Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (15 page)

3.

By the evening of the third day, Marie was glad to see the church towers of Rheinsobern rising up from out of the mist. Turning off onto the small road that led to Hiltrud’s house, the driver and escorts were visibly surprised that a lady of rank asked to stop in front of a farm rather than going to the castle. However, a generous meal from Hiltrud’s kitchen soon showed them that farmers knew how to live well, too.

“Your ham is better than what’s on the count palatine’s table,” one of the horsemen told Hiltrud’s husband. “And the wine’s just as good,” one of his comrades added with a regretful glance at his empty cup. Grinning, Thomas placed the
half-full
jug in front of the man so he could help himself.

“Are you yeomen?” one of the men wanted to know. When Thomas nodded proudly, the soldier sighed. He couldn’t help thinking of his father, a peasant serf who rarely managed to provide enough food for his large family no matter how hard he worked, because his lord claimed most of his cattle and grain and made him labor at the castle along with the other serfs and their children. He counted himself lucky, because the lord had taken him on as a soldier and later given him to the count palatine. Now he received decent clothes, sufficient food, and the occasional penny, which never stayed in his purse for long. He could have done worse, he told himself, such as a soldier in Bohemia, where the kaiser had been at war for years without achieving anything.

While their escort enjoyed their meal, Marie, Hulda, her maid, and Hiltrud sat in the warm living room. “I really need your special potion,” Hulda urged her hostess. “Lady Marie told me the most miraculous things about it.”

Hiltrud shot Marie a questioning look, because it wasn’t like her to praise her herb brews to strangers, but the gentle, serene smile on her friend’s face told her that Marie was up to something. Hiltrud would have liked to know what was afoot, preferring to make up her own mind whether to give her potion to this disagreeable woman. Marie’s expectant face, however, didn’t leave her any other choice but to agree.

“I will give you a bottle of the brew—as a gift from God, of course, because everything still lies in the hands of heaven and the Holy Virgin.”

By her relieved reaction, it seemed as if Lady Hulda had just been shown the way to eternal happiness, and she grasped Hiltrud’s hands in her own. “As soon as I have given birth to a son, I will reward you handsomely.”

Marie had to hide her amusement, almost certain that Hiltrud would be waiting forever for this reward, and she quickly steered the talk to
more-general
subjects. Hiltrud hardly took part in the conversation, having little in common with a noblewoman. Hulda didn’t notice, however, because she prattled on endlessly, her maid filling in whenever she took a breath. Hulda’s voice was dripping with pride and
self-acclaim
, and Marie thought mischievously that Hiltrud was now getting a taste of what she’d had to endure over the past few days.

To their great relief, Lady Hulda left for the castle the next morning. As she climbed into the carriage, she waved graciously to Marie and Hiltrud, while her maid clung tightly to the package containing the bottle upon which the lady’s hopes for a son rested. The driver clicked his tongue and cracked the whip above the horses’ ears, and the carriage began to move as the men of the escort fell in line behind the wagon.

Hiltrud watched the procession for a while, then turned to Marie and put her hands on her hips. “You’ve got some explaining to do!”

“I will, but inside where it’s warm.” Laughing, Marie took her friend by the elbow and led her into the house. Pouring two cups of spiced wine, Hiltrud placed one in front of Marie and sipped on the other. Since Marie didn’t say anything but merely giggled to herself, Hiltrud poked her with a finger.

“Out with it! Why were you so keen on giving my potion to that arrogant cow?”

“Hulda is the wife of Falko von Hettenheim, who went to Bohemia in Michel’s group.”

Hiltrud sat up. “You mean the fellow who tried to get a little too close to you?”

Marie exhaled sharply. “A little too close is putting it mildly! He tried to molest me in my own house!”

Hiltrud lifted her hands placatingly. “But luckily you got away before he could do any harm, and now he’s waging war on the Bohemian border, so you won’t see him again any time soon. That doesn’t explain why you want to help his wife, of all people, to have children.”

“The good man doesn’t have a son, but he has five daughters already,” Marie said with a mischievous grin, “so I thought we should help him have a few more.”

