Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (2 page)

3.

Sitting up in bed that night, Marie listened to her husband’s regular breathing. She gave a soft sigh. She wanted to talk with him more, but she also wanted to let him sleep, because he was leaving to go to war the next day and would need all his strength. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink that night, however, and she could see many nights full of worry and fear ahead. During their ten years of marriage, they’d never been apart for more than two or three nights, but this time, no one could say how long it would be before she’d see him again.

The moon shone into their chamber through the open window, illuminating the room brightly. Its silver beams fell onto the large,
well-stocked
chests testifying to their wealth, but it didn’t reflect onto the paneled walls, making them look darker than the blackest night. As black as death, Marie thought involuntarily, instinctively turning to Michel, silhouetted against the window. Their sprawling bed had been specially made for them when they moved into Sobernburg Castle because Marie hadn’t been used to sleeping close to another person. Though she now wished they were lying in each other’s arms like other couples, instead of almost an arm’s length apart, she didn’t dare snuggle up to Michel for fear of waking him.

Just as she was about to carefully lie back down, Michel became restless, then snorted loudly and opened his eyes. Seeing Marie awake, he moved closer and rested his hand on her leg. His touch burned like fire on her skin.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Michel,” she whispered.

He pulled her to him, taking one of her long strands of hair and wrapping it around his finger. Although her curls had darkened since her wandering years, they shone like freshly minted gold in the moonlight, and her face was still as smooth and lovely as any picture of the Virgin Mary.

“You’ve never been more breathtaking, Marie, do you know that?” Michel’s eyes lit up with desire as he spoke, realizing that he’d leave her at sunrise, not knowing when he’d hold her in his arms again.

Regretfully, Marie held out her hands. “I’d give all my beauty away to have you stay here with me.”

Michel vehemently shook his head. “That wouldn’t make me happy at all, because I want to eagerly anticipate coming home to my beautiful wife.”

Marie lowered her head sadly. “I’m sorry I’m not the wife you deserve.”

“What makes you think that? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You look after my household, support me in my duties, and give me pleasures in the bedroom other men don’t even dare dream of. So why would I be unhappy?” He sounded slightly irritated.

But Marie didn’t notice and clutched him, trying to keep her voice under control. “I’m sad because I haven’t been able to give you children, Michel. But when you return, I’ll find a maid who can give you an heir.”

“As if I’d ever look at another woman!” Michel laughed boyishly, kissed the pert breast that had slipped out of her nightgown, and before she could reply, rolled on top of her and gently forced apart her thighs. “Come now, my jewel. Let me have your passion one more time so I know what I can look forward to on my return.”

Marie wasn’t particularly in the mood, but when Michel began to nibble softly on her earlobe, she couldn’t bring herself to reject him. This would be the last time for God knew how long, she told herself, so the memory should be a sweet one for them both. Michel was a strong and tireless yet gentle lover who knew how to please a woman, and as he entered her, she could feel her own arousal growing. Clinging to him, encouraging him with soft cries, Marie felt a wave of desire sweeping through her more intense than she’d ever experienced before.

Later, he lay next to her, breathing heavily, his body still shuddering. Marie kissed him again. “What a shame you have to leave!”

“It’s an important assignment, Marie, and it’s a great honor that the count has put me in charge of this group. Even the noble knights who are accompanying me with their liege men have to accept me as their leader.” At
thirty-six
, Michel was still young enough to find the impending military campaign exciting, and he thought less of the hard, bloody battles ahead of him than of glory and honor. Their enemy had a reputation for being devious and cruel, but Michel trusted in the power of the kaiser and his count.

“We’ll teach those Bohemian heretics! It’ll all be over by autumn at the latest, and I’ll come home to you,” he assured her.

Unconvinced, Marie nodded slowly. “I’m sure you’re right. But until then, I’ll be missing you terribly.”

