Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  They hustled up the road as dawn broke the horizon. The morning was lovely. Mist curled in the low places and dew sparkled on the yellow kingcups. Not much time passed before they heard a rider ahead on the road. They quickly hid behind some pines, but the dog ran ahead barking happily. Petro appeared.

  “Here!” Andreli cried.

  Petro swung down to the ground and soon spied the blood on his leader’s clothes. He had to look twice at Thal, who was unexpectedly in Jan’s garb.

  “What happened?” Petro asked.

  Thal deferred to Andreli. “I’ll explain later. Get me to Emerald,” the Gypsy leader said.

  “Christ,” Petro whispered when he looked at Andreli’s shoulder.

  “Got myself shot defending Thal,” Andreli said. “I’ve been waiting for him to thank me.”

  Recalling the steadfast bravery of the Gypsy, Thal quickly thanked him. “It was my fault,” he told Petro as he helped push Andreli onto the horse. “Get him out of here. I must bid you goodbye. Thank you for everything. Tell Emerald I send my gratitude.”

  “Where are you going? What happened to the castle guards?” Petro asked, mystified.

  “I scared them off. I think you’ll have time to get away in peace,” Thal said.

  “Scared them?” Petro said incredulously.

  Andreli laughed despite his pain. “He scared them better than the wrath of God,” he said.

  Thal offered Andreli his hand. The man gripped it. Blood was dried under his finger nails.

  “Thank you, Andreli. I’m in your debt for helping me when I was helpless. But I think that I shall manage better in the world now. I am remembering myself. But I must go before I bring more grief upon you,” Thal said.

  Wearily Andreli nodded. He appreciated that Thal cared for him and his people, and he did not regret the kindness he had shown the stranger.

  He gripped Thal’s hand and said, “Thal, you can’t go about in that armor. The roses on it show you to be a man of the Rosenbergs. You’ll never get away with wearing it.”

  Thal touched his chest. He liked the metal and the protection and prestige it conferred. He did not want to give it up but doubted it wise to ignore Andreli’s warning.

  Fortunately the Gypsy offered a solution. “Go downriver. The first town you reach is Budweis. There’s a smith there named Jakub. He has red hair. Tell him I sent you. He’ll trade you fairly for that armor and not wag his tongue about its origin.”

  Grateful for the advice, Thal noted the name Jakub the Smith. “If you have need of me, seek me in Prague,” he said.

  Andreli cracked a smile. He hoped he would not have need of one such as Thal, but perhaps a man could do well to have a beast for a friend. Andreli patted Thal’s hand. “You’re a good man,” he said softly.

  The words meant a lot to Thal.

  In the distance the monastery bell started ringing, and it was not marking the hour. “We must go,” Petro said.

  “Farewell,” Thal said and stepped back.

  Petro led the horse onward but the dog stayed behind. Gerling had lost a pet, and Thal bent down to welcome his new companion. The pain was sharp in his battered ribs, but he endured it so he could scratch the dog’s ears.

  “I’ll call you Pistol,” he decided, and his dog wagged.

  They slipped off the road, careful to leave scant trail, and started cross country toward the river.

  Chapter 9. A Fearsome Sign

  Altea caught hold of the door trim to stop herself when little Erik smeared jam on Jarmila’s apron. The new governess patted his head forgivingly. Jealousy nipped at Altea, but starting today she no longer needed to swoop in and fix every little thing.

  The governess was attending the boys at the kitchen table for lunch. Jarmila took the jam covered spoon that Erik had been fumbling with and spread the jam for him. Altea thought that it was time he learned to do such things himself, but she admonished herself to stop overseeing the new governess. All morning she had been hovering as Jarmila learned her way around the house.

  She’ll be glad to see me leave the house, Altea thought. Cynthia and Esther could handle the new woman’s questions. Jarmila seemed more at ease speaking with the servants anyway.

