Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (37 page)

12.

Marie wasn’t as confident as she’d pretended to be and lay awake all night, consumed with agonizing thoughts. Peasants and burghers accused of a crime were tortured immediately to force a confession, but because they were noblemen, murderers and slanderers like Falko von Hettenheim were granted the chance to prove their innocence in a duel. Even though everyone said God would help the right man to victory, Marie had seen and experienced enough to doubt divine justice. She didn’t want to lose Michel again. If she could have figured out a way, she would have poisoned Falko, but since she lacked the means to do so, the only thing left was to pray silently and beg the Holy Virgin to protect her husband once more. Heaven had saved him before, after all, and joyously reunited him with his wife and child. Marie’s worries eased at the thought of Trudi. For her sake alone Michel wouldn’t do anything reckless or underestimate Hettenheim.

Marie remembered another night three years before when she’d also lain sleeplessly next to her husband, not knowing what the future would bring. Now that time had come again. Carefully turning over onto her side, she made sure not to disturb Michel, since he needed to get a good night’s rest to be ready for the next day. Yet she stayed lost in the waking nightmares spinning around in her head, and was glad to finally see the first signs of the new morning creeping through the window.

Shortly after, someone knocked on the door. Marie slipped out of bed, threw her dressing gown around her shoulders, and opened the door to a maid bringing water for washing. Just as she had three years ago, Marie gently woke her husband and helped him get ready. The kaiser had sent him new clothes: a white shirt of the finest linen, a woolen tunic, and a white surcoat with a black cross pattée, indicating that Michel had taken part in a sacred crusade against the Hussites. When he was ready, he walked down the stairs hand in hand with Marie and entered the room where their host’s wife was preparing breakfast. Three squires from Sigismund’s retinue were awaiting him, carrying armor and weapons from the kaiser’s personal armory, and Marie knew that Sigismund’s attentiveness showed that he wanted Michel to win.

Sigismund’s chaplain was with them, to say Mass for Michel and hear his confession. Marie also knelt down in prayer, but since she didn’t want to leave Michel’s success solely in the hands of heaven, she made sure he took a light but nourishing breakfast after Mass, and then supervised Anselm and Görch putting on Michel’s armor. After he was dressed, Marie kept walking around him, admiring the fine figure her husband cut in the kaiser’s gifts. When he stepped into the courtyard, the polished steel shone like silver, reflecting the bright morning light.

The kaiser had sent not only the armor, but also a magnificent black horse from Brabant, elegant despite its height and visible strength. Michel let the squires lift him into the saddle and lead him through the gate onto the road. Marie was about to run after him, but Görch stopped her and pointed to a graceful gray mare a servant was leading over. “A gift from the kaiser to you, Lady Marie.”

Nodding with joy, she managed to climb into the saddle without help, even though she was wearing a rather unwieldy skirt. As the mare followed Michel in a fast trot, the irregular hoofbeats on the cobblestones weren’t the only thing giving away Marie’s lack of equestrian practice. Her new mount was far sprightlier than her old Bunny, and she had her hands full dodging protruding houses and people who didn’t quickly jump out of the way. She was painfully aware that she didn’t look nearly as graceful in the saddle as Janka Sokolna, who had just caught up with her. “Don’t worry, Lady Marie. Pán Michel will beat that dog!”

“Of course he will.” Marie’s voice was steady, and she even managed a little smile, but she was glad when they reached the gate and left the bustling city behind. The tournament arena where she’d met
one-legged
Timo had been kept as a practice arena for knights, and it was also where the trial by ordeal was to be held. The kaiser had already taken his seat on the raised platform decorated with precious cloths. Upon seeing Marie, he rose, walked toward her, and offered his hand. Marie climbed down from the saddle, curtsied deeply, and let the kaiser lead her to the padded bench next to the imperial chair, which was designated for the highest lords of the Reich. Sigismund bade her to sit on his right, displaying whose side he was on. Count Sokolny, Heinrich von Hettenheim, and Junker Heribert were also seated among the Reich’s mighty lords near the kaiser.

