Tales of the Old World

by Marc Gascoigne

  “Wait?” asked Reiner, baffled. “Why?”

  “My lord, please. I cannot.”

  “You cannot? But you just did!”

  “You surprised me. But we must not continue.”

  Reiner’s brow furrowed. “But then why did you come away with me? Why…?”

  “I came so that we might speak of… all this.”

  “Speak? You want to waste these few precious moments we have speaking?”

  “Hist!” said Franka, turning. “I heard a noise.”

  “None of your tricks,” said Reiner, but now he heard it too: a shuffling and bumping. He and Franka stepped to the lattice.

  Moving somnolently through the great hall below, dressed only in his night shirt, was Udo. His eyes were open but he moved through the room like a blind man pulled by some invisible rope.

  “He sleepwalks,” murmured Reiner.

  “We should make sure he doesn’t do himself a mischief,” whispered Franka, and turned towards the door.

  “But…” Reiner sighed. She was already in the hall. He followed.

  As they started down the stairs to the hall, they saw Udo coming up. They backed around a corner until he topped the stairs and walked away down the hall.

  They started after him. Reiner cursed. He had felt Franka’s desire. It would only have been a matter of time before she succumbed. Now who knew when they could come to grips again.

  Udo turned a corner. When Reiner and Franka reached it, Franka peeked around, then pulled quickly back.

  “What is it?” asked Reiner.

  “A… a woman,” said Franka, frowning.

  “What?” Reiner eased his head around the corner.

  At the end of a short hallway, open doors revealed a scene from some old romantic painting—a couple embracing on an ivy-covered balcony, the lovers haloed softly in the moonlight—except in the painting, the man would undoubtedly have worn breeches.

  The woman was shockingly beautiful, a voluptuous succubus in a plum velvet dress, with glossy black hair and a full-lipped, heart-shaped face. Udo was fully under her spell, trying to close with her like a lust-crazed schoolboy while she held him off.

  “Later, beloved,” she was saying. “We must speak of other things first.”

  The scene felt familiar, but Reiner was so beglamoured by the woman’s beauty he couldn’t remember why.

  A hand pulled him roughly back. “Do you want them to see you?” hissed Franka.

  “I was, er, well…”

  Franka rolled her eyes.

  The woman’s voice floated around the corner: a throaty contralto. “No, beloved. First you must tell me what was said at dinner. Why is Valdenheim here? Does he mean to destroy us?”

  Reiner and Franka froze at the mention of Manfred’s name.

  “Dinner be damned,” whined Udo. “You don’t understand how much I need you. I ache for you.”

  “I know exactly how much you need me, silly boy. Now tell me or I shall leave.”

  Udo yelped. “No! You mustn’t! I will tell! Though they said little enough. Father begged Valdenheim for help fighting the ‘horror’ in the forest, but Valdenheim put him off, saying the Empire hasn’t the resources.”

  “So he hasn’t come to hunt us down?”

  “No. He’s only passing through. Taking spies to be questioned in Altdorf, he said.”

  Reiner and Franka heard the woman’s relieved sigh. “Very good. Now did you tell your father of the white stag as I asked? Has he agreed to the hunt?”

  “I told him, but… but, beloved, is it really necessary to kill him?”

  “He will never consent to our union, my sweet. Or to the kingdom of pleasure we hope to found here. It is best…” She stopped suddenly, then murmured something Reiner and Franka couldn’t hear.

  “What?” said Udo loudly. “Overheard?”

  Reiner and Franka began backing hastily away, but before they could take three steps Udo was around the corner, swinging his fists wildly. “Assassins!” he cried. “Spies!”

  “Hush, beloved!” hissed the woman, following him. “You’ll wake the house.”

  Reiner and Franka dropped Udo with a few well-placed fists and knees, and he rolled away, groaning. The woman was another matter. She flashed towards them like an oiled shadow, stiletto glinting in her hand. Reiner and Franka dropped their hands to their belts, forgetting again that they had no daggers.

