Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (30 page)

12.

There wasn’t a single man or woman in Sir Heinrich’s group who didn’t wish Marek Lasicek to hell. The Czech was leading them east on paths that looked more like goat trails, and he often seemed to be randomly taking them through the most impassable parts of the forest he could find. Time and time again they had to clear the path of fallen trees, trembling with fear that Hussite patrols might hear their axes, but miraculously they didn’t meet anyone. But that proved small consolation, as the undergrowth they had to make their way through seemed to consist of nothing but prickles and thorns.

The group had left Nuremberg with a hundred seventy men, as another sixty foot soldiers had been sent by the kaiser’s commanders to join Heinrich’s palatine army and Sprüngli’s Swiss. At first, Sir Heinrich had been glad to have the reinforcements, but after only one day, he had begun to curse them, as he had clearly been sent the biggest troublemakers in the entire imperial army.

Some of them had disappeared after only a few days, which relieved the leaders. The only one annoyed by the desertions was Theres, as she had given two of them food and new shirts on credit. After that, she made the remaining soldiers pay first before she handed over her goods, though this didn’t dissuade future men from deserting—they just bought what they needed to survive in the forest before leaving.

In the end, only about half of the reinforcements remained with the army, and after more than three weeks of hard marching, the whole unit of soldiers had become a
tight-knit
group. Sometimes they had to climb slopes so steep that all the animals had to be hitched to a single wagon, and a dozen men had to push the wagon until it was safely at the top. Then they’d let the wagons down with ropes and winches on the other side. Eva, Theres, and the drivers of the baggage wagons had to stay in their seats each time, terrified, as they’d heard of earlier incidents when ropes broke and wagons fell, shattering at the bottom of steep mountainsides. During such maneuvers, Eva gave Trudi to either Michi or Junker Heribert, who carried the girl on their shoulders until they had passed the danger. Despite all their efforts, they still had to destroy more than half their wagons and slaughter the injured animals.

When Marek finally announced to Heinrich that they had made it through the Bohemian Forest and were close to their destination, the group almost became cheerful. The knight picked up Trudi, which he hardly ever did, and fed her prunes from Eva’s store. “You have deserved them, little girl, as you were more valuable than our flag on this march.”

Marek looked at the girl fondly. “You’re right, Sir Knight. She enchanted us all and let us forget the hardships of the road.”

Heinrich von Hettenheim snorted. “Now you can admit, Marek, that you just followed your nose toward your home, as that certainly never was a proper road.”

“Oh yes, it was! It used to be a
well-traveled
road, though not for carts and wagons. Bohemian peddlers carried their goods on it to the Upper Palatinate and Franconia. Later, my
brother-in
-law
used this path to flee from the Taborites with my sister, but it didn’t help them. They settled down in a village farther west, in an area faithful to King Sigismund, thinking they were safe. Not long after, they were killed in a raid.” The pain and hatred was clear on Marek’s face.

“We heard the Hussites don’t take pity on their own people.”

Marek clenched his fists. “That’s true, but in this case it wasn’t Hussites laying waste to the area, but your cousin Falko and his people. He doesn’t care whom he slaughters.”

“I know my cousin well enough.” Sir Heinrich grimaced, then put Trudi down again and prompted her toward Eva. Staring intently at Marek, he let out a bitter laugh. “There’s no enemy I hate more passionately than my cousin. But you can’t choose your family.”

Marek nodded understandingly and turned his eyes eastward, toward Sokolny’s castle, and expressed his hope of reaching it within two days. “I’ll be glad to get home, even if the real danger is waiting for us there. Your arrival will give my people courage.”

“I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed, as they probably hoped for more serious help than the few foot soldiers I’m bringing.” The knight sighed deeply.

“Any help is welcome, and maybe your men will make the difference between holding the castle or not.”

“I’m not particularly confident. Fanatics like the Hussites won’t stop until your castle has fallen or the last of their men has bled to death outside its walls.” Not for the first time Heinrich fought despondency, viewing himself and his people as a sacrifice the kaiser had given lightly to make himself feel generous and noble.