  Having the afternoon free shocked Altea now that the reality had actually happened. Her prodding had kept the hiring of the governess on schedule with Martin, and now only a month later Jarmila was officially employed. Altea supposed she would have to leave her brothers alone in the governess’s care eventually, and she might as well start on the first day. If anything egregious happened, the eldest Elias was mature enough to handle it or at least report it to her.

  There were some cloth merchants that Altea had been intending to visit. She needed fabric worthy of nice gowns. Dour dresses of mourning were not suitable for catching the eyes of suitors. A tingle of unfamiliar anticipation startled her as she imagined being the object of male attention.

  “I’m going to the market,” Altea announced from the doorway.

  Cynthia who was sitting at a smaller work table with her lunch plate between two bowls of rising dough said she would be ready to go when she finished eating.

  “No need. I’ll go by myself,” Altea said.

  Elias glanced up as he bit into bread. His natural protectiveness was aroused at the thought of his sister going out alone, but Altea was already down the hall.

  A little smile brightened her face as she walked down Karlova Street. She admired the blue sky with perfect fluffy clouds and made sure not to look at the noxious trickle flowing along the low point of the street toward the river.

  When Altea reached the Knights of the Cross square, she headed straight for the covered booths in the textiles section. In the nice weather the cloth sellers set up displays outside their shops to catch more eyes. Passing by the plain wools and linens was a pleasure. The exciting colors and textures rolled up on shelves beckoned her. The man behind the table greeted her like he understood all her hopes for what the fabric might bring.

  He had some lovely soft weaves of delicately dyed linen and wool and even silk. Her fingers lingered against the exotic fabric brought from places beyond any map she had ever seen. Bright green leaves and vines full of flowers and fruits adorned the cloth. She imaged all the work that had gone into the weaving and dyeing. Altea fell in love with a pale blue silk enlivened by pointy artichoke plants and highlighted with yellow threads. Martin would surely bark at the price but she ordered it anyway. When he inevitably complained she planned to remind him that he was not going to use her to fortify his position if she was cheaply bedecked.

  Her next choice was a fine glossy linen. Deep burgundy vines and white doves spread across the buff background. She selected solid burgundy silk to trim the new dress with and then she envisioned making a little cape out of it too.

  After arranging for the delivery and advising the merchants on how to collect from Magistrate Fridrich, she went home. She trotted up the front steps on light feet and was pleased to find her brothers minding their tutor. No disasters had occurred in her absence and she thanked Jarmila for keeping the boys on task.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Altea,” Jarmila said in a modest tone even if her expression was a tad smug.

  When Martin came home that evening, he was also pleased that his children had nothing bad to report about the governess. Altea was relieved as well and appreciated the boys’ cooperation at least on the first day. Having pushed for the addition of a governess, a miserable start to the arrangement would have made Altea look bad. Instead she looked mature and capable. To maintain her stepfather’s good mood, she decided not to mention her shopping.

  After dinner, Jarmila took the youngest three boys outside to play with other neighborhood children. Elias wandered off to look for his friends. While Esther cleared the dishes, Martin asked Altea to stay. She waited patiently in her chair while Hynek poured her stepfather some wine. His hand shook while holding the carafe but he did not dribble.

  “I’v
e arranged for us to attend a Sunday luncheon at Alderman Feik’s next week. I expect that should please you. It’ll be a big affair,” Martin said.

  Although a Sunday lunch party was not as exciting as an evening banquet, Altea accepted it as a good start toward showing herself off. “Wonderful of you to arrange the invitation, Papa Fridrich,” she complimented.

  “Perhaps I must agree that I kept you shut away too long. The news that you would attend was greeted rather happily, I am told, by more than a few eligible men of Prague,” Martin revealed.

  “Oh who? Tell me names,” she said.

  “Now, girl, we don’t want this game to end in a day. For now it’s your part to arouse interest, not yourself,” he advised.

  Altea grasped that he wanted to enjoy many invitations to many important households. She did not resent his strategy that would give her a chance to make up for lost years of youthful socializing.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Remember not to make anyone hate me with your sharp tongue,” he admonished.

