ALTDORF (The Forest Knights: Book 1)

by J. K. Swift

  “The charges were false. You knew it and did nothing,” Noll said.

  “I tried to help your father, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

  “You did nothing!” Noll stepped forward and grabbed Furst’s cloak with both fists. “You failed to act then just as you sit in the woods now like frightened rabbits while the Austrians take our homes and our land.” The guards moved towards Noll but Furst waved them off.

  Stauffacher moved in and laid a hand on Noll’s shoulder. “Easy lad. Henri is a friend of many a man here, as well as a father.”

  “Believe me Arnold, I tried everything within my power to have your father tried in my court. But Landenberg would have none of it. He has since accused me of sympathizing with rebels against the German Empire and I fear it is only a matter of time before he finds a way to remove me from my seat.”

  Seraina slid forward through the brush. She had no fear of being seen. The trees embraced her and accepted her presence amongst them as one of their own. A cool breeze stirred the leaves of a low hanging willow branch, rustling at her in warning, but she parted them and peered out like a curious child half hiding in her mother’s skirts.

  She faced Noll’s back and saw his shoulders bunch up, tensing under Stauffacher’s touch. Noll released Furst and stepped away from the two old men and turned towards Seraina’s hiding spot, his face bathed in the wavering glow of torchlight. The pain she saw there made her cringe.

  She had tried to talk to Noll about his father, tell him it was not his fault. But what Furst had said about the elder Melchthal being stubborn was equally true of his son. These men of the Alps had a willful streak to them that was at once their curse and their greatest strength.

  Henri Melchthal had been accused of not meeting his annual grain quota, so Landenberg gave orders to his tax collector to seize a team of Henri’s prized oxen. Noll argued with the man and ended up rapping his hand with an ax handle when he tried to take the oxen by force. The collector fled the young Melchthal’s wrath with several broken fingers. A few days later Landenberg himself came with an escort of soldiers. While Noll hid in the woods and watched, Landenberg allowed his collector to burn out Henri Melchthal’s eyes with the very same ax handle Noll had struck him with.

  Perhaps Noll felt Seraina’s presence, knew she stood only paces away and had caught him in a vulnerable moment, for suddenly he dragged a hand across his face and gave the woods a long, blank stare. She leaned back and held her breath, feeling guilty for having experienced Noll’s pain without his knowing.

  Noll turned back to the group of men. He stared hard at Furst and let out a slow breath before he spoke.

  “I am sorry for my words Walter. I know you did what you could. It would do our people little good to have the last non-Austrian Judge removed from office.”

  Noll whirled to face the other men and raised his voice. “One territory cannot stand against the might of the Habsburgs, but if the guilds of Zurich and Berne joined with the Eidgenossen we could drive the Austrian dogs from our doorsteps for good.”

  “You are a fool,” the leader of the men from Berne said. “The Habsburgs have the might of the German Princes at their command. This is nonsense. I will not listen to any more of this.”

  “And when will you listen? You think you are safe behind your city walls? For the time being perhaps. But what will happen once the Habsburg fortress is complete at Altdorf? They will control all trade that flows through Italia to the Hanseatic League of the North Sea. Altdorf will be the new Habsburg center of commerce and they will choke the flow of goods to your cities and tax your caravans like you have never known.”

  Studer, the Zurich guild leader, crossed his arms and laughed.

  “And what would an outlaw hiding in the hills know of commerce, boy? What information are you privy to that the guilds of Zurich and Berne are not? We have given the Altdorf fortress much thought and when it is completed, we will survive. We will pay our tithes when they come due, but in the meantime, our guilds profit nicely at Duke Leopold’s expense. One of the first rules of business is do not bite the hand that feeds you.”

  Noll opened his mouth to respond, but an old woman’s voice rang out across the clearing before he could speak.

  “Some hands you would be wise to snap at Master Studer.”

  Gertrude of Iberg stood at the path, leaning on an ancient walking stick, and since she carried no torch, the guards there jumped at her words, surprised as anyone at her sudden appearance.