Marek noticed the knight’s downcast expression and chuckled. “Chin up, Sir Heinrich! There’s still a sharp sword in your sheath, and your soldiers are in fine spirits. Once we’re sitting at the count’s table the day after tomorrow, drinking our good beer and eating Wanda’s excellent roast goose, everything will seem a little brighter. You Germans have a tendency to make life hard for yourselves. I see it with our Frantischek, who can’t remember who he is or where he’s from, and desperately broods instead of being glad he’s still alive.”

Sir Heinrich looked at him curiously. “You have a fellow countryman of mine in your castle?”

“Yes, for more than two years.”

“A man who has lost his mind? It’s generous of Count Sokolny to look after an enemy.”

“No, no, he hasn’t lost his mind, just his memory. Other than that, he’s got a clear head and is the bravest fellow I’ve ever met, killing a fully grown bear with only his knife as a weapon.”

Sir Heinrich stared at him in disbelief. “Then he was either showing off or in a desperate situation.”

“He threw himself between the bear and my lord’s daughter to save Janka’s life.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you or him. Since it was a matter of a lady’s life, the man’s act was brave.”

“Yes, it was indeed, and he knows a lot about warfare, too. He completely changed our men’s training and pointed out our castle’s weaknesses. I think that man’s worth more to us than all your men together.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him, and I’m also curious about your beer and roast goose.” Sir Heinrich slapped Marek’s shoulder, laughing more cheerfully than he had in weeks, and a broad grin spread across Marek’s face.

Heinrich rose and gazed at his men gathered around small, almost smokeless fires, talking quietly. “Let’s hope this isn’t the last evening we can laugh together. But now we should go to bed. It’s late and, as you said, we still have a long way to march.”

The knight slapped him on the shoulder a second time and returned to the camp. Marek stayed behind, lost in thought. In Nuremberg, he hadn’t thought much of the Germans who were to accompany him to Falkenhain, but he’d changed his mind during the march. Heinrich von Hettenheim was a good leader, and most of his men had given their best for his sake. Marek had also learned to appreciate the rough sense of humor of the Swiss soldiers, even though he struggled to follow their dialect, and now even understood young Seibelstorff, whom he at first considered an arrogant upstart. The Junker was suffering from injured pride and would probably never forgive the kaiser for so casually dismissing his badly wounded father. But most of all, he was impressed by the young man’s carefully nurtured hatred for Falko von Hettenheim. If that marauding bandit in knight’s clothing had more enemies like that in the Reich, he wouldn’t be able to murder Bohemians loyal to the king for much longer.

Though Marek shook his head, trying to cast off his thoughts about Sir Falko, his mood progressively worsened. Exhaling sharply, he turned to look eastward again, where Falkenhain stood, thinking about the Taborites who would soon be attacking the peaceful valley and killing its inhabitants. Despite what he’d told Sir Heinrich, he didn’t really believe the handful of men he’d brought would save his home.

13.

The next day, the group made good progress. They followed one of the dark forest creeks, its shallow bed serving as a road, unobstructed by branches and bushes. In the afternoon, they reached the overgrown ruins of a small town, indicating they were now in the once densely populated area around Sokolny’s castle.

Marek directed his horse to Sir Heinrich’s side and pointed at the destroyed houses. “This used to be the town of Grünthal, one of the many German settlements in the area. The inhabitants were mostly craftsmen and peddlers who regularly came to Falkenhain to offer their goods and services. But none of them is alive anymore, as the town was attacked and destroyed in one of the first Taborite raids.”

Silently, Heinrich inspected the ruins. As he rode on, his horse’s right front hoof hit a pile of dried leaves. The leaves scattered, and a round object rolled down the road. When it came to a stop, Hettenheim saw that it was a human skull bleached by the sun and wind, grinning up at him with hollow eyes. Forcing himself to look away, he directed his horse around it. Nothing could have been a better reminder of the constant presence of danger there. The sight of the dead town settled on the men’s souls like a blight. No one joked anymore, and that evening they were quiet and withdrawn, sitting around the small piles of almost
smoke-free
embers they had lit in deep hollows to avoid enemy detection. But when the sun colored the horizon a golden red the next morning, the shadows of the previous day dispersed, and everyone was eager to march.

“Tonight we’ll sleep in our own beds,” Marek called to Labunik as he swung himself into the saddle.