  “A tongue is only sharp to blunt ears,” she said and headed for the door, not bothering to wait for him to excuse her.

  Martin grumbled into his glass.

  Altea spent the rest of the evening planning a dress design until the light faded. Then she kissed her brothers good night except for Elias who was still not home and left the governess with them to say their prayers. Afterward Jarmila retired to her new room in the attic looking quite exhausted.

  After getting a drink of water in the kitchen, Altea mounted the stairs lost in a daydream about meeting a handsome alderman’s son or perhaps even an administrator at the royal castle. The front door bell interrupted her entertainment. Hynek shuffled into the foyer. Easing herself into the shadows halfway up the steps, she positioned herself to spy. A rectangle of light cast by a lantern spilled across the floor when Hynek opened the door.

  “Professor Zussek, please enter. I’ll announce you to the Master,” Hynek said.

  Curiosity pinned Altea in her hiding spot. She was acquainted with her stepfather’s law professor friend from Charles University, but she wondered about the late visit.

  Martin’s surprised but happy voice welcomed his friend, and they exchanged pleasant greetings. Hynek lit more candles. Altea heard the clink of crystal as schnapps was poured in the study.

  She sat down on the dark steps when Martin dismissed his valet. Hynek walked out of the study slowly and shut the doors behind him. He headed to the back of the house where he had a room. Altea crept down the stairs.

  Excitement fluttered in her chest. She softly tiptoed to the study and pressed her ear against the wooden door. The men were gossiping about the new archbishop. They continued to talk about the Church’s increased efforts against Protestant influence until Altea got a little bored. A yawn seized her face.

  When she put her ear back to the door, the schnapps decanter tinkled against the crystal glasses again and both men soon sighed with satisfaction.

  Zussek resumed their chat. “It’s not just Protestants to worry us.”

  “You’ve something intriguing to tell me don’t you?” Martin said.

  “I’ve been holding something a few weeks. It should’ve been presented as evidence but it was brought to me instead,” Zussek admitted.

  “Evidence?” Martin said. His tone perked up considerably.

  “It was taken from one of those witches you processed this spring,” Zussek said.

  Altea gasped silently. She heard Zussek set something on a table.

  “Which one? We put down at least a dozen,” Martin said.

  “The last one that was caught,” Zussek said. Altea covered her mouth. Gretchen had been the last one executed. The professor continued, “Your constable took this from her. I have an academic interest in cataloging demonic items, and he knows to bring me such things when he runs across them,” Zussek explained.

  “I didn’t know he did that,” Martin grumbled.

  “Forgive me then. I should have mentioned it to you sooner,” Zussek said.

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Martin said. “It’s just a little box,” he added, presumably finding its demonic potency dubious.

  “Inside is the Devil’s own hair, taken from the hand of the witch. I’m certain of it,” Zussek said with authority.

  Martin commented, “Yes, that’s hair.” Altea assumed he had opened the box. “Why are you showing me this?”

  Altea imagined Zussek’s disappointment at her stepfather’s lack of excitement at what sounded so shocking. He was famous for not showing excitement. The professor said, “Martin, I wanted to impress upon you the importance of this witch situation. Our society is beset by evil from within as well as without.”

  Martin chuckled. “I assure you I get to oversee the tedious details of that truth most every day.”

  “This is serious,” the professor insisted.

  “I know, and I’ve never hesitated in my duty to see the worst of this world sent from it. If the Church sends us heretics and witches to prosecute, we’ll do it. If the King wants traitors hanged, they’ll swing. If the rabble gets in a froth about some hag hexing the cows, the Court is ready to deliver judgment, as long as there’s somebody to pay the Court’s costs.”

  “I know,” Zussek said. “Forgive me, my friend. I know you do your best, but this charm is very disturbing. I wanted to talk to you about this particular witch. You knew her. She had been in this very home many times.”