  Of course, Seraina had been hearing whispers of Gertrude’s approach for some time and was relieved the woman had made the climb safely. She put her hand over her mouth lest the glint of her smile give her away to those around the fire.

  “Is there anyone who does not know of this secret meeting?” one of the Berne men asked.

  Furst threw up his hands. “Werner, what is your wife doing here?” Stauffacher cast him an apologetic look and shrugged.

  “Werner, do not answer him. Come help me get these old bones over to the fire. And Walter keep quiet. I am sure you have said enough already tonight.”

  Stauffacher scurried over to take her arm and the men made room for the old woman around the fire. Few people did not know Gertrude of Iberg, but she had retreated from actual council work in recent years, so her appearance at the secret meeting of the Oathbound was unusual.

  Studer bowed his head stiffly. “You look well Gertrude. The years favor you more than most.”

  “Time has no favorites, but I appreciate any show of civility I can get from a merchant,” she said.

  She bent down and grasped a piece of firewood larger than a woman her age should be attempting to lift, and flicked it onto the fire, sending a plume of sparks drifting up to rival the stars.

  “Zurich and Berne would do well to listen to the likes of Arnold Melchthal. What the boy says is true. Leopold has designs for these lands and I fear none of us will prosper by the likes of him.”

  The man from Berne spoke up. “Berne is a free city state, granted the right to rule herself by the German Emperor before my father’s time. We have no quarrel with the Habsburgs.”

  Noll turned on him. “As was Schwyz, and the free men of Uri. But look around and count the Austrian soldiers that patrol our towns, and the corrupt judges that sentence our people. Walter, how many of our countrymen have been sentenced to work on the Altdorf fortress now? Fifty? A hundred? How many have died? Just last week the Menznau boy was found thrown out like so much garbage. Leopold keeps that fortress clouded in secrecy so we have no way of knowing how many of our sons and daughters have suffered similar fates.”

  Seraina’s smile left her face at the mention of the Menznaus. She wrapped her arms around herself and was suddenly aware of the coolness of the night. She imagined herself standing amongst everyone near the fire, and although the thought warmed her, her smile did not return.

  “And if you controlled the Gotthard, just how much would you charge my caravan to pass?” Studer said, a contemptuous smile on his lips.

  “Nothing,” Noll said. “I would welcome every merchant at the top of the pass with open arms. Provide a warm, safe refuge to water and feed his animals, let him rest, and send him on his way when, and only when, he wished.”

  The men around the fire laughed. Noll raised his voice to be heard.

  “Word would soon spread and merchant caravans would be lining up to use the free Gotthard Pass. And as they descended into Andermatt, the villagers there would also welcome them. Of course their services would not be free, but they would be appreciated nonetheless. The innkeepers would feed the travelers, the smiths would shoe their mules, apothecaries would heal them, and the resources to accomplish all this would come from the farms and trades people surrounding the town. The coin from these foreigners would travel far into the countryside. And it would be the same for every town and village the merchant caravans passed through.”

  The men no longer talked amongst themselves as Noll’s words took h
old.

  “Merchants and locals alike would prosper,” the man from Berne said.

  “Everyone except the Habsburgs,” Studer said. “Therein lies the flaw in your plan. Leopold would never allow free passage through the Gotthard.”

  Noll grinned. “Consider it a redistribution of wealth.”

  “Well this is a first. A highwayman waving folks through without charging for safe passage,” the Berne man said. “But all fantasy aside, the Habsburgs are not going to pack up their Altdorf fortress and leave.”

  Noll nodded. “They will need persuading. And that is why we have to act soon. The Holy Roman Empire has been torn apart since King Albrecht died, and the Habsburgs are fighting to get one of their own crowned again. I hear rumors of war between Frederick and Louis the Bavarian, which means Leopold will have no money, and no soldiers to send against us.” He looked at Furst and said, “But we have to move before the fortress is finished, and Leopold cocoons himself up in it.”