  The woman lunged at Reiner, her blade seeking his neck. He grabbed her wrist, trying to force it back. It was like trying to bend iron. He looked in her eyes. They shone with a weird light. His mind began to swim. Franka kicked the woman in the stomach. The beauty snarled and backhanded her, breaking eye-contact with Reiner. Franka flew back, head bouncing off the wall, and she slid to the floor.

  Reiner caught the woman’s arm as she stabbed again, this time averting his eyes, but even using his whole body to hold the stiletto away, still it inched towards his neck.

  Sounds of doors opening echoed down the hall.

  “Unhand her, villain!” cried Udo, staggering up. Franka grabbed his legs. He kicked her in the face.

  “Idiot child!” hissed the beauty. “Be silent!”

  Udo pummelled Reiner. His blows were weak, but a lucky punch to the kidney made Reiner’s knees buckle and the witch’s stiletto jerked forward, gashing his collar bone.

  With a look of triumph, she ripped her arm free of Reiner’s grip and raised the stiletto, but feet were running towards them and they heard the scrape of unsheathing swords. The beauty looked up, cursing. Reiner kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled back, eyes flashing angrily at Udo. “Fool! I told you to be silent.” With a frustrated hiss, she ran to the balcony and leapt over. Reiner half expected her to fly away like some bird of prey, but she dropped out of sight and was gone.

  Udo’s fist caught Reiner on the cheekbone. “Spoilsport! You’ve chased her away!”

  Reiner ducked back and grabbed Udo’s arms. Franka lurched up and caught Udo’s collar from behind, pulling his shirt down over his shoulders to trap his arms. Reiner was about to head butt the youth when he saw a livid mark on Udo’s exposed chest. A small puncture wound, purple-black with infection, rose directly over his heart. It looked like a third nipple.

  “Ware,” muttered Franka, looking past Reiner. “Manfred and our host.”

  Reiner looked back. Manfred and Groff were hurrying towards them in robes and nightshirts, swords drawn, leading a handful of knights and house guards.

  Udo shoved Reiner back and pulled his shirt closed. “Father,” he cried. “These men have assaulted me! Arrest them!”

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Groff, bustling up. “Manfred, aren’t these your prisoners?”

  “They are,” said Manfred. “And I promise a reckoning when I discover who let them out.”

  “My lords,” said Reiner quickly, “there is greater evil afoot here than our petty truancy. Your house is infiltrated, Lord Groff. There is a witch on your grounds. She came to meet your son and just now leapt over the balcony. If you hurry…”

  “What nonsense is this?” barked Groff. “You try to draw attention from your crimes by accusing my son of witchcraft? Manfred, slay these insolent…”

  “But ’tis the truth, my lord,” said Reiner. “She has marked him. You have only to look at his…”

  “Enough,” said Manfred. “What are you doing out of quarters, and who let you out?”

  “My lord,” said Franka, imploring. “She is getting away.”

  “Answer my question, curse you!”

  Reiner ground his teeth. “Here’s your answer, y’damned fools.” And before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Udo’s collar and ripped his nightshirt clean off.

  Groff jumped forward, shouting and swinging his sword as Reiner dodged back. “He assaults my son before my eyes! Stand, villain, I will…”

  But Manfred was staring at Udo, who stood dumbly, with the unclean wound exposed for all to see. Groff followed his gaze
and choked as he saw it.

  “Groff,” Manfred said quietly. “Lock up your son. He has been tainted and cannot be trusted.” He turned to one of his knights. “Strieger, rouse the others and make ready. And lock the prisoners in the carriage. We ride within the hour.”

  “You’re not leaving?” exclaimed Lord Groff. “Not now?”

  “We must,” said Manfred. “This was obviously an attempt to corrupt your house from the inside, but now that they know we know of their existence and their intent, they will try to stop us from warning Altdorf. We must be away before they surround us.”

  “But they’ll slaughter us!” cried Groff.

  “Twenty knights would do nothing to change that outcome,” said Manfred, striding down the hall. “We will pass Boecher’s garrison on our way south. I will ask them to send reinforcements.”

  Groff trotted after Manfred, mewling his distress, as Manfred’s knights took Reiner and Franka in tow while Groff’s guards did the same with Udo.

  “But my lady doesn’t wish to hurt anyone,” whined Udo. “She wants us all to live only for pleasure.”

