Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (8 page)

PART TWO

THE WIDOW

1.

Marie was woken by her screams. Trembling, she sat up, pressing her hands on her wildly beating heart and gasping for breath as if she’d just run up every staircase in the castle. She’d dreamed of Michel again, and the images were still dancing in front of her eyes, taunting her. This time, too, he’d been close enough to touch. The knights who accompanied him had mocked and ridiculed him before leaving him to fight a crowd of demons on his own, under whose bodies he was eventually buried. This nightmare had been even worse than previous ones, because she’d watched Michel, covered in blood, falling into a river that was already dyed red. In vain she’d reached out her hand to rescue him, but the waves carried him into a raging whirlpool, dragging him into the depths.

A strong kick from her unborn child reminded her that her thoughts should not only be about Michel and the past, but also about the future. She stroked her stomach softly and made a quick calculation. Michel had left in March, and it was now the beginning of November, so her child would be born in one and a half months at the latest. Until then she had to continue to be careful and do everything she could to protect herself and the unborn baby.

Marie rose and filled her cup with cold tea from the jug standing on the bedside table, inwardly thanking Hiltrud for collecting and mixing herbs that were supposed to be good for pregnant women. Over the summer, Marie had spent more time on the goat farm than at Sobernburg Castle, which seemed gloomier and more depressing every day that Michel was away. She dreaded having to spend winter behind these cold walls with the unsympathetic Marga, but since she couldn’t ride Bunny anymore and the carriage rattled her bones, the trip to the goat farm had become too difficult. Hiltrud now made the long trip to the castle herself almost every day, and though Marie was glad for her friend’s visits, she would have preferred to be spoiled by Hiltrud at the homey goat farm.

“To hell with Marga and to hell with this castle!” Marie swore. She wanted to ask the count palatine to appoint a deputy for Michel so she could move to the goat farm. But that would have disappointed Michel. For more than ten years they had managed Rheinsobern together, and she knew her husband was relying on her and presumed she would do her duty.

If he’s still alive
, she thought, a shiver running down her spine. She lay back down, breathing deeply to relax, and wondered yet again why she hadn’t received a single message from Michel. She’d written to Nuremberg twice already, because she had heard that the imperial troops assembled there before each new attack on the Bohemians. In the first letter she had told him about the pregnancy, and at the end of summer she had assured him that she and the unborn child were well. But he had neither replied nor sent his greetings through the count palatine. The only news she heard from Bohemia was from merchants and wandering minstrels, and it wasn’t good. Apparently, the kaiser wasn’t having any better luck in defeating the Hussite rebels nor in defending neighboring countries.

Marie’s thoughts turned back to Michel, her worries and fears rising up inside her. She tried to push them aside and go back to sleep but only tossed and turned, fighting tears. The hours crept by slowly until a faint glow in the east announced the new day and she could get out of bed.

Shortly after the ringing of the ten o’clock bell, a herald of the count palatine raced through the gate and stopped his panting horse outside the great hall.

“I have a message for the mistress!” he called out to Marga, who was looking out the door curiously.

“Oh, that,” the housekeeper replied with a shrug.

Opening his sheepskin coat, the herald laughed cheerfully.

“Sir Michel Adler was made a knight of the Reich by the kaiser for his courage in battle. If that isn’t a reason to celebrate and give the messenger a cup of good wine, then I don’t know what is.”

“You’ll get your cup of wine and more.” Appearing at the main door, Marie held out her hand for the officially sealed letter and tore it open. She was so nervous, she could hardly read the document, but the messenger was right. Her Michel had been elevated to the rank of a free knight, which made him equal to Mechthild von Arnstein’s husband, Dietmar.

“Lead the messenger to the kitchen, Marga, and give him wine and a decent meal. But first call Kunz to take care of the horse. I don’t want man or beast wanting for anything,” she instructed her housekeeper. The woman nodded sullenly and harshly ordered the man to follow her.

Marie disregarded Marga’s bad mood and pressed the message against her glowing cheeks. She wanted to sing and dance at this sign that he was alive, and she regretted not being able to ride to Hiltrud to share this joy.

