best not let any locals notice,” Emerald warned.

  Andreli frowned at the unnecessary comment.

  Addressing Thal, she continued, “We’ve not been given leave to hunt these lands, but we can fish.”

  “Someone can tell you not to hunt?” Thal said, disturbed by the notion.

  “Rosenbergs, or any baron for that matter, can say how their lands are used or not used,” Andreli said.

  “But how can that be?” Thal wondered, confused. Hunting was so basic to life, and he could not conceive of denying anyone the right.

  “The common lands aren’t as common as they once were. And even less so for interlopers such as we, but worry not, friend Thal. If you’re a good hunter, as you say, then you must be good at not being noticed.”

  “When need be,” Thal murmured. Of course he knew how to be stealthy, but there were also times when revealing his predatory presence gave the advantage of unnerving a target, but this was not one of these times. He did not want to bring trouble to the Gypsies, but obviously Andreli was not against sidestepping rules.

  “I’ll look around for game and come back. Have your men and dogs ready,” Thal said.

  “Very good. We’ll be waiting for you,” Andreli agreed.

  “Good luck getting some work out of them,” Emerald said.

  “Oh, blunt your sharp tongue you mouthy witch,” Andreli said teasingly.

  She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Thal. “Find me a boar. I like that meat,” she said.

  “You think he can take requests like a musician?” Andreli said.

  “There’s no reason not to tell him what I want. I’ll give any man a chance to do what I tell him,” she said.

  “I shall try,” Thal said.

  When he stood up, the clothing moving against his skin still felt a little weird. He tossed his fur over his shoulder and slipped out of the camp while trying to ignore the many curious looks that tagged him.

  ******

  Thal patted one of the dogs trotting happily alongside him. The explosive excitement of the dogs at being taken on a hunt was only beginning to settle. Game was proving sparse so close to settled lands. Peasants hunting through a cold hungry winter had thinned the local stock, but Thal found signs of deer slipping into pastures and budding orchards.

  Then the dogs dashed off chasing rabbits. They caught a couple and tore them up and gulped them down before any men got close. Thal could not blame the lean beasts for claiming the meal, but he asserted his leadership and got them back on the trail of larger game.

  Near the edge of the woods, he spotted grazing cattle and felt the old temptation, but that easy meat plodding along had consequences. Thal suspected that Gypsies killing a local steer might earn the same punishment as hungry wolves that dared to take livestock.

  Eventually, he led his hunting party into brushy canyons. He and the dogs circled ahead of three deer and drove them toward the hunters.

  One was slain. In the privacy of the woods, the men gutted the buck. The dogs feasted gruesomely on the entrails. The bloody sight triggered powerful feelings in Thal and he needed to look away.

  Instead of retracing the meandering route of the hunt, the group cut straight across country back to the river camp. The sinking sun cas
t lovely golden shafts and intensified the flowering green of springtime.

  Andreli and his men were jubilant. The prospect of plenty of meat was a welcome boon to their community, even if it was not the season for fat game.

  Walking beside Thal, Andreli said, “A fine hunt, Thal. You must’ve been apprentice to a kennel master at some castle. I swear these dogs have only eyes for you now.”

  Thal was growing used to Andreli’s frequent speculations about his background. The comments were not unwelcome. They helped to loosen details that had been long forgotten.

  “I don’t recall being apprentice to anyone,” Thal said.

  “So you worked the fields with your father then,” Andreli guessed.

  The face of Thal’s father loomed in his mind. His bare head was bright like a full moon. A fleece hung around his shoulders and tattoo runes crisscrossed his bare chest.

  “I don’t think my father was a farmer,” he said.

  “No,” Andreli agreed pensively. “I suppose that does not fit.”

  “Emerald will be disappointed we didn’t find a boar,” Thal said.

  “I’m proud of our venison. I think we can force her to admit that we did a good job,” Andreli said.

  The woods grew thinner and the land opened on fields and orchards. The Gypsies hung back in the shadows of the tree line so hopefully no one would spot them with their poached game. But Andreli steered Thal into the open while the other men went on. Thal shooed the dogs toward the men carrying the meat.

  Once clear of the trees Thal saw what Andreli was showing him. Blooming orchards and orderly gardens surrounded an impressive cluster of red-roofed buildings inside a stone wall. Tall poles radiated cords tethered in a circle and the first thick green shoots of hops vines were twining up the cords. A few men in white and black robes were working throughout the property. A church tower overlooked it all.

  “The Vyssi Brod Monastery,” Andreli said.

  “It’s a nice looking place. What goes on there?” Thal asked.

  “They’re men devoted to God and Christ,” Andreli explained.

  Thal nodded, starting to recall the omnipresent role of religion.