  For a few moments the only sound was the popping and sizzling of sap boiling in burning logs. Finally the Zurich and Berne leaders agreed to take the matter back to their respective cities and hold council with their guild associations. They left the clearing before the darkest hours of the night to begin the long journey home.

  “I hope you know what you have set in motion,” Gertrude said to Noll when the guildsmen had left.

  Seraina did not hear his reply, but she could hardly contain the excitement she felt. At last, the Catalyst had awakened.

  Chapter 11

  “DID THE WITCH’S brothers give you any trouble?” Leopold asked.

  Gissler shrugged, and his hand went to the fresh scratch marks on his cheek, just now beginning to scab over. “Not as much as she did, my lord.”

  Leopold leaned back in his upholstered chair and looked at the motley group forced to their knees before him. The three brothers were chained to one another at the neck, and their wrists and ankles were likewise shackled. All of them had black eyes or bloodied faces. One could barely walk and was helped along by the other two.

  Gissler had done well, Leopold thought. It may be time to put some men under his command.

  He turned his attention to the woman. She lay curled up on her side on the flagstone floor. Her right thumb was shackled to her right big toe, as was her left thumb to her left toe, making it impossible for her to walk. A necessary precaution, for if the witch’s hands were left free, she would be able to cast spells and carry out the Devil’s mischief. The guards had carried her into the throne room suspended from a thick pole, and slid her off onto the cold floor at Leopold’s feet.

  The young Duke let out a breath, and with it, some of the tension of the last few days. Constructing the new fortress at Altdorf was moving far too slowly. Mid-winter was when many merchant caravans set out over the Gotthard Pass. It was crossable once the heavy snows had fallen and crusted over, but when spring came its trails became too soft for carts, and the threat of avalanches of melting snow was constant. The footing would remain too treacherous for most travelers until the first day of summer. This meant that if Leopold did not have his tollgates active before winter, he would have no revenues from the pass until well into next summer, almost a year from now. With Frederick’s campaign already eating up most of the Habsburg coffers, Leopold knew he could not wait that long. The Altdorf fortress must be finished before the first snows fell.

  There was still time, but he needed more workers. He had sent a messenger to his brother requesting fifty more laborers (he knew Frederick could not spare soldiers) and was confident they would arrive any day now.

  Added to these worries was the pressure of his upcoming marriage only two weeks away. Lady Catherine and her entourage would arrive on the morrow and the thought of having to don his courtly mask of manners twisted his lips in a grimace. Originally set for next year, Leopold had pushed for his betrothal to take place earlier. The dowry was needed now, not in a year’s time.

  A moan came from the witch as she tried to shift herself into a position that eased the pressure on her thumbs and toes. She was young, with an angelic face. How did the Devil manage to recruit one so full of innocence? Yes, this was just the diversion he needed. There was nothing like the battle of good versus evil to take one’s mind off matters of state.

  “Shall I remove the witch and her servants to the dungeon to await trial your lordship?” Leopold’s secretary asked.

  The young duke nodded.

  “Take the men away but leave the woman. And summon the judge. I would try her within the hour.”

  “Today? But my lord, may I remind you that you have other appointments to make preparations for the arrival of Lady Catherine—”

  Leopold waved his hand and brushed the comment aside. He looked at the girl and caught her eye briefly. She trembled and looked away, apparently not finding any comfort under Leopold’s intense gaze. Few ever did.

  “Cancel all my appointments,” he said. “Keeping my people safe from the Devil’s spawn must take all precedence. Now get me that judge. And summon my scribe. There may be useful information gained here today for my manuscript.”

  The secretary bowed and hurried from the room. A short, black and white clad Fool followed closely behind imitating the secretary’s hasty shuffle, the soft tinkling of bells punctuating every step.

  But for once, Leopold did not notice.