All of a sudden she turned and followed the servant taking the messenger’s horse to the stable. “Kunz, hitch the little carriage. I’m going to the goat farm.”

The haggard servant cast a wary eye at the overcast sky. “I wouldn’t take the open carriage, mistress. It’s mild for November, but it’s going to rain.”

Marie laughed. “We’ll be there in less than half an hour, and you can give me the furs from the sled for the cold and get a tarred sheet to protect us from the rain.”

Grumbling, the servant nodded, handed the horse to one of the stable boys, and walked to the carriage shed to get the cart and push it out into the courtyard. He had thought less of his mistress than of himself with his warning. He’d be exposed to the weather far more than she, but when his mistress set her mind to something, there was nothing he could do but obey. Morosely he got to work, dawdling so much that the first raindrops were falling even before they’d left.

Marie let Ischi wrap her up in the carriage until only the tip of her nose was sticking out. “Come on, Kunz. Hurry up!” the maid told the servant. He put on his old hat and threw a felt shawl around his shoulders. Still annoyed he’d had to leave the warmth of the stables, he vented his anger on the horse, making the carriage bounce across potholes like a leather ball. Marie had to hang on with both hands, but because she was so excited, she didn’t say anything, enjoying the fast ride despite the jolting and bumping. When they reached the goat farm, Mariele helped her out of her coat, and Marie waited until Hiltrud had served Kunz a generous snack and a jug of wine. The older man’s mood brightened visibly at the sight of a rosy ham and sausages.

When her friend pulled her into the living room where they could sit and talk comfortably on a cushioned bench, her voice failed her at first. Hiltrud stroked her hair. “Calm down, my dear! Think of your baby. What news do you have that brings you here in such a state?”

“I received a message from Michel, or rather, about him. He was brave in battle and has been made a knight of the Reich by the kaiser.” Marie could barely sit still with excitement and handed her the document. “Here, read! A messenger from the count palatine brought this today.”

Hiltrud had learned enough letters with Marie’s help to understand most of the message. Sighing, she gazed at her friend with mixed emotions. “Congratulations, Marie. That really is great news for you. I’m only sorry that we’ll have to say
good-bye
soon.”

Marie shook her head. “But why? I don’t understand . . .”

“Look here! It says the kaiser will invest Michel with an imperial fiefdom, so you’ll move to wherever the kaiser orders.”

Skimming the passage to which Hiltrud was pointing, Marie exhaled deeply. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.” Her happiness disappeared, and she almost wished she’d never received the letter. She would have preferred a brief message written in Michel’s own hand and the assurance that he was well.

Hiltrud deciphered the rest of the text as best she could and wrinkled her nose. “It says here that he was made a knight back in June. They really took their time to tell you.”

Marie snatched the letter from her friend. Hiltrud was right. Michel had been knighted half a year before. That meant the message was only half as precious, because the campaigns against the Bohemians had continued well into the fall, and he could have been injured or even killed in any of them. She couldn’t help but think of her dream, the images still fresh in her mind, and she shivered.

Hiltrud jumped to her feet. “You shouldn’t have taken the open carriage in this weather. I’ll make a brew to warm you up.” Going into the pantry, she broke off a few stalks of herbs from the bunches hanging there and threw them into a pot. In the kitchen, she ladled hot water from the copper kettle standing on the brick stove and brought the potion back to the living room, which immediately filled with a pleasantly fresh aroma.

While the tea was steeping, an oppressive silence descended on the room, and Hiltrud knew that Marie was losing herself in gloomy thoughts. Pouring a cup of tea sweetened with a large chunk of honey, Hiltrud handed it to her friend. “Here, drink this and forget your worries. If Michel has made it to knight of the Reich, he doesn’t have to be afraid of a few Hussites.”

Hiltrud took care of Marie like a mother, and, not wanting to appear ungrateful, Marie forced a smile. “You’re right. We should be happy about the message. Who knows, maybe Michel is already on his way home, because the kaiser certainly won’t be going to war in the winter.”

