The guards standing near the children started kicking at their feet. The little children on the floor sat up one by one, their eyes barely open. But the two oldest children were wide-eyed and stared straight at Katerina and Steffan and Hennek.
“You too,” Hennek sneered at Kat and Steffan. “Get up and get to work. Let’s see how much silver you can dig out of my mine.”
Katerina got up off the floor and stood beside Steffan. Hope surged. Hennek couldn’t resist feeding his pride, but it would keep them from being killed right away.
They both went to the wall. Would they be given one of the little pickaxes? They were small but could certainly be used as weapons. But when they reached the spot Hennek indicated, the guards gave them each a small chisel with a dull, flat end.
The poor children seemed to know their own stations and were already standing or kneeling at them, hacking away at the hard rock. Even in the relatively dark mine, Katerina could see the veins of ore running through the rock walls.
Heat and fury welled up from Kat’s gut.
“Get to work,” one of the guards ordered. Something pressed her side and she looked down to see the guard was jabbing her with a stick.
She glared at him, but he glared right back. When she turned back to the rock in front of her, Steffan was watching the guard from the corner of his eye. The guard backed away a foot or two and Steffan whispered, “We will escape. Soon.”
Yes, Hennek would regret not killing them. He was so greedy and loved to puff himself up, and that would be his demise.
Fourteen
Finally, after many hours of work, Steffan and the rest of the workers were allowed to lie down and sleep. Katerina lay her one blanket near his. He waited, holding his breath. Would the guards separate them?
Steffan lay down quickly, his head near hers. The floor was hard and uneven, but he had slept on the ground many nights. He imagined Katerina, even though she was used to a soft bed, was probably too tired to notice. Her eyelids had been drooping for hours, and she stumbled when she moved.
So far he had made note of every bit of the mine that was within his view. He wasn’t sure how, but they would escape. It was only a matter of time. And when his father found out what Hennek had been doing, he would be outraged and would bring swift justice.
A slight pang nipped Steffan’s chest to think he had once accused his father of being unjust, to think of how he had defied his father and disobeyed him. For the past year, the truth had slowly dawned on him more and more. His pride had taken a beating, admitting to his brother Wolfgang that he had been wrong. When he began to think that his anger had been foolish and unnecessary, all these last many months, he’d felt adrift.
He had to change the way he thought about many things. His father was a good man, just and fair. Steffan had been foolish to distrust him. His faults were very hard to admit, even to himself, but he’d experienced what happened when a man deceived himself into thinking his actions were righteous when they were not.
He’d been wandering a circuitous path from Poland toward home for the past year, seeking adventure and fortune, looking for a way to redeem himself. Pride. That was what was keeping him from going straight home. Joining the Teutonic Knights, seeing how warped their leader’s motives were, and having to fight against his own brother, whom he loved, perhaps more than any other person in the world, had begun to open his eyes. And remembering the men he had killed in battle, men who were only defending themselves and their land and their families . . . That was certainly the worst part.
Why was he thinking about this now? He had to stay alert to an opportunity to escape and get Katerina and these children out of here.
Poor Katerina. She was probably already asleep. His own eyes were burning, and so was the cut on his chest.
The guards were gathering at one side of the room. Finally, Rugen joined them.
“Did you see those children? I wish the guards would let us talk to them.”
Katerina was speaking to him. He rolled over and found himself face-to-face with her. Even though her eyes were red from exhaustion, they gleamed in the torchlight as she spoke.
“Which children?”
“The two older ones, the boy and the girl. I think they will help us.”
What could two children do to help? But he didn’t want to discourage her. They had to keep their hope alive.
“They may know things we don’t about the mine to help us,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter.
“That is true. Are you cold?”
“Not very much.” Her voice sounded groggy. She wasn’t accustomed to going two days and nights without sleep.
“Go to sleep now.” He sat up and said loudly in the direction of the guards, “Hennek’s daughter needs another blanket. Hennek wouldn’t like one of his best workers dying because of the cold.”
“It’s not cold in here,” one of the guards barked back.
“How do you know what Hennek wouldn’t like?” said another.
A third guard muttered something as he fetched a blanket from the pile on the floor. He took a step toward Steffan, then tossed it to him.
“Thank you,” Steffan said.
He laid it over Katerina, who, even as tired as she obviously was, lay in a defensive position, on her side with her hands in loose fists resting on her chest. Her eyes were open a slit as she watched him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Steffan wanted to be able to say that he would stay up all night and keep watch while she slept, but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep his eyes open, since they were in no immediate danger. And just as he’d expected, he soon heard Katerina’s heavy, even breathing indicating she was asleep. The guards were still talking as a new group came in and the others left. These new guards looked very sober and attentive. Soon Steffan’s eyes were closing and he was drifting.
