Escape from the Past (12 page)

“Juliana is deathly afraid of Ott who is after her like a dog in heat. She wants to work for Lady Clara instead. She’d served the Lady in the past, before her husband lost his eyesight. That’s why I went to ask Lady Clara for help.”

“And what did the Lady say?”

“She was going to send for Juliana this afternoon. She told the Duke, she needed help with dressing and her hair so she could look her best for him. The old goat went for it.”

Laughter and shouts exploded around the table.

I grinned, but continued. “I promised Lady Clara I’d get you to free her in return for helping Juliana.”

“You are devoted to the girl.” Werner’s blue eyes flashed.

I lowered my head. Then I nodded.

“So you promised something you had no control over just to save a lass?”

I nodded again. The hall was deathly quiet. What if I’d misjudged the knight and he was not as upright as he’d been made out to be? I’d brought Bero who cowered next to me. We might be in grave danger.

Suddenly, the knight smashed down his cup. “Max Nerds, you have a noble heart. Bring Max and his companion a drink. Let us toast to the men who endure love’s pain.”

Cheers erupted around them as the knights lifted their beakers for another welcome reason to drink. “To Max and his noble heart,” they shouted.

One of the maids handed us pewter mugs and I took a sip. The wine was sour but refreshing and I drank again. Bero did the same. His eyes were shining.

“I have more,” I said. Werner raised his arm once again and the knights quieted. “While I was away this morning, Juliana was taken by Ott. She was gone before Lady Clara could send for her.” At last the energy that had pushed me onward evaporated. I felt utterly worn out and ready to throw myself into the straw at Werner’s feet.

“Has Lady Clara left?”

“No, My Lord, she and the beadle are staying at the Klausenhof to celebrate the harvest festival. But the old fart has a bunch of guards and she’s always in his company.”

Werner jumped to his feet. “We’ll see about that.” He leaned forward and smashed his fist on the table again. “Sinister Schwarzburg is mine. Ever since he’s taken over Rusteberg, he’s been scheming. He makes his own rules, the way he pleases. Now he’s stolen an innocent woman away from her husband who’s been my faithful vassal. And he’s supposed to be clergy.” Werner spat in the straw. “If he weren’t the minion of the archbishop, I would’ve finished him off long ago. Let’s plan.”

I stepped back in surprise. Werner sounded dangerous and livid.

“Sorry, sir, what’s Rusteberg? Lady Clara mentioned it, but I…”

“Rusteberg is a castle near one of our busiest military routes,” Konrad offered. “It also happens to be an important trading road and Schwarzburg is keeping his greedy eyes on that.”

I vaguely remembered seeing a tourist sign about some kind of ruins during a road trip. “What about Juliana?” I said, searching for strength. “If Ott gets his way, she’ll be ruined.”

In the background, the pregnant serving girl stood up and whispered to her friend. Then she raised a feeble hand. “My Lord, may I speak?”

Werner looked up from the round of men and his eyes, which had turned steel-blue with intensity, softened. “Speak your peace, but do it swiftly. We must work on a plan.”

“My Lord,” the pregnant maid said, and curtsied, “I served with Juliana at Lady Miranda’s house. Ott, he…” her voice faltered. But then her chin lifted with anger. “He violated me. I’m carrying his bastard. Then they kicked me out, saying they couldn’t feed another mouth. That I was no longer fit to work. Your Lordship…your wife was kind enough to engage me here.” She lowered her head and curtsied again.

I stared at the young girl, the same age as Juliana. I imagined Ott dragging Juliana into the hay and forcing himself on her. I heard her skirts tear as she screamed.

“Please, My Lord. For the sake of my sister’s honor…will you help her?” Bero’s voice filtered into my fogged brain. He had stepped forward and looked pale but determined. “I bid you to come to her rescue,” Bero whispered. I realized he had to be scared to death.

Werner sat back down. He said something to the two men on his left and they moved closer together.

“Join me at the table, lads. Let us devise a plan how we can free two fine women from the clutches of tyrants.” Knight Werner’s energy was commanding and close up he looked as if he could reduce us to dust with his fist. “Bring fresh food. They must have strength.”

I reluctantly took my seat, not wanting to waste time eating, even if my stomach rumbled. Bero had no such concern. He licked his lips as he scanned the smorgasbord weighing down the table, dishes he’d probably never seen or tasted before.