Confused, Hiltrud shook her head, then burst out laughing. “So that’s how you want to take revenge on the man.”

Marie nodded cheerfully. “Falko von Hettenheim despises his wife from what I’ve heard from comments at court, but he has to pay her nightly visits in his wish for an heir. As long as she takes your potion, he’ll be hoping for a boy for nine months and then be bitterly disappointed.”

“But it’s not impossible that his wife will conceive a son, so don’t be too annoyed if your plan fails. But there must be some other reason you’re so vengeful.”

“All summer long I’ve had to listen to how noble, brave, and wise Sir Falko is supposed to be, but in my view he’s a dishonorable scoundrel who is responsible for Michel’s disappearance.”

Hiltrud wrinkled her nose. “You still believe Michel is alive?”

“Of course I do!” Marie replied fiercely, pressing her hand to her heart. “I can feel it in here! Plus, I’ve heard several reports about the skirmish Michel supposedly died in, but no two of them say the same thing. In the Palatinate, everyone believes Falko von Hettenheim’s version. But I spoke to a Frankish knight a few months ago, and he told me that Falko von Hettenheim was just one of many knights in Heribald von Seibelstorff’s group, and definitely not the bravest or most credible among them. The man also knew Michel and had nothing but praise for him.”

Not wanting to speak more of Falko or his wife, Marie suddenly turned to a topic that had been darkening her mind like a black shroud ever since she’d left Heidelberg.

“The count palatine wants me to marry again!”

Hiltrud shrugged. “That was foreseeable. Pretty—and especially wealthy—widows of rank are very much in demand, and the noble lords would do anything to marry them off to one of their followers. I’m sure there is a better selection at the count’s court than at Lady Kunigunde’s in Rheinsobern.”

Marie made a face as she considered various ways to escape the threatened marriage, when an idea ripened in her mind in the cozy warmth of Hiltrud’s kitchen. “I won’t return to the count palatine’s court and wait to be dragged to the altar like a calf to the slaughter, but instead I’ll go directly to the kaiser. There must be men in his entourage who knew Michel and can help me.”

At first Hiltrud thought it was a good idea, but then she changed her mind and emphatically shook her head. “You shouldn’t do that. If you had powerful, influential relatives to protect you, you might get through to Sigismund. But as things stand, you’ll catch the eye of every unwed lord at every castle you stay at with your beauty and wealth, and most of them won’t have any scruples about forcing you to marry them. Even if you did manage to get to the kaiser unscathed, you still wouldn’t be safe. Do you really believe he’s better than the count palatine? He’ll also want to marry you off as fast as he can to one of his followers, thereby rewarding his man at no cost to himself.”

That was an unusually long speech for Hiltrud, and she hoped to have talked some sense into Marie. But her friend only sniffed a little and waved dismissively. “I don’t have to travel as a noblewoman, because I’m not asking for the kaiser’s protection—I’m looking for my husband.”

“Who is long dead and gone. Why don’t you put that idea out of your mind, child?” After a lengthy, fruitless discussion, Hiltrud was glad when Mariele finally brought little Trudi in to be nursed. She could tell that Marie was hatching some sort of crazy plan and wouldn’t listen to reason.

4.

The days came and went uneventfully as autumn’s colorful display ended, and soon the trees stretched their bare branches like pleading hands into the winter sky. Biting winds from the east scoured the land, and snow covered the high peaks of the Black Forest. Marie sat by an open window, gazing into the distance, indifferent to the cold. The night before, Michel had come to her in a dream more clearly than ever, and now she wondered whether they wouldn’t have been better off not rising so far above their social station.

She would have had far more freedom as the wife of a hardworking craftsman or merchant than what was customarily granted to ladies of rank. Unmarried noble daughters were usually traded like goods to seal alliances and strengthen their families, and wealthy widows were considered wards of their lords, who used them for their own interests. Women who lost their husbands rarely remained alone for long, but were married to one of their guardian’s favorites as soon as the year of mourning was over, without consideration for the women’s wishes. The only way out of an unwanted marriage for these unhappy creatures was to gain the favor of a
high-ranking
church official, with whose help they could retreat to a nunnery.