“We should thank God!” The nobleman didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, despite his words. He was glad about not having to spend another cold night on the bare ground, but he wasn’t as eager as Marek to get home, as he couldn’t think of anything but the Hussites who’d turn up in a few weeks’ time. And yet he didn’t wish he were back in Nuremberg, either. While he didn’t feel any heroic compulsions, Falkenhain was his only home, and his heart would remain loyal to Václav Sokolny to the end.

Upon leaving that morning, Marek urged Sir Heinrich to speed up the march, and when they stopped for lunch, he couldn’t sit still any longer. “If you don’t mind, Sir Knight, I’d like to ride ahead and announce your arrival to the count. Pán Feliks can lead you the rest of the way.”

Sir Heinrich didn’t think much of Labunik, but they had less than a mile to go and could hardly miss their destination. “Ride ahead and let them prepare our welcoming beer, my friend!”

Marek mounted his horse and was about to leave, when Michi appeared, looking at them pleadingly. “Can I go along?”

When Marek nodded at Heinrich, the knight smiled in agreement. “All right! But make sure you make a good impression on Count Sokolny and his people. You represent the kaiser’s men, after all!”

“Really?” Michi’s eyes were shining with excitement.

Marek held out his hand. “Stop gawking and get on the horse, or we might as well travel with the others.”

Michi blushed and let Marek pull him onto the horse. As he’d hardly ever ridden, he clung tightly to Marek at first, holding his breath when the man spurred the animal on, forcing it into a gallop almost immediately. Despite their headlong rush through the forested mountains covered in ancient beeches and firs, Marek was able to point out places where ancient trees still stood, gnarled with age.

“Over there, on the Lom’s western flank, I killed my first bear, and behind that hill over there, my first wolf. And at that little lake over there, Wanda and I . . . Ha, no, that’s none of your business,” Marek said, breaking off with a grin, and tried to ignore Michi, who was dying to know what he and the cook had been up to there.

“We certainly weren’t just looking for mushrooms,” he said when Michi persisted.

The boy looked at the Czech admiringly. Even though he revered Sir Heinrich and was good friends with Anselm and Görch, there had never been anyone who understood him better than Marek. While the older man reminisced, Michi gazed over the land. Suddenly he started and pulled on Marek’s sleeve. “Look, there’s a large fire burning up ahead!”

Marek squinted. “That’s not a single fire, my boy. There are too many columns of smoke for that. It looks more like the cooking fires of an entire army—exactly in the direction of our castle. We’d better continue on foot and find out what’s happening. I don’t want to ride right into trouble.” He reined his horse in, jumped down from the saddle, and lifted Michi down. “We’ll look for a hiding place for the horse first. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

Marek led the horse past some giant trees covered with moss to a spot where a tornado had struck many years ago, knocking down the trees. Over time, a young forest had grown, and firs and birches stood closely together, while overrun blackberry bushes created an almost impenetrable wall. But Marek didn’t let that stop him, pushing his way between the bushes until he found a suitable spot.

“We’ll leave the horse here,” he told Michi as he tied the animal to a solid fir. “If there’s nothing wrong at the castle, one of the servants can fetch it.” He beckoned to Michi to follow, and made his way back out. When they were finally back among the tall, old trees whose dense tops didn’t allow for much undergrowth, their arms and legs were full of scratches, and Michi had to lift his shirt to shake out all the pine needles he had collected along the way.

“That pricks,” he said to Marek with a grin.

“When I was your age, I loved spots like this. No one would see us roasting the hares we’d trapped. It was a different time back then, I tell you.” Michi nodded appreciatively. At another time, he would have loved to roam the forests with the man and learn from him, but now he couldn’t think of anything but the columns of smoke, and he was scared to death. Marek had told him that his people wouldn’t have lit such smoky fires, which Michi took to mean that there were Hussites camping ahead.

They cautiously clambered along the hillside until they could peer over the flat area that surrounded Sokolny’s castle on three sides. Hundreds of wagons formed a ring at the foot of the castle hill, enclosing Falkenhain almost completely. Michi guessed there were more than ten times as many men camped down there as there were in their own group, and Marek raised his estimate again by half, swearing in his mother tongue. “It’s those cursed Taborites. They must have changed their plans and come sooner than we expected.”