Her thoughts drifted back ten years to the council that had taken place in her hometown of Constance, where she had watched the kaiser and his bishops burn the Bohemian scholar Jan Hus at the stake. That fire had sparked a far larger one, but those in power in the German Empire hadn’t realized that until much later. Shortly after Jan Hus’s death, there was a terrible uprising in Bohemia in which Hus’s followers annihilated the army of knights who had come to fight them. After such victories, so many people had flocked to the Hussites’ cause that in the following years they laid waste to neighboring countries, as well as to the parts of Bohemia still loyal to Kaiser Sigismund, who was not only the leader of the Holy Roman Empire but also held the crown of the king of Hungary among other sovereign titles. So far, no one had managed to put the rebels in their place, and the increasingly bold Hussites were now denying their king the right to the throne of Bohemia.

A gray veil of worry fell over Marie’s soul. “Be careful, Michel! Kaiser Sigismund has tried and failed several times to subdue the Hussites. Who is to say he will succeed this time?”

Michel laughed her concerns away. “How can you doubt it, my love? I’ll be there, after all.” He was so full of confidence that Marie also had to laugh despite herself, and she felt a little better. Kissing the tip of his nose, she pulled his head onto her chest. “Now sleep, Michel, so you won’t be too tired when you have to leave in the morning.”

“I’ll wake up early enough to feel you underneath me one more time before I go,” he replied cheerfully.

But when Michel awoke the next morning, the sun was already above the horizon and the noise of horses being saddled and oxen hitched to carts drifted through their window. Giving Marie an apologetic smile, he joked with her while he washed his face and hands, then patted her bottom suggestively as she walked past. “I’m looking forward to coming home.”

“Me, too.” Marie met the maid coming up the stairs with a heavy tray, and served Michel breakfast herself. “Please be careful and look after yourself. I . . .” Swallowing her tears, she tried to look cheerful.

Michel kissed her gently on the nose. “But I always am, my love. Anyway, the danger is not as great as it used to be, because Jan Ziska, the fearsome commander of the Hussite troops, has fallen victim to the plague. We’ll easily deal with his successor, that cloddish Prokop.”

Marie thought her husband was treating the preparations for war a little too lightly. Although Bohemia was at the opposite end of the realm, a constant stream of rumors made it to their Palatinate lands, and they were not of a nature to alleviate her fears. She’d heard their enemies were monsters who wouldn’t even spare a woman heavy with child, and more than once the rebels had brutally cut down anyone they could lay their hands on after defeating the opposing troops.

When she confronted Michel with what she’d heard, he gave her an indulgent smile. “My brave Marie, who once stood up to powerful lords and the kaiser himself, has turned into a timorous little girl! I’m coming back, I promise you. Do you think I’ll let a few lousy Bohemians stop me? We’ll ride there, give them a good thrashing, put Sigismund back on his throne, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right.” Marie sighed again and managed a wavering smile. “I wish you all the luck in the world, my love, and I hope you won’t forget me when you’re far away.”

Shaking his head, Michel kissed her and tenderly stroked her forehead. “It’s impossible to forget you, my darling. But I had better hurry, as my people are already gathering in the courtyard.”

He walked over to the window and assessed his foot soldiers assembling below. Tough, coarse men used to hardship, they were dressed in roughly woven, gray surcoats reaching just below the waist and decorated with coats of arms displaying the palatine lion. Underneath the coats, leather cape collars had been reinforced with plates of steel as protection against enemy blows and stabs. Simple helmets that closely resembled cooking pots protected their heads.

As no one in Rheinsobern made armor or weapons, Michel was forced to use a blacksmith accustomed to forging and repairing everyday household items. Though Michel was annoyed at the smith’s lack of ability, he was even more irritated that he’d had to pay for the equipment out of his and Marie’s own funds, as the count palatine had given him an order to equip the troops without the means to do so. Nevertheless, Michel was determined to please his lord, even though the news he’d received was rather grim.

Contrary to habit, he hadn’t told Marie how grim the situation actually seemed in the eastern parts of the Reich. The Upper Palatinate on the Bohemian border was under his lord’s jurisdiction in name only and was being administered by his cousins Johann and Otto. Along with Saxony, Franconia, and Austria, it was close to being overrun and laid waste as the Hussites attacked the lands like swarms of locusts and left behind nothing but scorched earth in their frenzied desire to avenge their martyr Jan Hus and cast off the yoke of German barons and counts.