Looking neither at her friends nor the lords, who kept curiously glancing at her and whispering to one another, Marie focused on the field in front of her, where Michel and his adversary were undergoing their final preparations. A priest stepped between them, asking them to make their peace with God and giving his blessing. The knights directed their horses toward the kaiser with their visors up, so they could see Michel’s serious, composed expression, and Falko’s face twisted in fury.

“Fight with God. He will make the worthy man a victor.” With those words, the kaiser stared at Michel and raised his hand in greeting. The two knights lowered their heads as far as their armor allowed them and rode their horses to opposite ends of the lists. The squires handed them long lances decorated with ribbons, which had sharp tips for this battle, and the herald explained the rules one more time before stepping aside. At a sign from the kaiser, the herald lifted his stick, a flourish of trumpets sounded, and when the herald lowered his stick, the two knights spurred their horses.

For several endless moments, all Marie heard was the noise of accelerating hoofbeats on the hard ground. Then the adversaries struck each other with a dull thud. She saw Michel sway, and she stifled a cry. But he stayed in the saddle, holding up his splintered lance to show that everything was all right. Sir Falko’s lance had also broken, and his rage seemed to have grown since he hadn’t managed to push Michel out of the saddle with the force of his heavier weight. Both were given new lances and again spurred their horses.

Marie felt her fear drain away and confidence take its place. Though Michel may have been less experienced in the joust than Sir Falko, his enemy was clearly so out of practice that she thought even Junker Heribert would have been able to withstand him.

The two lances splintered again. This time, Falko von Hettenheim swayed dangerously, only managing to stay in the saddle because his squire ran up and steadied him. “He’ll fall at the next hit,” Marie heard the kaiser mutter. She hoped so, too, but when the two fighters sped toward each other once more, she pressed her hands to her chest to calm her wildly beating heart. The impact was even harder this time. Marie saw Michel sway and didn’t pay any attention to his opponent in her fright.

The kaiser pointed ahead. “I knew it! There he lies.”

And indeed, Falko lay on his back like a turtle, waving his arms about helplessly. His squire and some of his retinue ran toward him and helped him to his feet. In the meantime, Michel climbed down from his horse and, after brief consideration, chose a sword as his weapon for close combat. Sir Falko tore his
battle-ax
from the hands of a servant and stormed toward Michel even before the herald had given the signal to begin.

“Now you’ll die, you churl!” he screamed, his voice cracking. Michel parried the violent blows of the ax with his shield, but was forced to back off, as his own attacks remained ineffective. He remained coolly serene as he waited for his chance, while Hettenheim soon panted like a
run-down
horse. But anger and hatred seemed to double Sir Falko’s strength, as he relentlessly continued his attacks, jeering at Michel between breaths to try to force him to make a mistake.

“Well, how do you feel so close to hell, innkeeper’s brat? The devil must be looking forward to seeing you.” Since Michel didn’t reply, Falko sneered at him. “By the way, I took your harlot, and she’s nothing special at all. Every Czech wench I had was better.”

Though Falko was clearly waiting for a rash reaction, Michel decided to taunt him instead. “How many men did your wife go to bed with in the hope of getting a son, after you could only give her daughters?”

“You have only one daughter, and hardly anyone believes the brat’s yours!”

Michel sounded completely unruffled. “Trudi’s parentage is beyond doubt, and unlike yours, my daughter is my heir, while Sir Heinrich will be taking his place on your chair today.”

Sir Falko flushed scarlet at those words, and his next blow ripped Michel’s shield off his arm. With a triumphant snort, Hettenheim raised his ax high above his head to simultaneously split his opponent’s helmet and skull.

At that moment, Michel’s sword shot through the air like a glittering snake, hitting his enemy’s visor without penetrating it. For a brief moment, Falko von Hettenheim stood still, as if surprised by the attack. Then he swayed and collapsed like a rotten tree. Thinking it was a ruse, Michel quickly picked up his battered shield.

