Wolf's Cross (33 page)

J
osef remembered little of the next hour or so. He was placed on a table in an unfamiliar room. Men came and went. The doctor or his assistant forced him to drink wine flavored with bitter herbs until his stomach was near bursting and his vision became cloudy and unfocused. They talked much, but he understood little. Maria held his hand.

They placed a leather-wrapped block of wood in his mouth as they tore the bandages free and washed his wound, and he thought the pain of that was intolerable. Then they used a needle to close the wound again.

She held his hand through it all, even when he clenched it in pain.

When the doctor had finished, he bent over Josef and said in butchered German, “You be fine.” The words came out in a breath that stank as if the doctor had taken several doses of his own medicine. He slapped Josef’s shoulder and said, “Strong.”

He chuckled and left. For the moment, Josef was alone with Maria.

Josef reached up to touch the clean linens that now covered his belly. The doctor’s assistant had washed him only as far up as his sternum, so a line separated clean skin from the mud and blood spatters on his chest.

“Leave it be,” Maria said.

He looked up at her; her face looked pale. She had sat there, watching the whole thing, and it had probably been all the worse for her, without pain and alcohol to take her mind off it. “The doctor said I’d be fine.”

“God willing,” she said.

He leaned his head back down, because the wine made his head swim. “I think I’m more ill from the cure than the wound.”

“You rest, Josef. Please? I will go talk to the bishop.”

“I should see you there, explain—” He started to push himself up from the table, but she placed her hand on his chest.

She leaned over him, her face above his so that her hair brushed his cheek. Her eyes shone with reflected tears. “Whatever happens,” she said, “please don’t risk yourself again. Not for me.”

“I—”

She interrupted him by lowering her mouth to his. Her lips were sweet, and soft, and trembled slightly as she cried. She raised her head and laid a hand against his cheek. “You cannot love me, Josef.”

“Maria—”

She placed her fingers on his lips, and he saw an expression of wrenching sadness on her face. “More than anything, I want that. If I were the woman you think I am, I’d fall into your arms and gladly go wherever you led.” Her thumb traced his lower lip. “But if I did that, it would be an unspeakable cruelty.”

“But—”

“Promise that you will forget me,” she whispered.

“I can’t—”

This time he was interrupted by a familiar voice from the doorway. “Who is this woman, and what is she doing with my man?”

Maria straightened up and turned toward the doorway, allowing Josef an unobstructed view of Komtur Heinrich. His master bore an expression of pure malice, directed right at Maria.

The Pole Telek, the new lord of Gród Narew, walked in from behind Heinrich and looked at Maria with an expression of grim but unfocused anger. “She is a servant, Brother Heinrich.”

“Then why is she acting the harlot?” Heinrich snapped.

Some of Telek’s anger seemed to find a focus in Heinrich. “She was the person I charged with taking care of your knight here.”

“Taking care—”

“His wounds. His meals.”

“You had a woman do this for a monk?”

“Sir—” Josef began.

Heinrich pointed a bony finger at him and said, “Silence. Nothing from your lips, Josef. I see what has turned you from the Order, and I have no heart now to hear of your sins.”

“Brother Heinrich,” Telek snapped, “we only have so many servants that speak your tongue well enough to be of use.”

“And you took no consideration of our vows, our commitments to God?”

“This is not a monastery.”

“So you ply my men with whores and prostitutes?”

“I am not a whore!”

Josef’s breath froze in his mouth as he heard Maria’s words. Her voice sounded strained, hurt, but her eyes glared at Heinrich with a dangerous fury.

Heinrich drew back for a second—the shock of a man who was never corrected by his lesser. Then, even though his voice changed little in tenor or tone, his face turned the ruddy color of barely repressed anger. He took a stride across the room. “You will not contradict me, woman!”

Heinrich backhanded her with his closed fist. Her head jerked to the side, and Josef felt blood spray across his naked chest. He pushed himself upright as Telek stepped forward and grabbed the Komtur’s shoulders. “This is quite enough!” Telek said as he pulled Heinrich back.

Maria spat blood from her crushed lip and said quietly, “Is this how you serve God?”

Heinrich raised his hand again, but Telek grabbed his wrist. Maria stood unbowed, glaring at Komtur Heinrich, waiting for him to strike her again.

They were interrupted by a breathless guard bursting into the room, yelling in Polish. Josef understood none of the guard’s babbling except for the name “Telek.” However, Josef could see the reactions in the faces of those around him. Maria’s eyes went wide, and her blood-streaked mouth hung open. Telek’s jaw set firm, and he tightened his grip on Heinrich’s arm.

“You should come, Brother Heinrich,” Telek said. “We may have need of your expertise.”

Heinrich, who knew a fair bit more of the Slavic languages than Josef did, had obviously understood enough to distract him from correcting Maria. “Take me there,” he said.

“What has happened?” Josef asked.

“He’s here,” Maria said, her voice as quiet as death.

Telek led Heinrich away, but as they left, Heinrich said, “Do not leave that woman alone with him. He is yet a member of the Order, and until he is released he will behave as one.”