Marie brightened at this thought, and two cups of refreshing tea later, when Marie was in her carriage on the way back to town, neither the cold wind blowing down from the mountains nor the pouring rain troubled her.

2.

Two weeks later, winter had arrived. The countryside around Rheinsobern was only covered in hoarfrost, but the tops of the Black Forest and the Vosges peeking through the fog and heavy gray clouds were already covered in a thick layer of snow. Hoping every day for Michel’s return, Marie sat in a window overlooking the courtyard as often as her duties permitted.

One particularly stormy morning, she shuddered to think of Michel riding through the sleet or even the snow in the mountains. Pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, she focused on her needlepoint, a pillowcase for her unborn child. With delicate stitches she embroidered leaves around flowers, dreamily thinking how surprised and happy Michel would be to find her so far along in her pregnancy. Now that he was a knight, he’d be especially happy to have a son. But a daughter also could marry another noble knight and leave the imperial fiefdom to her children, as was stated in the certificate of appointment.

Lost in her dreams of a happy future with Michel, Marie didn’t immediately notice the three
oxen-drawn
carts rolling through the castle gate, only lifting her head when she heard the iron bands of the wheels on the cobblestones in the yard. At first she thought it was Michel, but her hope vanished at the sight of the decrepit wagons and gaunt animals. Six mounted men accompanied the procession, their thick coats as wet as the wagon covers, while the four men and three women walking alongside the carts wore only simple shawls of woven straw to protect them from the rain and cold. Marie was surprised at this large number of unannounced guests and wondered who these people might be. When the carts had come to a halt, the cover of the first wagon was pulled back, and a large woman wearing a noble lady’s headdress and clothing looked around curiously. Next to her, a more plainly dressed woman and a number of children of various ages climbed down from the wagon. To Marie’s relief, the two other vehicles didn’t appear to contain anyone other than the drivers.

Suddenly remembering her duties as mistress of the castle, she hurried down into the hall where the new arrivals were already streaming through the opposite door, led by the noblewoman whose figure was as wide as it was tall. When she stepped into the light of the tallow lamps, Marie saw that the lady’s dress and
rabbit-fur
-trimmed
bonnet were of a style popular fifty years earlier, to judge by the pictures on the walls of the castle’s chapel. These days, only the wife of a poor knight living far from any large city and the main trading routes would dress like that.

Gazing in admiration at the hall’s furnishings, the lady looked like a child who had just received more presents than expected from Saint Nicholas. She hurried toward Marie, looking her over. “Are you Marie Adler?” Marie nodded, but the lady continued before she could answer. “I am Kunigunde von Banzenburg. My husband, Manfred, is the new captain of the castle and castellan of the count palatine in Rheinsobern.” She pointed at one of the somewhat
better-dressed
older men who had trailed the lady into the hall.

Marie frowned and shook her head in irritation. It appeared as though Lord Ludwig had wasted no time in filling Michel’s position after his promotion. In her opinion, the noble lord could have waited at least until Michel had returned from the war.

Since Marie didn’t answer, Lady Kunigunde pulled the eldest of her companions next to her. “This is Götz von Perchtenstein, my cousin.”

So skinny as to look underfed, Perchtenstein seemed to have aged prematurely, with scant gray hairs left on his head and only a few yellow, rotting stumps of teeth to be seen when he opened his mouth to speak.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Lady Marie. Please allow me to express my deepest sympathy for your loss,” he said in an unpleasantly hissing voice, likely caused by his bad teeth.

Marie stared at him blankly. “What loss?”

Lady Kunigunde tilted her head to one side. “You haven’t heard?”

Her husband, who hadn’t uttered a word until then, stepped to her side and placed his right hand on the worn hilt of his sword. “Your husband, Knight of the Reich Michel Adler, was killed in battle with the Bohemian heretics seven weeks ago.”

His words hit Marie like a blow to the stomach. She pressed her hands to her mouth to stop herself from screaming, and shook her head helplessly.

