ALTDORF (The Forest Knights: Book 1) (30 page)

“Do not mourn me, Thomi. I lived enough for ten men…just promise me you will live enough for one.”

Pirmin’s eyes slowly closed. His breathing became less labored, and the muscles in his face relaxed.

“I will,” Thomas said under his breath.

Seraina felt tears building as she watched Thomas make the sign of the cross above Pirmin and then go on to absolve him of all the sins he had committed in this life. It was a ritual she did not understand, but she appreciated seeing the comfort it brought to Thomas.

Pirmin never opened his eyes again. When he died a few moments later, Seraina felt a great saddening within the Weave; a collective tremor that only occurred with the loss of one who had touched a great many. The world would be a poorer place without Pirmin Schnidrig, until the Weave could usher in the likes of him once again. It may take years, but it would happen.

They sat with him for a few minutes more and then Seraina convinced Thomas they had to leave. Judge Furst would see that Pirmin was removed from the cell and buried properly, not simply thrown on the garbage heap outside the walls. She promised.

Seraina led Thomas out of the cell and back to the door that opened into a corner of the fortress’s courtyard. She threw open the door and pulled Thomas behind her into the bright mid-day sun.

Into the midst of a dozen armed soldiers with crossbows and bristling spear points leveled their way.

“Welcome to the light,” Duke Leopold said.

Chapter 34

“T
HAT IS NOT Melchthal,” Landenberg said, disappointment heavy in his words. He rammed his sword back into its sheath.

“Bring them before me,” Leopold said. A page stood behind him holding two saddled mounts, one for him and the other for Gissler. Leopold was to return to Habsburg this day, but when he got news that Walter Furst had been caught stealing keys to the jails, he decided to postpone his journey for a short while.

“Wait!” Gissler stepped forward and shouted at the soldiers surrounding Thomas and Seraina. “No one take another step. Remove your belt knife, Thomas.”

“You know this man?” Leopold took a closer look at the man and woman who had emerged from the prisons. He had seen the girl before, but could not place where. The man however, he was sure he did not know. His scarred face would not have been easy to forget.

Gissler nodded, but did not look at the Duke. His eyes were fixed on the man he called Thomas.

“Aye, my lord. And he is not a man you want within arm’s reach of a dagger.”

At first Leopold thought the man might be simple, the way his head was bowed, and his movements unsteady. But when he turned his face up and met Gissler’s eyes with a cold glare, Leopold immediately recognized him as a soldier.

“Yet another Hospitaller? It is no wonder the Holy wars go badly—you are all here.”

“Pirmin is dead,” Thomas said. The words, quiet and menacing, were directed at Gissler.

Leopold was not surprised by this news. He had seen the man’s wounds, but Gissler flinched, and did not immediately respond.

“He chose his path,” Gissler finally said. “Do not make his mistakes your own. Resist and it will not go well for you,” he nodded in the girl’s direction, “or your pretty friend.”

Thomas assessed the situation with fresh eyes, seeing the spear points within thrusting distance of himself and his companion. Leopold had no doubt that if Thomas were alone, his actions would have been quite different. As it was, however, he edged his hand away from his knife handle and undid the clasp on his belt. He held it out and a soldier hooked it with the point of his sword and backed away. The soldiers pushed them to the center of the courtyard, where Leopold, Gissler, and Landenberg stood.

“On your knees. You are in the presence of your rulers,” Landenberg said, he sidled closer to Leopold, giving the girl a lascivious stare. She held her head up high and refused to meet the eyes of either man. Leopold smiled. Landenberg would have his hands full indeed if he tried to take this one.

“Bend your knee,” Landenberg repeated. When neither the man nor the woman moved to do so, a soldier forced them down by rapping each one in turn between their shoulder blades with the butt end of his spear.

A crowd was beginning to gather. Work on the walls had come to a standstill since Landenberg had pulled some of the guards away to ambush who he had assumed was Arnold Melchthal, come to rescue his outlaw lieutenant. It was a motley group: condemned men and women, paid laborers, master masons, and even the parish priest of Altdorf milled about curious to see what the commotion was about. It was also market day in Altdorf, so the town was busier than normal. Since the fortress was situated just outside of town, vendors had been coming and going from the fortress with their wares since early morning.

“They caught the witch!” a woman said. “As I thought, she is in league with the ferryman.”

Leopold turned to see an old woman pointing at the auburn-haired girl on her knees. “I knew God was listening,” the woman continued. She ran forward and spit at the side of the girl’s head. She flinched and regarded her assailant with a hurt look in her striking green eyes. People began murmuring, and the word ‘witch’ traveled through the mob like wildfire.