But Marie had no desire to acquire a new husband nor to spend the rest of her life as a nun, as she told Hiltrud in no uncertain terms.

Hiltrud rolled her eyes. “You can’t resist the count palatine’s will forever! I’m surprised he’s been so patient this long. Other lords would have dragged you to the chapel long ago despite your protests and married you off to whoever was in favor.”

“But I’m already married to Michel!” Marie replied fiercely, again wondering where he might be. Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn’t hear Hiltrud give voice to what had been plaguing her for a long time.

“If Michel is still alive, then why isn’t he coming back to you?”

Closing the window, Marie turned to face her friend. “I don’t know, but there must be a good reason, and I will find out what it is. Some of Michel’s foot soldiers may still be alive and able to give me information about him.” Marie clenched her teeth until her cheeks turned white. Not a single one of Michel’s hundred men had returned home so far, and Marie was convinced that at least one of them would be able to tell her what happened to Michel. “I’ll only accept my fate when I stand at Michel’s grave.”

“Of course, being the gentle and obedient creature you are,” Hiltrud scoffed. “Besides, even if the kaiser is holding court in Nuremberg, you can’t just pick up and go there!”

“Of course I can.”

“Before you’re even halfway there, the count palatine’s horsemen will catch you, bring you back, and marry you off to whomever Lord Ludwig has chosen for you.” Hiltrud felt like shaking Marie until she came to her senses, but she knew from many years’ experience that it was impossible to talk her friend out of her absurd ideas.

Her fears were confirmed, as Marie smiled calmly. “If the count doesn’t know where I’m going, he can’t send his men after me. I can’t travel as a noblewoman, of course.”

“Then as what? Except for the wives and female relatives of the nobility, who are protected by bodyguards, the only women allowed near the troops are prostitutes and itinerant merchants.”

“Exactly! That’s how I’m going to travel.”

“As a prostitute? No,” said Hiltrud, jumping to her feet in outrage, “there’s no way I’m letting you do that!”

Marie drew Hiltrud close to her, trying to be reassuring. “Of course not as a prostitute, silly. I’ll go as an itinerant merchant. That kind of woman travels the whole country, and no count cares where such women come from or where they’re going.”

“ ‘That kind of woman’—that’s exactly what I would call them. Most of them are former prostitutes who came into some money and could afford a horse and cart. But they still spread their legs for any man who can pay their price.”

Noting the tense expression on Marie’s face, Hiltrud realized she wouldn’t let anyone stop her from carrying out her plan. Leaving Marie, Hiltrud went to her husband to discuss the issue with him. But when she suggested informing the count palatine of Marie’s plans so he could save her friend from destroying herself, Thomas adamantly shook his head.

“You shouldn’t force Lady Marie to do something she doesn’t want to, and, most of all, you shouldn’t betray her. She is determined to look for Michel, and to be honest, I understand her. Let her go!” Thomas took her hands and smiled lovingly.

Hiltrud sighed deeply. “But there are plenty of scoundrels who don’t pay any attention when a merchant woman says no.”

“Marie has to deal with that danger herself. We can only help her prepare for the trip as well as possible.”

Something in Thomas’s eyes told Hiltrud that her husband knew more about the situation already than he cared to admit. After some prodding, he told her that Marie had already asked him to help her buy a wagon and two suitable draft animals. “The kaiser is demanding more soldiers, and troops are gathering at Wimpfen. Marie should manage to get there unharmed.”

“I’m worried about her and don’t like that you are helping her with this,” Hiltrud snapped at her husband before returning to Marie. “This is insane! Think of your child. Do you want her to grow up without her mother when she’s already lost her father?”

Marie lowered her head. Hiltrud snorted in annoyance and called her a fool, but she didn’t receive a reply. In the following days, Hiltrud made her disapproval apparent, using every possible opportunity to try and change her friend’s mind. But Marie didn’t relent, and after she returned from a visit to Hedwig and Ischi with a bale of bright red cloth to make herself a skirt, Hiltrud knew she had no other choice but to help her with trip arrangements.