“Please accept my condolences as well,” Manfred von Banzenburg continued in a casual tone, as if asking a servant whether the stables had been cleaned. “It happened during an expedition into Bohemia, under the command of the extremely honorable Heribald von Seibelstorff. His group was ambushed and almost completely annihilated by the Hussite heretics. The survivors managed to get away thanks only to the heroic actions of the knight Falko von Hettenheim, who covered the retreat against a large number of rebels. Because the dead had to be left behind, your husband didn’t receive a Christian burial.”

Rarely had anyone more callously told a woman she was a widow. Anger washed over Marie at the new castellan’s heartlessness along with waves of grief, and she clenched her teeth to keep herself under control. All Marie could think of was how Michel had only survived his glory and new rank by a few months, and she felt so sick thinking of the brutal end he must have met that she wanted to run away and hide.

“Take care of our guests,” she ordered Marga, disappearing without another word. Lying on her bed a few minutes later and letting her tears freely fall, she realized that she, not Sir Manfred and his family, was now the guest at the castle.

After a tearful and sleepless night, Marie arose, feeling shattered. In the last few hours, all she could think about was why she should stay alive now that Michel was dead. Her faith wasn’t strong enough to sustain her, and she wasn’t afraid of the divine punishment for committing suicide. The unborn child in her belly, however, had been restless, making its presence felt all night as if worried for its life, and she knew that she couldn’t simply seek death. Being rich enough to afford a comfortable life for herself and the child provided no consolation, but she did have a sacred responsibility toward Michel to make sure the fruit of his loins was brought into the world healthy and appropriately raised as the son or daughter of a knight of the Reich.

Instead of waiting for Ischi to bring her warm water from the kitchen, she washed herself with the water left in the jug. Cold as snow on her skin, it revived her spirits, and by the time she left her chamber, she appeared completely composed. The servants seemed to have been waiting for her, because they all came up to her, one after the other, to express their sympathy. Their distraught faces showed not only grief, but also worry about the future. With one look at the new castellan and his wife, they knew that the pleasant times they had enjoyed under their former master and mistress were over. Only Ischi didn’t have to worry, because Marie had promised her a generous dowry so she could marry her Ludolf the next spring. Nevertheless, Michel’s death hit her as hard as if he were a beloved member of her family.

She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron without being able to halt her steady stream of tears, and took Marie’s hand. “Mistress, I am so sorry for you and Sir Michel . . .”

Marie gave Ischi a sad smile, stroking her hair gratefully. Then she hurried into the kitchen to turn her mind to other things. There were now a lot more people to feed, and the cook would need additional maids and kitchen hands. When she entered the kitchen, a girl who usually scrubbed the floors brought over her breakfast porridge, staring at her anxiously. Marie gave the maid an encouraging nod and ate a little. The porridge was no different than usual, but she felt as if she were chewing dry, dusty parchment. While trying to swallow the few crushed grains in her mouth, she saw there wasn’t a kettle of fresh water on the trivet above the stove and scolded the cook. “Our guests will want to wash, and they can’t do it outside at the well in this weather.” She couldn’t bring herself to regard Sir Manfred and Lady Kunigunde as masters of the castle yet, but instead viewed them as intruders who had brought nothing but sorrow into her world. To distract herself from the grief that raged in her heart for her husband, she searched out Marga and asked where the new arrivals were.

“I have accommodated the new castellan, his family, and his retinue in the great hall for now, mistress, and I’m just on my way to serve them breakfast.”

“Yes, please do. I’ll also go and see what I can do for them.” Marie turned toward the great hall designed for receiving and entertaining that she had furnished so carefully. She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down at the family gathered there. These people must have lived in a drafty, crowded castle inhabited by several families, where beds of fresh straw were a luxury and the servants huddled closely together in dark corners at night, holding their dogs tightly to keep warm.

Marie had stayed at similar castles with Michel on their way to large fairs, and she shuddered at the thought of having to live like many of those old nobles, who had nothing left but their name, an uncomfortable fort as a home, and a small village with bonded peasants who starved so that the family in the castle could eat.

Lady Kunigunde had already spotted Marie and rushed toward her with open arms. Apparently wanting to make up for the clumsy way her husband had broken the news of Michel’s death, she pulled Marie close and let her eyes grow damp. “I am so sorry for you, my dear. I can perfectly imagine what it must be like to lose your husband so close to your child’s birth.”