Michi stared at him anxiously. “What are we supposed to do now? We can’t get in like that.”

His face expressionless, Marek replied. “You’re damned right. Your knight and his men can’t help my people any more, and you should all leave as soon as you can.”

“Sir Heinrich certainly won’t do that, as the kaiser would call him a miserable coward.”

Marek shook his head in annoyance. “You don’t understand, boy. Courage is admirable, but too much of it is bad. Any attempt to attack this army is doomed from the start, and your knight will understand that. You have to turn around; otherwise you’ll all be killed for nothing.”

“What are you going to do?”

Grumbling, Marek took a deep breath. “I’ll return to my lord. Somehow I’ll manage to get into the castle.”

“Well, if you can do it, so can the rest of us.”

Marek tousled the boy’s hair with a bitter laugh. “You never give up, do you, lad?”

Michi nodded and pointed to the ring surrounding the castle. “We only have to break through in one place to get to the gate. Can’t we just try at night?”

“Only if the fellows are so fast asleep that even a cannon firing next to their heads wouldn’t wake them.” Marek was joking, but he suddenly became thoughtful. “The count and Frantischek need to know we’re here. But we can neither call out to them nor give them a sign.” He scrutinized Michi, measuring his shoulders with his hands. “You’re a pretty agile little lad, aren’t you?”

Michi nodded, and a smile darted across Marek’s face. “See that line of thick bushes over there? There’s a creek bed below it that has carved its way deep into the rock.”

The boy stared toward where he was pointing. “Yes, and what about it?”

“There’s a spring in the castle that runs into this creek through a natural tunnel. As boys, we used to have fun squeezing through that tunnel and playing in the bushes at the bottom even if we almost drowned along the way, because no one could find us there. The tunnel is too narrow for a grown man, but a skinny rag like you might manage.”

“Into the castle? Oh yes!” Michi jumped up and down with excitement, and Marek pulled him to the ground so he wouldn’t be seen from below. Taking the boy by the hand, Marek crept forward some more, and pointed to an old willow, its trunk bent almost horizontal.

“Do you see that crooked tree? The tunnel ends just to the left of it. Just make sure no one’s coming to fetch water while you wade through the creek, and you should reach the tunnel without being seen. It would be better to wait until nightfall, but you might miss the entrance in the dark.”

“Then I’ll go just before dusk, when the shadows are already getting dark. What should I tell your master once I’m in the castle?”

“Tell him I’m back, and I’ve brought a hundred forty brave men who are thirsty for Wanda’s beer and don’t intend to let the Taborites stop them from drinking it.” Marek gave Michi an encouraging pat on the shoulders and urged him to be careful as he prepared to leave. “I’ll go back to Sir Heinrich and warn him, or else he’ll lead his men straight into the hands of the Taborites.” With one last wave, Marek soundlessly disappeared through the gnarled, old trees.

Retreating deeper into the forest, Michi hid in a dense thicket. His heart was pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer, and he was more scared than he’d ever been. Nevertheless, Marek had said he could do it, and Michi didn’t want to disappoint him or Sir Heinrich. The boy knew that with so many Hussites swarming throughout the area, their small group wouldn’t make it home. Their only chance of survival was to get into the castle as soon as possible.

When the sun disappeared behind the peaks, he carefully approached the creek at a spot where it flowed right along the edge of the forest. Climbing into the water, he waded up the creek bed, unafraid of being seen, as the steep banks were densely overgrown with bushes and willows.

Approaching the tunnel entrance, he heard someone walking through the bushes in front of him. Quickly slipping into the water so that only his head was sticking out behind a curtain of green leaves, he waited with a pounding heart. The person stopped alongside the creek just a few paces in front of him, and Michi pushed one of the branches aside to peer through the gap. At first he breathed a sigh of relief, as it was only a woman, but upon seeing her full washing basket, he realized she would be there until dark.

Just as he started to pray for the woman to go away, she turned and knelt by the water, and he could see her clearly. His body turned stiff as a board and his mouth opened to scream, because the stunningly beautiful, if now slightly careworn face underneath a crown of golden hair belonged to a woman he thought was dead.