Just before Christmas, Hiltrud happened across Marie sewing colorful clothes for Trudi shortly after the little girl’s first birthday, and she gave Marie a startled look. “Don’t tell me you want to take your daughter with you?”

“Want to? I have to!” Marie replied sadly. “If I leave Trudi behind, either Lady Kunigunde or the count palatine will take her from you and let her be raised by someone else. I could never bear it. Also, if it turns out Michel really is dead, I’d have no way of getting my daughter back. They’d just laugh in my face.”

Hiltrud couldn’t deny her reasoning. As her father’s heir, little Trudi was just as much a pawn in the nobles’ game as her mother. Hiltrud worried, thinking about both of them being in potential danger, and she wished that winter would never end. But Christmas flew by, as did New Year’s, and a few days later a traveling priest wrote the letters
C+M+B
, the Epiphany blessing, on their door frame, to be rewarded with a large ham and a jug of wine.

Toward the end of January, when the weather was at its coldest, Thomas left the farm, wearing heavy traveling clothes. He told neither the children nor his servants where he was going, but Hiltrud and Marie knew he went to search for a suitable cart for Marie in a nearby town. Away for a week, when he returned, he winked at the two women. “I was lucky!” he said with a laugh. “As soon as it gets warmer, we’ll pick up three cows from the Rudis farm near Sternberg. The farmer had to sell them cheaply because his hay rotted last fall.”

Though Hiltrud nodded eagerly, and though Marie was initially confused, she soon realized that he wanted to conceal the real purpose of his trip from nosy people. It was in his interest, too, that no one found out how much he and Hiltrud had to do with Marie’s disappearance. Gratefully smiling at Thomas, she picked up her little girl. Trudi had grown and thrived, tirelessly exploring the world on her solid little legs. Marie’s hair would have already turned gray if Mariele and Mechthild weren’t always there to help keep an eye on her little bundle of energy.

Before long, frost gave way to the first warm days. On one such early spring afternoon, Marie and Hiltrud were sitting together in a small corner alcove that Thomas had built for his wife. Hiltrud’s feet were tucked into sheepskin slippers, and blankets she had woven by hand were wrapped around her shoulders. As Hiltrud stirred a pot of her spiced wine, she gazed out a small window she had opened for the first time in weeks and sighed. “It’s not long until Easter.”

Marie knew what her friend was trying to say. Her perilous journey would start on Palm Sunday, when she would pretend to leave on a pilgrimage with Hiltrud and Thomas, and now that the day she had been longing for all winter was finally drawing near, she didn’t feel nearly as brave as before. Indeed, she almost hoped Hiltrud would ask her not to go, because her fear of what might happen to her and her daughter far away from home was growing steadily. But at this point, her friend hadn’t merely accepted her plan; she supported it, too.

Hiltrud looked at her expectantly. “Do you have everything you want to take?”

Marie nodded. “Trudi and I are ready.”

“I’ll miss our little rascal,” Hiltrud said sadly. “And who will look out for your possessions while you’re away? Thomas is a good farmer, but we are not skilled in managing large estates like yours.”

“Don’t underestimate your abilities,” Marie scolded her. “You will look after my four tenant farms and my vineyards, while Wilmar will take care of my properties in town and the money I have invested in
long-distance
traders. I’m sure you and Thomas will get along well with him.”

“We’ll be fine.” Hiltrud returned Marie’s smile though she felt anything but cheerful. “Let’s just hope that no messenger from the count palatine shows up before Palm Sunday, calling you back to court or—even worse—to your own wedding.” She spoke only half in jest, because in her heart, that was exactly what Hiltrud hoped might happen.

But Palm Sunday morning arrived without any word from the count, and Marie breathed a sigh of relief, pushing aside the doubts that had been weighing on her mind. She preferred to take responsibility for her own actions instead of being pulled back and forth at the whim of powerful lords like a pawn in a chess game.