His father swung a fist at Axel, who moved out of reach without effort and laughed.
“Your fears are the fears of an old woman who cries in the night,” Axel said, eyeing his father with disgust. “The servants tell me that you scream in your sleep.”
“You bastard!” his father screamed. “Get out! Get out of my sight!”
“Gladly,” Axel said, smiling. “I have a burning to attend. Before the warlock screams his last scorched breath, I’ll have the rest of his whoring hags to throw on the fire with him.” As he left his father’s office, he ran into a servant with the day’s mail. Mockingly, Axel bowed low to the startled man, then turned on his heel and departed, his chuckles echoing down the stone hallway.
As Ella ran through the streets of Heidelberg, she was careful to avoid going near the blackened ruins of the little convent. It wouldn’t do to help people put two and two together, she thought. She knew she looked strange. She hadn’t been able to bind her chest and had lost important buttons and snaps. She was falling out of her shirt and fought to keep the cloak wrapped around her. A shorn woman dressed in rags running through the street was an oddity. Everyone knew that nuns cut their hair. She would be suspicious for that reason alone.
As she alternately ran and slunk through the streets, watching the dark forbidding outline of Heidelberg Castle grow nearer, she was buoyed by the thought that she was getting closer to Rowan. She felt him pulling her, although she knew the last thing he would want would be for her to be anywhere near the castle.
When she finally got to the foot of the castle, she scanned the bushes at the entrance and decided she could hide herself well enough to see who was coming and going. If worse came to worse, she would be there when they took him to the market square. With only a Taser and a short handled knife that she’d scooped up during the attack, she might not be able to save either of them, but at least she would feel him in her arms one more time and see his dear face. And that was worth all of it to her.
Rowan crawled his way back to consciousness with the aid of a plaintive howling in his ear. He gasped when he realized he could hear again and that the animal noises of screeching agony were not in the cell with him but somewhere else in the dungeon. He listened to the terrible sounds, rising and falling in an eerie cadence of anguish. He said a prayer for the poor wretch, whoever she was.
Krüger stood next to his man and nodded tersely. The man turned to the writhing woman manacled to the rack and eased the screw back a notch. She collapsed and sobbed in relief from the momentary absence of pain. Clutched in Krüger’s hand was the letter Greta’s monk had delivered not an hour earlier. Within minutes, he had the midwife rousted from her bed and brought to him, bewildered and terrified.
“I swear, lord, I heard your lady tell me with her own words,” the woman said, her eyes rolling in her head. “She told me Axel was someone else’s. Only Christof was yours! I saw her as clearly as I’m seeing you right now!”
“If this is the truth,” Krüger said, mashing the letter in his fist and shaking it in her face, “why did you not come forward before now?”
The woman paused as if searching for words that would keep the pain away. “I didn’t remember it as vividly in my mind before,” she said. “I saw her,” she mumbled, beginning to weep now. “I saw my lady.”
The torturer looked at Krüger. “My lord?”
Before Krüger could answer, Mayer arrived breathless on the stone landing.
“Sir,” he said, gasping for breath and looking at the poor woman strapped to the table before him. “The sheriff would like a word.”
Greta was right. The waiting was hell. Ella moved a few branches from her face and watched the stable boys move about the courtyard as they went through the motions of their work. She had one of the little shits in her crosshairs nearly from the moment she claimed her hiding place. She shifted a cramped leg.
No one had come out or gone in since she’d arrived. No magistrate. No sheriff. At this point, she was just waiting to see them bring Rowan out and head down the road to the waiting pyre in front of the Church of the Holy Spirit.
Should she go in? Even if she were to find the dungeons or wherever they were keeping him, she would surely lose any element of surprise in the process—not that it was going to be all that helpful with one Taser against a castle full of armed guards. Just as likely she would hasten the certainty that she died with him in the castle. On the other hand, she desperately needed Rowan to know that he wasn’t alone, that she hadn’t forgotten him, and that she wouldn’t leave him. Knowing Rowan, that would comfort him not at all.
Was it possible the sheriff was already in the castle? What was taking so long? And what was she hoping to see? Should she assume that Krüger and Axel had slithered out of the noose she and Greta had put together? Was it go-for-broke time? Her finger itched on the trigger of her Taser. Her nonlethal weapon. A fleabite in the grand scheme of things. With no answers, no signs and no intuition to go on, she pulled the branches of the bushes aside and emerged.
Krüger sat behind his desk, his chin locked into place on his chest as if contemplating his vest. The sheriff of Heidelberg was a portly man with a disfiguring birthmark that traveled from the top of his bald head into the woolen collar of his shirt. He was flanked by four armed deputies.
“What evidence do you have for such a charge?” Krüger said. “I presume evidence is still required to prove one’s guilt in Heidelberg?”
“We have the evidence of a rumor that spreads beyond the town walls.”
“A rumor.”
“It is my experience, Herr Krüger,” the sheriff said, “that where there is the smell of pudding burning, you will soon discover burnt pudding.”
“Well said,” Krüger said, “although I am reliably informed that a court of law still requires more than pudding to convict.”