  “What are you implying?” Martin said, growing defensive.

  “Nothing. These magic workers ensnare all manner of decent folk,” Zussek said soothingly.

  Quietly Martin admitted, “I had come to wonder if my wife was under some kind of spell from that woman. She always tried to avoid the doctors I brought to her. Always she wanted Gretchen. She delivered all the boys…”

  “Did you notice anything extraordinary about her case?” Zussek said.

  “It was reported to me that she was attempting suicide when she was caught,” Martin divulged.

  “Aha! She was trying to invoke some dark spell. I’m sure of it. We must be vigilant. More’s to come of this,” Zussek declared.

  “More? What do you mean?” Martin said. The nervousness in his voice was strange for Altea to hear.

  “There’s great wickedness throughout the whole Empire. All these heretics are a sure sign that the folk are sick with witchcraft and devilry. It’s been building for years,” Zussek said.

  “I think we made good headway against it this spring,” Martin said.

  “But what if this Gretchen cast some curse? Her blood is dried all over this Devil’s lock. That’s a fearsome sign. These suicide attempts are common I’ve found, but I’ve never seen one so closely associated with such a strange charm,” Zussek said.

  Martin gulped the last drops of his drink and then said, “I did not mind seeing Gretchen go. When her accomplices named her a witch, I was not surprised. In retrospect it made me suspect that she had hastened the death of my dear wife.”

  Altea went cold. Her mind flashed back to that final night when Gretchen had visited. Mother had begged for her, and Altea had sent a neighbor woman to fetch her from outside the city wall. Altea shut her eyes. She hated the memories. She tried not to think about them. She tried not to believe, but she had overheard her mother asking for something to bring her to the end of the pain.

  With a shudder Altea shook off the trauma and put her ear back to the door.

  “We should destroy this lock of hair,” Martin said.

  “It’s for my collection,” Zussek said.

  “We should destroy all evidence of her and any possible connection to me,” Martin said.

  “There’s nothing to specifically link it to you. It’ll just be an example of Devil worshipper relics in my collection. I’ll be publishing a book on the subject soon. Actually, I’d like to be your expert witness when these type of cases arise again…and they will,”
Zussek said.

  “Expert witness? Zussek, they confess during interrogation. We hardly need witnesses,” Martin said.

  “But my testimony would add value to the proceedings and better excite the public imagination and make your work appear most important. It’ll also impress upon the Court’s patrons the importance of continued compensation in the pursuit of this problem. We need to keep our leaders fixed on this menace and excite the people with details,” Zussek said.

  “Oh, I see,” Martin said thoughtfully. “And I have your word not to mention that witch’s interaction with my family?”

  “I swear,” Zussek said.

  “Well I suppose everyone has to trust a lawyer eventually,” Martin said. Both men laughed.

  Zussek said, “And don’t worry too much. Everyone had contact with that last slew of witches. Everyone wants to forget it and move on, but there will be more devilry to come. I promise you.”

  “Since you’re the expert what do you think it will be?” Martin asked.

  Altea held her breath to make sure she heard clearly.

  “Young lady, what are you doing?” Hynek said.

  She whirled and was face-to-face with the valet. The old creep was in his slippers and she had not heard him because she was so absorbed in eavesdropping.

  “You know what I was doing,” she hissed without shame.

  “The Master will hear of this,” Hynek said, staring her down.

  Uncowed Altea knocked on the door herself. Martin said enter. She poked her head inside. Her sweet smile instantly beguiled the professor as she greeted him politely.

  “Papa Fridrich, when I realized you had a guest I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed because Hynek had gone to bed,” she said.

  Hynek shouldered his way by her and said, “She was eavesdropping.”

  “I was not!” Altea cried. “If you weren’t so lackadaisical about your duties, I wouldn’t have needed to come down here. I was just trying to figure out who was here.”

  Outrage crinkled Hynek’s wrinkled face.

  “We’re all right. Both of you go,” Martin said.