“It’s time we put an end to this!”

“What?” Only Marie’s question made Michel realize he’d said his last thought aloud.

“The Bohemian uprising!” he replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Timo was waiting for him in the armory. Though his servant was to accompany Michel as his sergeant and quartermaster, for now he still performed his usual tasks, readying Michel’s armor and helping him put it on. Marie also lent a hand, closing leather buckles and tugging her husband’s clothes into place. As captain of the Rheinsobern castle, Michel had the right to wear a knight’s armor. For this campaign, however, he’d decided against the smothering
full-body
armor and instead wore a hauberk, or mail shirt, with a steel breastplate reaching down to his thighs. His leather doublet and leather trousers had been riveted with steel plates to protect his arms and legs, and on his head he wore a burgonet, a helmet without a visor but with a low neck guard. When fully dressed, he swung his arms and walked back and forth to test his mobility.

Head tilted to one side watching him, Marie smiled dreamily for a moment before quickly becoming serious again. To her, Michel looked like a legendary warrior hero that traveling minstrels sang about. But in battle, looks and equipment counted far less than experience, and Michel lacked much wartime knowledge despite the military campaigns he’d been part of in the service of the count palatine when he was younger.

Scolding herself for her negative thoughts, she put her hand in his, gave him an encouraging smile, and walked with him into the great hall, where his group of accompanying knights and his subordinate commanders had already assembled. Over the previous few years, the plain, drafty room had been turned into a welcoming space, but now Marie thought it seemed inhospitable and cold in spite of all the embroidered tapestries, hunting trophies, and woven carpets. She was therefore glad when Michel asked everyone to gather outside. The inner courtyard, wedged against the armory on one side and the main building on the other, was now brimming with people with barely enough room to stand between the five large carts and the knights’ horses.

The foot soldiers were being allotted long pikes to carry over their shoulders during the march. Michel waved at them and smiled. In the last few days he’d talked to each of his men and believed he could rely on all of them. But the fourteen knights and their followers also now under his command were a different story. A few of the noblemen had made it clear that they didn’t like taking orders from a castellan who was a commoner, and for this reason their men weren’t inclined to obey any orders from either him or his commanders. He’d have to solve this problem on the march, Michel thought. He was proud the count had put him in charge of the troops, and he didn’t intend to let anyone take the reins from his hands.

As his gaze wandered over his men and the wagons, Marie stepped to his side, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him her sweetest smile. “Don’t you think I should come with you for part of the way, just for a day or two?”

Michel grinned and shook his head. “It’s better you stay here. It would be unfair to those who already had to leave their families behind. Also, I want to keep a close eye on my new companions rather than on your charms.”

His words sounded lighthearted, but Marie understood what Michel meant. He wanted to identify and set straight any troublemakers right away, and not be distracted by her.

She nodded. “You’re right. It would be better for you to keep a close eye on your people, since not all of them seem ready to serve under your command.”

One of the men she had in mind with this comment was Falko von Hettenheim, a haughty and arrogant knight for whom the only important things were noble birth and a long line of ancestors. On the very day he arrived, he’d slandered Michel, calling him an innkeeper’s brat and an incompetent upstart. Marie overheard his comments and had to force herself not to lash out at his arrogance and give him a piece of her mind. It was no secret that Michel had been born as the fifth son of a Constance innkeeper, rather than the son of a knight, but he’d proven his worth to the count palatine and had been justly rewarded for his services with his current position.

Indeed, Sir Falko believed he could manhandle anyone of lesser rank than himself, treating them no better than serfs. Only the previous day he’d ambushed Marie in a corridor, dragged her into an empty chamber, pulled up her skirt, and rubbed his hip against her thigh. Not until he’d needed a hand to open his fly had she been able to break away and run. He was furious at her escape, and his curse was still ringing in her ears. For a while she’d considered telling Michel about the incident, but she finally decided to keep quiet. Since Michel and Falko were headed into battle together, she didn’t want to provoke a quarrel between them.