  A half hour later, the Blackhearts were back in the cramped coach, bouncing and jolting uncomfortably as they raced down the rough track that led to the main Altdorf road. The thunder of Manfred’s knights riding at full gallop drowned out all other sound and made conversation impossible.

  A quarter of an hour out, there came a cry of “Ware, bandits!” and the Blackhearts heard the knights draw steel.

  Reiner and the others crowded to the slatted windows. On both sides of the road was a large, hastily made camp. Bandits caught in the act of raising tents and starting fires were backing towards the woods as they gaped at Manfred’s retinue. Others were snatching up weapons and preparing to fight. But when it became clear that the knights didn’t intend to stop, some of the bandits waved their arms and called out after them.

  “What they say?” asked Giano.

  Pavel swallowed, nervous. “They said, ‘Turn back.’”

  Only a few minutes later there was another cry from the knights, and the coach reined to a sudden, slewing stop. Reiner and his companions again pressed to the windows. It was impossible for them to see forward, but they heard anxious muttering from the knights, and on both sides of the coach the forest crowded too close to the road. “It’s blocked,” said a knight.

  The forest was changed as well. Choking the tall pines and stout oaks were twisted vines, black of leaf, and heavy with purple, pendulous fruit that gave off a cloying odour.

  “The vines,” whispered Giano. “They move.”

  “Dortman!” came Manfred’s voice. “See if a way can be cut.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Hooves trotted forward and the Blackhearts heard a thwacking of sword on vine. “It is very thick, my lord. I can see no end to…”

  His words were cut off by a whistling thud, and a crash of armour hitting hard-packed dirt.

  “Archers!” cried a knight, and suddenly the air was hissing with arrows. They thudded and rattled off the coach and the Blackhearts jerked back from the windows and dropped to the floor in a frightened pile.

  “Fall back!” cried Manfred. “Back to the castle!” As the coach lurched around awkwardly, arrow heads splintered through the back wall. They glistened with green putrescence. Hals hissed. “Poison.”

  Three knights died in the ambush, and two more were dying from cuts that barely bled, screaming in agony as poison burned through their veins. The coachman too had died. Klaus had manned the reins in their headlong flight to the castle.

  Now Manfred conferred again with Groff in the courtyard while his knights stood by, and the Blackhearts, who waited with Klaus.

  “How many men do you have?” asked Manfred.

  “Sixteen knights, my lord,” said Groff. “And forty foot, most with bows and spears, And I’ve pressed the staff into service, though they’ve to make do with pitchforks and fire-irons. Isn’t much, I’m afraid.”

  Reiner followed Manfred’s gaze as the count surveyed the broken walls, where a collection of peasant conscripts, cooks and pot-boys made an inadequate defence. Groff’s “knights”—beardless youths pressed into armour after their older brothers had died in the recent conflict—guarded the widest, most easily breached gaps in the walls. They were spread very thin. Manfred looked grim. Reiner wanted to throw up.

  “Pull half those boys off the wall,” Manfred said, “and set them to tearing apart that scaffolding. Sharpen the ends of the poles and plant them at an angle before the gaps in the walls. Next, use the wood of the stables to make bonfires fifty yards from the walls in all directions so we may see the enemy before they’re at our throats. Pour all the lamp oil you have into the moat and be ready to light it when they attempt to cross. It will not be enough. We will die, but at least we will take as many with us as…”

  “My lord,” said Reiner. “Might I make a suggestion?”

  “You may not,” snapped Manfred.

  “A suggestion that may allow us to win, my lord.” Manfred turned on him, glaring. “What is it?”

  “The bandits, my lord. They are trained men, armed with bow and sword. If…”

  “Absolutely not,” said Manfred. “They are deserters. We cannot count on their loyalty, or their courage.”

  “They are trapped just as we are, my lord. They have little choice but…”

  “Silence! I have said no.”

  “Stiff-necked fool,” said Reiner, furious. “His righteousness will get us killed.”

  The Blackhearts sat on a pile of rubble in a gap in the north wall.

  “Don’t know why he cares,” said Hals. “He don’t have a problem using us, and I’ll lay odds we’re a nastier lot than them bandits.”