Telek snapped something in Polish, finishing with a dismissive wave at Maria.

Maria looked down at Josef and gently touched his arm.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“I have to leave you,” she said. “Please stay here and heal. Find a safe life without me.”

“Maria—” His voice died in his throat. He looked up into her
face, bloodied from Heinrich’s blow. His fist had split her lip and left a long cut on her cheek—at least that’s what he had seen after his master struck her. As she looked down at him now, her lip wasn’t swollen or bruised at all. Except for a smear of blood, her lip was untouched. Even the tiny cut on her cheek seemed much smaller than he remembered from a moment ago.

And as he looked up into her face, he saw the cut on her cheek shrink, then completely disappear. “Your face,” he whispered.

In response, her hand went to her chest, between her breasts. It was a gesture he had seen her make many times, touching the silver cross she always wore.

But she wasn’t wearing it now.

The guard stepped next to her and said something, and Maria nodded as the man led her away.

Josef stared after her.

“This cannot be,” he whispered. “God, please show me that this isn’t so.”

When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he slowly sat up and climbed carefully off the table.

T
elek led Brother Heinrich though the alleys of Gród Narew, toward the stables. As he passed the guards, he shouted orders to alert the Duke, to rouse all the able-bodied men available, and to gather the resident Germans.

In between, he told Heinrich, “You are going to order your men to lead teams to search the fortress and find this thing.”

“You are not one to command me.”

“This is my demesne, and it would do well for you to do as I wish.”

“Must I remind you that the Duke himself has given us let to go abroad and perform our duties as we see fit?”

They reached the stables, where a dozen armed men waited for them. Telek turned to Heinrich and whispered in German that only Heinrich could understand, “The Duke doesn’t know that this beast you hunt is something you brought upon us.
Yet.”

“What are you accusing me of?”

“No accusations,” Telek said. “I only point out that our Duke is not yet familiar with the work of Brother Semyon.” Telek felt the satisfaction of seeing Heinrich’s reserve break. Heinrich’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly.
Yes, that doesn’t just
threaten your mission, does it? If your secrets are made known, you’ll face discipline by your own masters, won’t you?

He allowed Heinrich a moment to fully understand his threat; then he added, “You would do well to understand that I
will
see my uncle avenged.”

He walked up to the guards in front of the stables and they parted to let him pass. As he moved into the aisleway, the smell of blood caught in his throat. The stable hands had taken the horses out to pasture, so it was silent in here except for the buzzing of flies.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. As Heinrich walked up next to him, Telek began to resolve abstract piles in the sawdust into parts of a human body. The boy had been torn apart—arm here, leg there, head over there. Blood soaked the sawdust in the aisle, turning it black as tar in the dim light.

The two of them stood in silence for a long moment. Above them, the thatch roof began to rattle with rain.

“We will do what we can to assist you,” Heinrich said. “As you ask.”

“Thank you,” Telek said. He walked up to the boy’s remains, and looked into the sawdust. Bloody tracks led away—massive pawprints. “You will advise our men how to fight this thing. How to attack it even if you do not have the boon of a silvered sword.”

Heinrich knelt beside one of the boy’s arms. It had landed next to one of the timbers supporting the roof. Telek saw something clutched in its hand. Heinrich opened the hand and lifted out a silver cross and chain. He held it up and looked at Telek. “Of course we will help you in the hunt for this demon. Perhaps you can help me, and say if you recognize this trinket.”

H
is name was Oles
.

Maria hadn’t known him well, but she’d known him, if only as someone who suffered as much from Lukasz’s arrogance as she did. As the youngest boy working in the stables, he was the one most put upon by men like Lukasz, who could hold their heads up only when pushing someone else’s face into the mud.

But now Oles was dead. She had heard the rycerz’s man reporting that the boy had been torn apart in the stables by some sort of beast.

Maria knew exactly what sort of beast that would be, and the thought of it almost paralyzed her. Why would he hurt Oles? The boy was nothing to Darien. Even had he carried a silver sword, he was less a threat than the elk they had slaughtered in the woods.

She remembered Josef’s words:
“Forty men, women, and children left to rot on the steps of their own church.”

Was that truly what Darien was?

And if so, then what of her?

She had seen the look on Josef’s face as he had stared at hers. Rycerz Telek—
Wojewoda
Telek—and Brother Heinrich had been too preoccupied with the news of Oles to notice her wound healing, but Josef had seen it. He had seen evidence that her ties to the wolf were deeper than any old pagan worship, and infinitely harder to erase.

She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she needed to find Darien before anyone else was hurt. Once they were outside, Maria took a step in the direction of the stables. The guard with her grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Does he know as well?
“I have duties to tend to.” She blushed at the insincerity in her voice.

“Perhaps, but did you not hear? We have a beast running loose within the walls. You should not roam around unescorted.”

She looked at him: a young squire of the szlachta, earnest and
brave, without a clue about what he faced.
You are in more danger than I
, she thought. “I suppose so.”

“Besides, the way to the kitchens is shorter in this direction.”

“Yes,” she said, “it is.”