* * *
After two days in the mine, Katerina had convinced a guard to give Steffan another shirt, one that wasn’t slashed across the chest, exposing him to the cool underground air. Thankfully the cut had scabbed over and didn’t look as hideous as it had previously. When she handed him the new shirt, he gave her a half smile and thanked her.
He drew his old torn shirt over his head with one quick motion. Kat spun around to give him some privacy, but not before she caught a glimpse of taut stomach muscles and bulging arms. When she turned back around, he was fully clothed again.
The guards were allowing them their afternoon rest time, so Kat and Steffan both sat down with their backs against the wall. Kat looked at her palm in the dim torchlight. It was covered in mine dust and blisters. She rubbed the worst blister very carefully, saying a prayer it wouldn’t break open and fester.
She had also managed to get close enough to some of the younger children to talk to them. That morning a little girl had hurt her finger with the chisel. When she started crying, Katerina walked over to her and comforted her. The guard yelled at her, but she ignored him, until he threatened to beat the little girl. Then she moved away, smiling and reassuring the little girl that all would be well. The child even smiled back at her. That smile had lifted her own spirits considerably.
Steffan’s shoulder was propped against the wall as he turned toward her. He held out his hand as if he wanted to see her palm. Without thinking she laid her hand in his. He held it close to his face and seemed to study it, then brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles.
She sucked in a breath and snatched her hand away from him.
Part of her wished she had not pulled her hand away, wished she had let him hold her hand as long as he wanted, wished he would kiss her hand again, though it was dirty, and wished she had smiled at him and gazed into his eyes.
But that was foolish. He needed to know he couldn’t just kiss her hand. She was right to snatch her hand away from him. Wasn’t she?
Steffan whispered, “Forgive me. That was impulsive.”
Why wou
ld he even think about kissing her hand? They had been living side by side for days now. They had touched each other inadvertently a few times. And she had slept with her head on his shoulder that first night, although not purposely. But he had never tried to touch her or kiss her.
“I suppose you have kissed many women’s hands,” she said. It probably meant nothing to him. She imagined that was what the sons of dukes did. When they greeted a woman, they kissed her hand.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Forget about it. It was nothing.” She folded her arms across her chest.
He inclined his head a bit closer to her. “I would never do anything to hurt you. What did Hennek do to you?”
His face was so earnest, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.
“We’ve survived wolf attacks, worked together, taken care of each other. We are friends, are we not?”
“I suppose we are.”
“Then tell me.”
Something inside her wanted to tell him. What could it hurt? He had never taken advantage of her the way others had tried to. Kissing her hand had been the first untoward thing he had done. The part of her that wished she had let him hold her hand suddenly told her distrustful part to be quiet and let her talk.
“If I tell you, then you have to tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”
“That is fair.”
“Very well then.” She had kept this secret for so long. She used to feel ashamed, but she knew none of it was her fault.
Steffan made her feel protected and safe. He accepted her as she was. He didn’t treat her as if she shouldn’t be bold and strong, as if she shouldn’t try to rescue children or kill man-eating beasts. And the fact that no one knew where they were, and they might never get out of this hole in the ground, created an intimacy between them that she’d never known before. Something told her that Steffan would not blame her for what had occurred, as she had always feared would happen if she told someone.
“I was just a little girl when my mother married Hennek.” She spoke in a low whisper so no one could hear but Steffan. “She was a beautiful woman with no money. My father was a merchant, but not a very successful one. When he died, he owed a lot of money, most of it to Hennek. Hennek used that debt to persuade my mother to marry him.
“I did not like Hennek from the beginning. He was always forcing himself on my mother, kissing her and touching her when she obviously did not want him to. I would kick him, and sometimes he would hit me, but only when Mother wasn’t looking. When we were around others, he would speak of how much he loved my mother and me, making himself look like some great savior of poor widows and orphans for marrying my mother.
“The first time I saw him hit my mother, I screamed, ‘I’m going to tell everyone what you did!’ He hit me across the mouth and knocked me to the floor. He said if I ever told anyone anything about him, he would kill my mother. He told me he would strangle her with his bare hands, and it would be all my fault. I was about ten years old at the time.”
“I’m so sorry,” Steffan said. The compassion in his eyes made her lean even closer to Steffan. Her face was only a hand’s length from his.
“When I was thirteen years old, he started coming into my bedroom at night. At first he would tell me stories. Then he started trying to kiss me good night, but I would always turn my head. One night he tried to touch me.”
A knot tightened in her chest. She’d never told anyone about that, not even her mother. Steffan’s face was so full of anger and concern, she had to glance down at the floor, as it made tears sting her eyes.
“The next night I hid a knife under my bedclothes. When he sat down on the edge of my bed, I drew it out and said, ‘If you touch me, I will kill you.’ He laughed, then grabbed my wrist. I pushed my hand up and the knife point stabbed his chin. He let me go then.