While we ate roast and bread, followed by apples and pears, the men around us talked. I watched in awe as Bero annihilated several huge chunks of venison, boiled eggs and bread while his cheeks burned red with the unaccustomed wine.

Knight Werner listened and nodded as his men commented
and threw out suggestions. He asked questions and probed like an investigator, his eyes blazing in attention.

“Let’s challenge Schwarzburg. We’ll take care of his guards,” Konrad said.

“Hear, hear,” several of the knights shouted. “Let’s take the bastard down.”

“We don’t know where he is,” the burly guy with the silver cross said. “Unless we confront him at the Klausenhof tonight.”

“He can’t be far,” someone else said. “Let’s send out runners.”

They argued back and forth, their voices echoing off the stone walls, beakers and fists smashing down for emphasis.

“Has everyone said their piece?” Werner said. His men nodded. “What about you, Max? What are you proposing?”

I shrugged. My brain had gone into sleep mode.

Werner leaned back. “Then let me tell you what I think.” He looked around the room, making eye contact with each man. “I do not want to get mixed up in his tax business. That will bring nothing but the wrath of the bishop. We cannot attack him on the road.”

“Then let’s get him at the Klausenhof,” someone said. Mumbles erupted around the table.

Werner shook his head. “Patience. There will be no open attack. Our villagers are partaking in the harvest festivities. I don’t want innocent bloodshed. This has to stay between us. We must be stealthy.”

“But we want his scrawny neck,” Konrad said.

“And we will get it.” Werner’s voice had turned into a razor blade. “Now let us pray.”

For the first time I wanted to become a knight and follow Werner von Hanstein.

Wine and food demanded their price. I struggled to pay attention to the discussion, but Werner’s face drifted in and out of focus. Bero was worse. Oblivious to the world, he’d slumped sideways and rested his head against my shoulder.

Without warning, Werner jumped up. In quick succession he dealt orders to his men. When the festival began later today, they were supposed to mingle among the villagers and the patrons of the
Klausenhof.
After dark, when the revelers were drunk, Werner would join them in hopes they’d learn where exactly Lady Clara had her room and how many guards the beadle had with him. Only then would they strike.

“Will you join my men, Max Nerds?” Werner’s eyes focused on me.

I nodded though I hadn’t listened well. I felt sleepy from the wine and they spoke fast, their dialect still strange. It took all my concentration to follow along. “Yes, My Lord. What about Juliana?”

“We expect Miranda will not miss the festivities, especially the feast at the
Klausenhof.
Juliana will be with her at which time we will find a way to take her away.”

I had more questions. What about the rat? Ott looked positively dangerous and out of control. He’d welcome an attack, at least from me. And Juliana could neither move quickly nor far with her injured leg. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.

“I’ll stay close and wait outside.”

“Why wouldn’t you visit the tavern?” Werner ignored his knights who scattered to grab harnesses, swords and assorted knives. They all seemed tough and capable and not at all affected by the wine.

I glanced at Bero who’d opened his eyes but seemed far away.
“I don’t have money to buy food or drink.”

A curious look slid across Werner’s face. “You’re a ruler’s son and you journeyed here without reserves?”

“I left in a hurry,” I said. I knew I sounded meek, but I could hardly explain that Euros were not an accepted currency in this place, wherever or whenever it was. Here was the sticky question again where I’d come from. I thought of lying, inventing a story being mugged, but the blue eyes seemed to look right through me. And somehow I didn’t want to lie to this man. Werner had already gotten up and was talking to one of his squires, his son Christian, I had met during my first visit. Moments later, the boy returned.

“This is a small token. Consider it imbursement for your brave deeds today. Do not worry yourself. We’ll bring your maiden to safety.” Werner handed me a leather pouch, which jingled quietly. Bero had found his way to my side, his eyes glued to the purse.

I opened it and extracted a handful of coins. Some were gold, some silver in different sizes. They looked handmade with crude engravings—nothing like Euros. Bero gasped.

I had no clue what I held in my hand, but it rendered Bero speechless. At least for a moment.

“Thank you, My Lord,” I said and bowed. Now I’d be able to buy another pair of pants and shoes. And I’d take care of Bero and his family. “We’ll join your men at the Klausenhof and meet after dark near the old oak.”