“I would not be here if hearsay were my only evidence.”
Krüger jerked his chin off his chest. His beady eyes darted to Mayer who was steadfastly staring at the pattern on the carpet.
“What evidence?” he said, his voice full of scorn. He knew the sheriff loathed him although Krüger’s absolute power and connection with the Prince had always made that irrelevant to him. In fact, Krüger had enjoyed poking the sharp stick of humiliation at the fat Schwein at every opportunity he could. And there had been many of those through the years.
The sheriff took a step toward the desk and, with a flourish and a smile, laid a document before Krüger on the desk.
“Herr Krüger,” he said, his voice formal but tinged with malice, “we have this document to support our assertion that you have conspired to murder Eric Reicher, the Prince’s Catholic emissary to Heidelberg.”
The despot snatched up the paper. Horror crept into his features as he read.
“By your son’s own admission,” the sheriff said, plucking the letter out of Krüger’s unresisting fingers. “In his own hand. Boasting that he will be lord in your stead when you are put to death for your treasonous crimes against the crown. As you most certainly will be. Guards!”
Krüger stared at the beaming man, then turned to look at Mayer as if beseeching him to stop this nightmare. As the sheriff’s men swarmed the desk to apprehend Krüger, Mayer stopped staring at the carpet just long enough to look up into his master’s eyes. And smile.
Ella knew exactly where she was going. If Axel wasn’t in the dungeons torturing Rowan, he would be in his room. Alone or not, it made no difference. Ella knew she couldn’t kill him with the Taser, but she could at least disable him long enough to get the information she needed about where Rowan was. She felt in her pocket for the extra Taser barb. Her arm brushed past her unrestrained breasts beneath her loose top. Anyone who saw her now would know without a doubt that she was not a boy.
It no longer mattered.
Ella held her Taser in front of her, the nose pointed upward, her finger off the trigger so it didn’t accidentally go off. She didn’t feel nervo
us. She felt determined. Determined to find her husband. Determined not to let anything stand in her way. She bounded up the stairs and walked quickly to Axel’s bedroom. She hesitated outside, listening for voices inside, then pushed the door open.
Greta pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and walked toward the castle. She had pulled off her wimple and allowed her long blonde hair to flow wildly about her shoulders. She knew she looked mad to anyone who saw her. But even though she was wearing black, at least she did not look like a nun. Today was a day for diversions and trickery, she thought. It did no good to play by the rules and die trying. There were too many people who depended on her to enjoy the luxury of fair play.
Before she reached the base of the castle, she heard the sound of many horses pounding the cobblestones behind her. She threw herself off the path and out of the way just in time. The riders came thundering into the castle courtyard. The Protestant magistrate Herr Schwartz and his men dismounted and tossed their reins to the stable boys.
Greta’s heart surged into her chest. They had come. The letters had worked!
As she regained her footing on the path, she watched the five men push past the sentry guards and demand entrance into the castle.
Ella stepped into the bedroom and was immediately overcome with disappointment.
It was empty.
The arm holding the Taser sagged to her side and her mind raced to think where else Axel might be. She knew she had to hurry. The monk said Rowan was to die at noon. She turned to exit the room.
There, standing between her and door, was Axel.
She saw his smirk, his cold blue eyes and the dark purple of his swollen lip telling her that Rowan had not gone down easily. The thought of him galvanized her. She raised her arm and pointed the Taser at Axel.
“It’s you!” he said, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl of delight.
Without speaking a word, she fired at him.
And missed.
Aghast, she turned to flee into the interior of the bedroom but he was on her before she could take a step. He tackled her and threw her face down onto the stone floor. Her Taser flew out of her hand and skidded under the bed as she fell. For a moment, Axel was lying on top of her and she could feel his hardened member press against her back. Effortlessly, he flipped her over and pinned her beneath him on the floor.
“Well, a very special welcome, little nun,” he said, leering at her naked breasts which were now almost completely free of her shirt. “And I thought I would have to find you.”
He held her wrists in an iron grip, twisting them hard until she cried out and then twisting again until Ella thought he would break them both.
“And where are the others, little one?” His face was a mask of hatred and lust. Ella couldn’t imagine she ever thought he was handsome. He was hideous.
“No understand,” Ella said as she struggled. He released one hand long enough to reach up and backhand her hard across the face. The pain exploded in her cheek and she felt her mouth fill with blood.
“Perhaps you will feel more like talking afterwards?” he said, leering at her, his eyes on her breasts.
Ella fought to bring her knee up between his legs but he had her too securely beneath him. All she could do was squirm. Holding both her hands over her head, he ripped her shirt off and threw it behind him. Ella forced herself not to close her eyes, not to disengage. She knew she couldn’t give up, even as she felt his hand grasping her bare breast and twisting it.
“I like it when you fight,” Axel said, breathlessly. “Don’t you know I like it better this way?” He gripped her other breast and began to slowly lower his mouth to her nipple. As she watched him, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. As soon as his face was nearly touching her breast, she jerked her shoulders off the floor and took his ear between her teeth. She bit down as hard as she could. She heard him scream but she didn’t let go. He released her hands to punch her but she was ready for him. As soon as her hands were free, she pushed off him with her knees, sliding on the slick slate floor away from him. He allowed her to scramble under the bed.