“After that, he stopped coming into my room, but his guards started leering at me, brushing against me, and making lewd comments under their breath. I always pretended I wasn’t afraid of them, and if my mother was nearby, I would yell for her and tell her they were frightening me. They mostly stopped after my mother made a fuss and demanded Hennek force them not to bother me anymore. Perhaps some would say they never really did anything to me, did not physically hurt me, but they destroyed my little-girl innocence and sense of safety. It made me always vigilant, always afraid of anyone who got too close.”
Steffan clenched his fists and whispered, “How dare Hennek do that to you. And allow those men to harass you, especially when you were only a child. I will kill him.”
His reaction was a balm to the part of her that needed a protector.
“There were so many times I wanted to run away,” she went on, “but I was afraid of what he would do to my mother if I left. And I thought about killing him. I even made a plan.” Kat had to take a deep breath as she remembered that time. “But I didn’t do it, because I knew it would hurt my mother. She didn’t want to believe bad things about Hennek. It made me sick, but I had to accept that she actually loved him.”
“Do you think she still loves him?” Steffan’s brows rose.
“Perhaps not as much as she did then. I should have done everyone a kindness and killed Hennek in his sleep.”
“If you had, one of his guards would have just taken over this mining business and you wouldn’t have discovered what Hennek was doing. The children would still be enslaved. But we are going to escape and take them with us.”
Katerina nodded. “Yes, we are.”
An almost overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his face caused her hand to twitch. She wanted him to hold her hand, to put his arms around her. But there was still a bit of fear inside her stopping her, keeping her from asking for anything from him.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
His gaze was so intense, she looked away, unable to control the chaos in her heart. When he touched her fingers, she didn’t pull away. There was still a tiny voice telling her Steffan had some dishonorable motive for getting close to her, but it was stifled by the louder voice that trusted him, liked being close, and wished she was even closer.
“And now it is time for you to tell me something you’ve never talked about.” She smiled, knowing Steffan would not like this part of the bargain.
Just as she might have thought, he frowned and chewed the inside of his mouth.
“I shall hold up my end of the bargain.” He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away from hers, straightening a little away from her. “My brother is always trying to get me to talk about this. So here it is. When I was a boy, my brother Wolfgang and I were playing with another little boy. His father was a shepherd who worked for my father.
“This boy said we could not chase the sheep. His father had warned him, and it was the thing his father was the most adamant about. But I, in my arrogant, childish wisdom, convinced him it would be all right if we only chased two of the sheep. I said we would drive them across a stream, just to see if we could, and then we would drive them back and his father would never know. But when we drove them across the stream, the sheep went too far. We tried to stop them, but they fell off a tall outcropping and died when they hit the bottom.”
“Oh. That is bad.”
“It becomes much worse. I . . . Are you certain you wish to hear this?”
Her heart sank. Would his story shock her or cause her to judge him for his bad choices? But she said, “I’m sure it cannot be so very bad. You were a child, were you not?”
“I was eight years old.”
“I will not condemn you for something you did when you were only eight years old.” When he still did not speak, Kat said, “Please. Go on.”
“The little boy began to cry and said his father would beat him, would kill him. Wolfgang and I told him his father would not do any such thing, but the boy was inconsolable.
“Later that day, Wolfgang wanted to tell Father how afraid the boy was, wanted to tell
him what we had done, but I persuaded him not to.” Steffan’s voice was turning hollow and raspy. “But it was a mistake. A terrible mistake.”
Steffan scrubbed his face with his hands.
“What happened?”
“The next day the boy was found beaten to death. The father was gone. No one ever saw him again in Hagenheim.” He hung his head and did not look up at her. “So you see what a terrible thing I did. I caused a child’s death.”
She wanted so much to comfort him, but her hands stayed by her sides. “You did not cause that child’s death, Steffan.”
“But I did. I actually did.” He rubbed a hand over his face again and turned away from her.
“That’s a horrible thing to carry around. You were just a child. That man who beat his son to death deserves the blame, and you have to stop carrying the guilt of it.” Should she reach out and touch his arm, to console him?
“I deserve to carry it. Wolfgang carried it too, even though it was mine to carry, not his.”
“God can give you peace.” It was as if the words came out of her mouth before she even thought them. Unable to resist, she lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. “Jesus carried it to the cross so you wouldn’t have to carry it. Don’t you believe that?”
He turned his head and looked her in the eye. “Who told you that?”
“I heard it from my priest. But it is the Easter story, is it not?”
Was she imagining that he was leaning into her hand on his upper arm? And that his expression was softer as he gazed into her eyes.
“It’s easier to believe it when it’s applied to someone else.” One side of his mouth quirked up.
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Get up!” the guard yelled. “Get back to work. Your rest is over.”
She quickly pulled away her hand, which had begun to feel much too warm and comfortable on his arm, and they went back to work. But something had shifted, something deep inside her was leaning, leaning toward Steffan. And she wasn’t sure if it felt good or . . . terrifying.
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