Werner stretched and yawned. “Go easy on the drink, lads. It’ll be a late night. We must remain sharp.” He turned and waved at one of the maids, a pretty girl with chestnut hair and a sumptuous chest. Together they headed toward a back door, the knight a possessive hand on the girl’s shoulder. To my surprise she didn’t seem to mind. To the contrary, she smiled at him, her eyes full of admiration and something else. Lust.

I turned. I’d read enough about the Middle Ages to know that
knights led a rather loose sex life. Girls seemed to like powerful men and Werner was one of the most commanding characters I had ever met. Amazing what Jimmy’s father had dreamed up.

“Let’s go,” I said. Bero stared at a silver coin in his hand he’d taken from the purse.

“We’re prosperous,” Bero said, looking up as if he were dreaming. “
You
are prosperous.”

I shrugged. “It’s ours. I just need a jacket and some other shoes.” Maybe it was part of the game that I had to get money.

“What’s a jacket?”

“A new robe,” I said, but Bero wasn’t listening. He was still twisting the coin in his fingers, then biting on it.

“
Mutter
won’t believe me. She’ll say I stole it.”

“Let’s be careful and not show anyone. How much is that one you hold in your hand?”

“One
Silber Mark.
That’s…” Bero lifted his head and started to count, but after five he got confused and started over. I remembered the leeks at the market piled in sets of five. “I don’t know. I can’t count that far. It’s a lot of Heller. I could buy up the entire bread supply with that.”

“We better find smaller coins or we’ll draw too much attention. The innkeeper will think we stole them, too.” I reopened the bag and emptied it on the table. Most of the coins were silver Marks, along with three gold Gulden and an assortment of smaller coins.

“These are
Pfennige.
”

“Will that buy us dinner?”

Bero nodded. “More than one evening’s worth.”

“Then we each take two
Pfennig
coins and hide the rest. Let’s head to your house and wash up for the festival.”

“Wash up?”

“Bero, have you ever thought about your skin being dirty and itchy?”

Bero shrugged. “So?”

“It’s unhealthy. You get sick.”

Bero frowned and then shook his head.

“You can stay filthy, but I’m going to wash.” I didn’t mention that I wanted to look my best when I saw Juliana again. I thought of her doe eyes and my insides began to vibrate. I’d freeze my butt off any day before I’d run around covered in muck.

“How do you know you get sick?” Bero said as we headed downhill toward the village. “Maybe you get ill from washing.”

“Impossible.” I kept going. Maybe Juliana was already at the Klausenhof with Miranda. I’d find a way to get close to her. “You just have to trust me. I know a lot more about that than you. Dirty skin is gross.”

“Where do you get the water? We don’t have a bathhouse in the village. I heard there’s one in
Heiligenstadt,
but that’s hours away.”

“River.”

“Nay, it’s freezing,” Bero hooted. “You’ll drown yourself.”

“I swim, you jerk. Don’t you ever want to meet a girl?”

“She wouldn’t care.” And after a pause. “So you’re in love with Juliana. The Lord caught you.” Bero giggled.

I felt my cheeks get hot. Juliana didn’t know and brother Bero might give me away or worse, make snide comments about my washing habit before I would have a chance to talk to her. Suddenly I felt angry again. “You keep your mouth shut.”

“The loving lad is bad-tempered.” Bero was overcome by another giggling fit.

“Shut up.”

As Bero’s hut came into view, we fell silent. The cottages along the way had all been decorated. Men and women, children and assorted household animals hung around their front yards and porches. Some had adorned themselves with necklaces made from grasses and dried berries. Others had stuck flowers into their hair. They all looked excited, their eyes flashing and their worn hands gesturing. Most wore their everyday clothes, plain
gray and beige linen frocks topped with brown and black
gugels,
a type of hood that covered their shoulders. For many it was probably the only outfit they owned.

I thought of my purse. By the sounds of it, I could’ve outfitted the entire village. I had to think about what was best, make the coins last and improve the lives of Bero’s family.

“What a joyous time,” Bero’s mother said when we entered. She was fixing cabbage soup and had returned early in time for the celebration. A loaf of rye bread sat on the table. Adela filled our mugs with watery beer.