You will never be able to understand my feelings for Michel
, Marie thought, her voice failing, as Lady Kunigunde continued her
one-sided
conversation. “Please don’t think we’re trying to push you out, Lady Marie,” she grandly assured her. “On the contrary, you will remain the mistress of the house for as long as you like. My family and I will be content with a few modest rooms and wish for nothing more than to live together with you in harmony.”

Appreciating the genial overture, Marie freed herself from the woman’s embrace with a heavy sigh. “I thank you for your sympathy, Lady Kunigunde, and also for understanding how difficult it is right now for me to accept my fate. But I won’t withhold from you what is your due.”

She didn’t see Kunigunde’s eyes light up at this, because just then, one of the young men in the knight’s retinue joined them. He was wearing a clergyman’s cassock and made the sign of the cross with his right hand.

“This is Matthias, our
second-born
,” Lady Kunigunde said. “He will remain with us for a while to assist my husband with the oversight of Rheinsobern.”

Matthias looked at Marie with the arrogance of a man who considered himself far superior to the
less-educated
. “God’s blessing on you, my child,” he said to her, though he was at least ten years younger, adding a few
Latin-sounding
words.
“In nominus Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus
.
”

Marie suppressed a smile at his clumsy Latin, but before she could reply, he took her by the arm and pulled her closer.

“I want to talk with your husband’s clerk about the administration of Rheinsobern, seeing that I will be assuming this task from now on.”

“My husband’s clerk is standing right before you—I have been looking after the books.” Marie’s voice was cool because she disliked the greed in the clergyman’s tone, and she heartily wished she could drive to the goat farm and be comforted by Hiltrud rather than having to take this arrogant fellow into the castle’s office to show him the books.

But she couldn’t neglect her duties, and waving at the visibly bewildered man to follow her, she led him through several drafty corridors to the tower chamber where she and Michel kept the documents and account books, along with their own money. There, two upholstered cherrywood chairs and a table with artfully carved legs sat in the middle of the room, from which one could reach the sideboard containing several piles of bound books and numerous scrolls. The most important documents and the money were kept in an iron safe underneath the sideboard, for which she had the only key. The greatest luxury of the small chamber, however, was the fireplace, where several large logs were burning brightly, giving off a pleasant warmth. The two windows overlooked the courtyard as well as the forecourt.

Matthias briefly gazed out a window before turning to Marie. “You will give me the key to the chest now, my child.” Marie hesitated briefly, but reminded herself she wasn’t responsible for the town’s management any longer, and fumbled with the key ring she carried on her belt. Hastily grabbing it, then opening the chest, he glanced only briefly at the documents and books, put them aside, and stared greedily at the shiny gold guilders underneath. But before he could reach for them, Marie picked most of them up.

“This money belongs to me. I only put it in the chest to keep it safe.”

“Anyone could say that!” the priest shouted, outraged.

“Here is the receipt stating the sum, signed by my husband and me.” Marie pulled a sheet from the pile that Matthias had just shoved aside and handed it to him. “If that’s not enough for you, Venerable Father, I can show you the office’s account books listing every sum belonging to Rheinsobern.” Marie was annoyed. She wouldn’t have been much poorer without the two hundred guilders she’d taken from the chest, but it was her money and she couldn’t see why they should have it.

With a sour expression, Matthias counted the remaining coins and then checked the account books to see if the sum was correct. To his irritation it was, and his face fell even more when he went through the tax lists and found the amount Michel Adler sent to the count palatine in duties each year. He had made inquiries as to how much Rheinsobern earned, and he saw to his chagrin that Michel had kept for himself only as much money as was his by right. The sum was sufficient to maintain the castle, pay the servants, and support two people relatively comfortably, but not any more. Matthias was beyond disappointed and had to breathe deeply to prevent himself from venting his anger with harsh words. As the son of a destitute knight, he hadn’t even been able to buy the poorest benefice, and so he had been looking forward to the rich revenues of Rheinsobern.