Interesting development, Leopold thought. He turned to Gissler.

“Return to the stable master and procure a cage wagon, with two guards provisioned for the road. And find Bernard. Tell him to pack my manuscript in the wagon and follow us as soon as he is able.”

The soldiers opened their circle and Gissler pushed away into the crowd.

“She-Devil!”

The old woman took another run at the girl, but Landenberg intervened and pushed her away.

“Get the Menznau woman away from here,” he said to a soldier. The man turned his spear sideways and was about to push the woman away when Leopold spoke up.

“Hold on. Mother, are you accusing this girl of witchcraft?”

The old woman fell to her knees and clasped her hands before her chest. “I do my lord. She said she would help my son, instead she fed his soul to the Devil!”

Gasps could be heard from the onlookers.

The girl shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, it is not so. I never even saw—” Landenberg cut the girl off with a hard slap, and her hand went to her mouth. His breathing quickened at the sight of a thin line of blood from her lip and the remains of his handprint on her skin. The man, Thomas, reached out to her, and simultaneously narrowed his dark eyes at Landenberg.

“Do not speak in front of your betters, girl.” Turning to Leopold he said, “Perhaps we should search her for the Devil’s mark, my lord.”

“Seraina is no witch!” Thomas said.

Landenberg raised his arm and stepped forward.

“Stay your hand, Vogt,” Leopold said. “The man is a Hospitaller. He has earned the right to speak.”

Landenberg grunted and stepped back.

“So tell us. Why do you defend this woman when she has so many accusers? A man of God should know better.” Leopold said.

“She has done nothing. I demand you set her free.”

Landenberg laughed. “Not bloody likely. Better chance of pissing uphill in a föhn.”

Thomas slowly eased himself off the ground to his feet and locked eyes with Leopold. The soldier next to Leopold followed Thomas’s every move with his crossbow.

“I am Thomas Schwyzer, a Captain of the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem, subject only to the commands of His Eminence, the Pope. In His name and that of our Lord Jesus Christ, I demand you set this woman free and trouble her no more.”

The crowd was silent. More than a few crossed themselves. Leopold was impressed with the faith and conviction he heard in Thomas’s words, but he also sensed something else.
Desperation perhaps?

“Well, Thomas…
Schwyzer
was it? Hardly a blue-blooded name. I would think someone of your exalted rank could do better. But putting that aside for the moment, I certainly do not wish to upset the Pope, in the off chance you do indeed have His ear.”

He raised his voice and addressed the crowd. “So I offer you a chance to prove yourself. Here, in front of these good people of Altdorf and in the presence of God.”

The crowd erupted into a chorus of shouts and cheers.

Now, where was that damned Bernard?

Chapter 35

S
ERAINA’S KNEES ached and although her lip had ceased bleeding, her face still throbbed from Landenberg’s blow. She heard someone curse her name, and the word ‘witch’ rang out all around her. The energy of the crowd was dizzying and she felt herself panic. She closed her eyes, but found no peace in the darkness, for the image of the villagers of Tellikon feeding a crippled newborn into flames only became so much more vivid.

She thought of running. If she could make it to the trees she would have a chance, for they would conceal her. But her heart fell when she craned her neck and saw nothing but broken walls and open land in all directions.
Killing fields,
the engineers called them. It had been a moment of fantasy, for she knew she could not leave Thomas.

“Do you know the story of Palnatoki?” Leopold asked Thomas, but he spoke in a voice that carried throughout the crowd. A soldier at each of his arms held crossbows loaded and aimed at Thomas’s head. Others formed a circle to keep the crowd of people in order.

“It was a favorite of mine as a child, told to me by my father’s greatest military advisor. His storytelling abilities, I must say, rivaled his military genius.”

Thomas glanced at Seraina. His hard expression melted for the briefest of moments.

“I think I like this one,” Landenberg said. “Palnatoki was a warrior in Dane’s Land, am I right?”

Leopold blinked, obviously surprised.

“Right you are. But he was much more than a simple warrior. He was the bravest, fiercest, most skilled soldier in the land. So skilled, that his own king became jealous of his exploits and plotted against him.”

As he spoke Leopold began walking. The guards opened up the circle for him.

“One day, when Palnatoki was drunk, the king overheard him boasting about his archery abilities. He claimed he could shoot an apple off the end of a stick at a hundred paces. The king called him on his claim, saying he would not have liars in his personal guard.”