  ***

  “What do you know of witches, Gissler?” Leopold asked, squinting beneath a hand raised to block out the bright sun. He strained his eyes to keep track of the naked body of the girl as she bobbed in the slow-flowing river.

  A guard on either bank held her in the middle with ropes tied around her waist. Her thumbs and toes still clamped together, she struggled to float on her back, gasping for air. Then the current rolled her over in slow motion like a piece of driftwood. There was a series of frantic splashes beneath the surface of the water before a guard righted her by pulling on one of the ropes. She broke the surface coughing and gasping for breath, her eyes bulging with terror. A judge, a wizened man in a black and yellow ceremonial cloak, stood at the riverbank, staring intently at the proceedings.

  “I have no experience with witches, my lord,” Gissler said.

  Leopold’s eyebrows arched and he cast a sidelong glance at Gissler. “A cautious answer. But I suppose it would not do for one of God’s soldiers to admit to keeping company with Satan’s kin.” He focused again on the dunking, anxious to not miss any outward displays of devilry.

  “Fascinating creatures, really. But this one is not as clever as some I have seen tested. Perhaps she is too young. Her craft has not matured properly.”

  He may be right, Gissler thought. She had indeed failed the very first test.

  Once the judge arrived in the receiving hall, he had the guards strip the girl bare, and while she screamed and then sobbed quietly, he examined her body carefully looking for non-human marks. When he found something suspect, a freckle that was too large, or a swollen lump of tissue, he would poke it with a needle to see if it bled. After testing spots on her thighs, buttocks, and neck, which all bled, he finally inserted the needle into the lower part of her left breast. He pulled it out, looked at the needle, then roughly lifted her breast up and examined the location. He passed sentence immediately.

  “No blood my lord. The Devil protects this one, there can be no doubt.” The judge was convinced, and that should have finished it, but Leopold had insisted they perform a dunking trial as well. His scribe was to carefully record the results for Leopold’s witchcraft manuscript he had been working on for the past several years.

  “There! Did you see that? She floats with no aid from the ropes,” Leopold said. Wonder filled his voice as he pointed at the girl whose struggles were growing less with every moment.

  “I saw it too your grace,” the judge shouted. He shook his head. “There can be no doubt.”

  “I am not King, so call me ‘grace’ again and I will have you
flogged.”

  “Forgive me, your…lordship. I served your father for too many years and my tongue has grown careless. But I am sure it will not be long before another Habsburg sits upon the German throne.”

  Leopold waved the man to silence.

  “Did you see that Gissler? It makes one’s blood run cold does it not?”

  Leopold craned his neck to get a better look at the Devil’s handiwork. He walked to where the judge stood and signaled the soldiers to let go of the rope. As they did so, the girl who had now been facedown in the water for several minutes and was no longer struggling, continued to float, and drifted a short distance on the river’s almost imperceptible current. The judge gasped, and both he and Leopold made the sign of the cross in front of their faces. Leopold barked at the soldiers to take up their rope again quickly.

  Gissler saw nothing but a young girl drowned to death.

  When Leopold turned back to Gissler, his face was alight. “You did a good thing bringing me this creature,” he said.

  Gissler bowed. “I am here to serve, my lord. But one question if I may…”

  “Of course.”

  “The witch’s guilt was proven beyond all doubt, because even shackled, she could float?”

  Leopold nodded. “Even now, though she is most likely dead and her stomach filled with water, she still floats.”

  Gissler nodded. “I see. And if she sank to the bottom of the river, it would have proven her innocence?”

  “Of course,” Leopold said.

  “But in all likelihood, she would be just as dead,” Gissler said.

  “Yes, and God would have received her into his Kingdom,” Leopold said, looking perturbed.

  Gissler nodded, masking his thoughts. Having been part of the Hospitaller navy for twenty years, he knew very well what dead bodies did in open water. Some floated, some sank, a few drifted between the bottom and the surface. The only way to guarantee a body would sink to the ocean floor, was to cut the air from its lungs and weight it with a bag of rocks.