  “Aye,” said Reiner. “But he doesn’t have the leash around their necks he has around ours.”

  Reiner looked below them where Groff’s conscripts were wedging sharpened poles into the rubble. Beyond the moat, a wagon full of scrap lumber and brush was crossing the field as more conscripts built bonfires at regular intervals.

  “I no want to die,” said Giano. “Not for foolishnesses.”

  “Nor do I,” growled Hals.

  Reiner sighed. “I think it’s up to us to save ourselves, lads. What do you say we go find those bandits? It’s a poor chance, but it’s better than sitting here waiting for death.”

  The others shot nervous glances at Klaus, then leaned in.

  “I’m in,” whispered Hals. “If you’ve a way.”

  “Won’t Manfred unleash the poison?” asked Franka.

  “Not until he knows we’re gone,” said Reiner. “And when the battle begins, he’ll be too busy to check on us.”

  “But we’ll have to dispose of him,” said Hals, nodding at Klaus.

  “Kill him?” asked Franka uneasily.

  Reiner smirked. “No need to go so far. Plenty of places in all this mess to hide him until we get back.” He looked up. “Hoy, sergeant. I seem to have cut myself. I don’t think I can participate in forthcoming conflict.”

  “Hey?” cried Klaus. “Not participate? Damned if you won’t. Let me see this cut of yours.” Hals grinned and balled his fists as Klaus climbed down to them.

  “Stand where you are, dead men!”

  The Blackhearts raised their arms as a score of spears and five times as many arrows pointed their way.

  After binding and gagging Klaus and tucking him behind a fall of rubble, then crossing the moat with the help of a scaffolding ladder, they had stolen one of the wagons which had been building the bonfires, and rode towards the bandit camp. Now, having found it, Reiner was having second thoughts.

  A huge, broad-chested villain with matted grey hair and a filthy beard stepped through the outlaws, a scrawny boy at his side with the swaying gait and roving eye of an idiot.

  “Brother,” said Reiner. “We come…”

  “Shut yer gob!” said the giant. He urged the boy forward. “Sniff’em out, L
udo. See if they’ve the taint.”

  The boy wove to the Blackhearts’ wagon like a dreamer and reached out limp hands. Reiner recoiled. Giano made the sign of Shallya, but they dared not move. The idiot sniffed and fondled them like a dog with hands, then with a whimpering sigh lay his head on Reiner’s leg. At this the outlaws relaxed a little.

  “Well,” said the giant. “Yer not touched ones at any rate. What do y’want?”

  “We come to ask a boon,” said Reiner, trying not flinch from the idiot’s fawning. “The touched ones, as you call them, mount an attack on Lord Groff’s castle, which is grievously undermanned. He and Count Manfred need your help.”

  The outlaws roared with laugher.

  “Groff needs our help?” asked the leader. “Groff, who hangs us for hunting the deer of the forest. And another jagger who’s no doubt just as bad? Why should we help the likes of them?”

  “Because the alternative is worse.”

  “Yer mad. I’ll dance a jig when Groff is dead.”

  “Would you rather the touched ones ruled here in Groff’s stead?” asked Reiner. “Where would you be then?”

  The outlaws were silent.

  “Groff may hang you now and then,” Reiner continued, “but at least that death comes quick. How many have you lost to the dark lady’s seduction? Good men gone rotten, running naked in the woods, stealing your children to sacrifice to their daemon masters. Is that what you want?”

  The outlaws muttered among themselves.

  The giant crossed his arms. “Nobody wants that. But we don’t care to walk into a noose either. What’s our guarantee that Groff, or this Manfred, won’t turn around and hang us after we’ve saved their worthless hides?”

  “I can offer you no guarantee,” said Reiner, “but I have some sway with Manfred at least, and I will do what I can. Count Manfred is an honourable man. He may even reward you.”

  Franka shot him a look at that. Reiner shrugged. He hoped it wasn’t a lie, but he had to say something.

  After a moment’s conversation with his lieutenants, the big man turned back to Reiner. He nodded. “Alright, silver-tongue, you’ve convinced us. Lead on.”