As Michel slid his left arm into the loops of the shield, Falko’s squire hurried over and knelt next to his master. “Sir! What’s the matter? Please answer me!”

Since Falko didn’t stir, the squire removed the knight’s helmet—and stared into the eyes of a dead man. The herald came over, and after a brief glance at Falko’s face, he signaled for the kaiser’s doctor. After carefully examining Falko von Hettenheim, the doctor shook his head.

“The knight is dead, though I can’t find any wound.”

“It’s a sign from God! He measured Sir Falko’s guilt and condemned him!” the imperial confessor called out in a ringing voice, kneeling to praise the divine justice. The kaiser made the sign of the cross and lowered his head to the heavenly powers.

Marie looked at Michel, folded her hands, and thanked the Holy Virgin and Holy Mary Magdalene for his victory. Meanwhile, Eva slipped past the guards and grasped Sir Heinrich’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

“Congratulations, sir, as from now on, you’re the head of the Hettenheim family.”

With a surly look, Rumold von Lauenstein turned to her. “Your congratulations come a little too soon, you old witch! My daughter’s pregnant again, and this time it’ll certainly be a son.”

Marie laughed dismissively. “She’ll give birth to a seventh daughter.”

Judging by his expression, her words had deeply upset Lauenstein, and she smiled mischievously. She felt deserving of this small revenge on the count palatine’s scheming adviser. But quickly pushing him from her mind, she climbed down the platform stairs to hug Michel.

“With Falko’s death, the last shadow has disappeared from our life,” she whispered to him.

Michel nodded and tenderly pulled her close. At that moment, he didn’t look to the future, but just held Marie tight in his arms, watching Michi run across the field to congratulate him, followed by Anni, Helene, and Trudi.

Briefly stopping next to the dead knight on their way, staring at him as if he were a defeated demon from hell, the four of them then crowded around Marie and Michel, bubbling over with congratulations. For the rest of the day, Trudi repeated the words she’d learned from Michi: “Papa great hero!”

13.

Marie sat on the box seat of a large oxcart while listening with a gentle and understanding expression to Janka Sokolna’s stream of praise for Junker Heribert. The young Czech woman was riding next to the wagon, steering her mare with her legs and using her hands to reinforce her words. Marie admired her riding skills, but preferred to be in the safety of the wagon, sitting on a thick leather cushion to soften the jounces of the countless potholes. She would occasionally ride her mare short distances for practice, but she wanted the trip to her new home to be as comfortable as possible, and she preferred the wagon for the most part. The kaiser had been very generous, giving her and Michel a splendid piece of land near Volkach on the Main. Marie had heard that an exquisite wine was made there, and she was looking forward to strolling through the vineyards with Trudi and nibbling on delicious grapes.

“It’s very kind of you to provide a place for my mother and me to stay until my father and Junker Heribert have completed their mission,” Janka continued, and Marie suspected she’d regularly have to lend a shoulder for her to cry on in the future.

She smiled at Janka. “But of course. After all, your father looked after my husband for more than two years. I’m sure it won’t be long before Junker Heribert returns from Bohemia and leads you home.”

Before Janka could answer, Michel appeared alongside the wagon. He gave her a nod, grinned cheerfully at Marie, and pointed straight ahead. “The wagon leader says we’re nearly at our destination. Do you want to climb onto your little mare and ride ahead with me? I can’t wait to see the place where our daughter will grow up.”

Marie looked happily at Michel, then turned to Janka. “Forgive me for interrupting our conversation.”