“Bitch!” he roared. “I’ll kill you for this! I’ll eat your heart with my dinner tonight!”
Ella had one hand on the Taser and the other on the extra shotgun plug. She felt his hands grab at her under the bed. She tried to kick him in the face but he nearly succeeded in snaring her foot. While she was concentrating on trying to insert the second and last Taser barb into the chamber, he reached far under the bed and grabbed her foot. She twisted on her back, the Taser still unloaded, as he yanked her out from under the bed.
Rowan was sure Axel had threatened to visit him again, but the morning had dragged on and nobody came. The poor woman’s screams had mercifully stopped. He tried not to think how she had been silenced. One thing Axel had unintentionally revealed to him last night was that all of the nuns had escaped safely. He had been given this information in conjunction with the blows that temporarily robbed him of his hearing, but it was a relief to him. The last time he saw Ella, one of Axel’s henchmen between them, was enough to make him go mad. Even when he was being dragged off to a medieval dungeon, he could see she was looking to him for direction. She had obeyed his order to flee. He thought of that look in her eyes that begged him to tell her that all was not lost.
He was jarred from these thoughts by the clang of his cell door being swung open, letting in a shaft of blinding light. He tried to stand but could only get to his knees.
“Get up, warlock!” a harsh voice shouted. “Today all of Heidelberg comes to watch you burn!”
Rowan struggled to his feet. He could not tell who had come for him. It wasn’t Axel’s voice. “Who are you?” he croaked, his voice parched from lack of water.
“Silence! This day, the lord of Krüger keeps the citizens of Heidelberg safe from the Devil’s emissary!”
Still blinking against the harsh light, Rowan felt iron hard hands grab him and drag him through the cell door. The dull pain of his branded back leaped to a searing heat and he gasped at the shock of it.
“Your chariot awaits you, Demon,” the voice snarled.
Tumbling on the slick pavements in the cell, Rowan felt himself being dragged out of the dungeon and into a narrow passageway. When the two men who held him turned to the left to wind their way up to the outside, Rowan thought to himself, Ah well, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.
When Ella felt Axel loosen his grip, she didn’t waste the opportunity but kicked free and scrambled back under the bed. The bed was tall enough to allow her to sit hunched over on her knees. She brought the gun up to her chest, slammed the final barb in the chamber, and aimed the gun at his feet. Just then, Axel’s legs moved away from her, and she realized that someone else had entered the room.
Axel went ballistic. “Get out! Who are you to enter my bedchamber?”
“Herr Krüger?” a deep voice said. “Herr Axel Krüger?”
Ella slid to the edge under the bed where she could see what was happening. Three men and Axel stood in the doorway. Axel was clutching a bloody rag to his mangled ear. Her heart was pounding hard and she prayed they couldn’t hear her breaths coming in terrified rasps.
One man in the doorway was obviously the leader. “I am Magistrate Schwartz,” he said. “I have come to ask if you will deny that this is your handwriting?” He shoved a letter at Axel. “I must tell you that your own valet confirms it is your hand.”
Axel grabbed the letter and ripped it into two pieces. He threw it in the man’s face.
“Get out at once,” he snarled. “Or I will have you boiled in chicken fat.”
“In this letter,” Schwartz continued, “you boast of committing unnatural acts. You relate how you are able to make the fires of Lucifer spring from your fingertips and how you can turn newborn babes into minions of the Devil himself.”
“Is that against the law?” Axel said sarcastically.
“It is against God’s law
,” Schwartz said. He leaned down and picked up the pieces of the letter from the floor. “You boast in this letter,” he said, “that you are above the law, that your work is the bidding of the dark lord.”
“I did not write that, you vermin,” Axel said.
“It is in your hand, Herr Krüger,” Schwartz said.
Axel held out a hand for the letter. Schwartz gave one small piece to him and added, “We must keep all evidence for the trial.”
“What trial?” Axel said with a sneer. He glanced at the magistrate’s men and then at the letter in his hand. “I did not write this,” he said.
“It is in your hand.”
Axel held the piece of paper with both hands, letting the bloody rag drop to the floor. He looked from the letter to the magistrate.
Not so sure now, are you, asshole? Ella thought.
“Perhaps you don’t remember writing it?” Schwartz said.
“Of course, I don’t remember writing it!”
Ella knew what he was thinking and why he looked so confused. Without question, the letter appeared to be in his handwriting.
“The Devil has many wiles and ways to seduce us,” Schwartz said, almost kindly. “Often in spite of ourselves.”
“This is madness!” Axel said, waving the letter. “And lies!”
The magistrate snatched the piece of paper from Axel and tucked it into his vest. He regarded Axel with hooded eyes. “We have another letter, received last week,” he said, “from an eye witness who claims he saw you create fire with your fingers and dance with the dead.”
“An eye witness? Impossible! This is merely an enemy sent to discredit me. Letters make weak proof.”
Heidelberg Effect Page 23