Nodding, Janka reined in her horse so that Michi could bring up Marie’s mare. Marie was glad she’d finally been able to send a messenger from Nuremberg to Hiltrud, who must have been beside herself with worry after such a long time. It was a pity that they’d be living so far apart, but Marie could hardly expect Hiltrud to give up her beautiful farm near Rheinsobern. She was a little saddened by that twist of fate, but consoled herself with the thought of the new friends who’d be living with her now. She was planning to keep Michi with them and raise him as one of her administrators—or as a soldier and leader, if he preferred. Maybe she’d take Mariele in as well, if Hiltrud agreed. In any event, Marie was determined to travel to Rheinsobern and visit her friend the next spring at the latest, after they’d settled into their new home.

“Hey, Marie! What’s the matter? You’re sleeping with your eyes open.” Michel’s voice brought Marie back to the present. She climbed from the wagon into the saddle, and let Michi help her with the stirrups. Michel held the reins until she was ready, then gently handed them to her.

Marie lovingly patted his hand. “Let’s have a look at our new home.” Cautiously spurring her mare, she trotted ahead. Michel didn’t follow immediately, but waited for Eva’s cart. Trudi sat between Theres and Eva, who were both feeding her prunes. When the little girl saw Michel, she held out her arms and merrily laughed when Theres lifted her over to him. Tenderly taking her in his arms, he sat her in front of him on his horse.

Eva looked at father and daughter with satisfaction. “Looks like we’re nearly there! I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like, especially when spring comes next year and we’re itching to hitch up our wagons and join the troops again.”

Theres dismissively waved her hands. “You can go back to war if you like. I’m definitely staying with Marie.”

“With Lady Marie, that is. She’s a lady of rank, after all. Of course I’ll stay with you, as I can hardly leave her care to you, Anni, or Helene. I’m telling you, without me, you’re all as helpless as little children.” With those words, Eva picked up one of the prunes Trudi had dropped and started chewing it.

Marie and Michel left their wagon train behind, and for a while, their eyes were more focused on each other and their daughter than on the landscape around them. But when the valley opened up and the wide loop of the river lay below them, they reined in their horses and gazed around. Farther north they could see the outline of the city of Volkach, but below them, at the foot of a long, steep ridge, was a large village that they knew to be Dohlenheim, one of the places belonging to their castle. The tidy houses had
wood-shingled
roofs and were huddled against a church near a large square with a magnificent linden tree.

Their new home itself was a massive, plain fortress at the top of the highest hill, rising up from the green vines covering the hillsides. There was another village belonging to their property directly at the foot of a bare, steep slope, and a third one was supposed to be down by the river, on the other side of the hill at a bend in the river. Since the original owner of the castle had loved all feathered creatures, the places all were named after birds. The castle was Kibitzstein (plover’s castle), the village below was Habichten (hawk’s home), and the third village was Spatzenhausen (sparrow’s house).

Marie took in the landscape and smiled at Michel expectantly. “Well, how do you feel as Knight of the Reich Michel Adler of Kibitzstein?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replied with a laugh, kissing the top of his daughter’s head. “But I have to say, I like the land. I can finally grow roots here.”

“Junker Heribert can teach you how to be a Frankish knight of the Reich when he returns from Bohemia.”

“I think he’ll be busy teaching Janka how to be the wife of a Frankish knight of the Reich,” Michel retorted cheerfully. The couple exchanged a wistful glance, both thinking of Václav Sokolny, Heinrich von Hettenheim, and Junker Heribert, who’d ridden to Bohemia on the kaiser’s behalf to let the younger Sokolny and his friends know that Sigismund was prepared to negotiate. The kaiser hoped to break the reign of the Taborites with help from the Calixtines, and then return to Prague.

“Thank God we’re finished with all that,” Marie called out with relief, as if the last burden had just fallen off her soul.

Surprised, Michel looked at her. “What are we finished with?”

“With the kaiser and his struggle for power and crowns. We’ve got much pleasanter tasks ahead of us.”

Michel directed his horse to Marie’s side and pulled her close, as Trudi giggled. “What tasks?”

Marie gestured at the summery landscape in front of them. “To create a home for ourselves, Michel, and to enjoy life and love one another.”

Being a reasonable husband, Michel knew when his wife was right, and he simply nodded and smiled.