by Cory Barclay
“That poor woman,” Sybil muttered. As her shock began wearing off, she remembered something vital. She stopped in her tracks. “We need to go back to Bedburg. My husband and my son are there.”
Georg shook his head. “I can’t condone that idea. If I know Heinrich, I know there’s going to be a manhunt unlike anything we’ve seen before. You already have a title, Beele.” He grinned, as if having such a title was something good.
“Oh? A two-time fugitive? A heretic? Succubus? Witch? Traitor? . . . What are they calling me now?”
“The Daughter of the Beast. Quite ominous, though it does sound good off the tongue.” He repeated it. “Almost makes you seem more terrible than you are,” he joked with a wink. “Just by a bit.”
“We’re going to the Lion’s Pride, my lady.” Daxton spoke for the first time. The normally cheery captain didn’t sound quite so at the moment. “We can hide away on the seas for a while, until things calm down.”
And like Georg, Daxton also kept looking over his shoulder.
“But what about Dieter and Peter? And Martin?”
“They’ll have to survive without us for a time,” Rowaine said. She ran a hand down Sybil’s shivering back. “They’ll be fine, Beele,” she added gently. “We need to keep you out of harm—”
“Shit. I hear something,” Georg said. He and Daxton stopped and turned, while Rowaine and Sybil kept walking.
At first it sounded like the breeze rustling through the trees. Then more like creatures in the brush.
Then footsteps.
“Run!” Daxton shouted, pulling his pistol. Georg drew his trusty bow and both men faced the rear while backpedaling behind the women.
“Keep running!” Georg shouted to the women. “If you hear them close by, hide in the trees!” He waved them on.
Sybil could hear faraway voices as she broke into a sprint alongside Rowaine.
“There they are!” a voice called out.
Sybil glanced back and saw armed troops running through the darkness.
Georg let loose an arrow and turned to follow Rowaine and Sybil. Then Daxton’s gun erupted and a muffled cry sounded in the distance.
Georg and Daxton continued behind the women, Georg turning every so often to launch an arrow back toward their pursuers while Daxton would reload his gun and do the same.
But the trackers were gaining, their banter growing louder.
“Get the witch!
“In the white dress!”
Realizing they couldn’t outrun their pursuers, Daxton and Georg waited until the women had rounded a bend, then hid behind trees on opposite sides of the road.
The first man to reach them got a knife in the back from Georg. A second one, seeing his mate go down, crouched on one knee, aimed, and fired just as Daxton snuck up beside him, put his gun against the man’s temple, and blew the other side of his head onto the roadway.
At the same instant, Georg heard a yelp from the women. Twisting around, he realized that the half-headless tracker Daxton had just killed had hit his mark before dying.
Rowaine was on the ground, face-first.
“Row!” Sybil cried, rushing to her friend’s aid.
Rowaine groaned, her hand reaching behind to her lower back and coming away bloody.
Sybil grabbed Rowaine’s other hand and tried to pull her along. “Get up, Row, please!”
“Keep running, dammit,” Rowaine croaked. She somehow managed to pull her pistol from her waistband, remaining prone on her stomach. Sybil reluctantly moved off to hide behind a tree.
Daxton and Georg had dispatched two more approaching guards, but a third had gotten through and was charging down the road toward Rowaine.
As the only one of his group still standing, the attacker knew his best chance of survival was to simply run for his life. But his bloodlust got the better of him. He stopped and took aim at Rowaine’s fallen body . . .
Just as Rowaine pushed off, rolled onto her back with a painful shriek and, clutching her weapon by her stomach, aimed and fired.
Before the man had a chance to get off his shot, his eyes bulged as his groin erupted in a red, thick cloud and he crumbled to the ground screaming. Georg rushed up to him and finished him off with a quick slice across the throat.
With all five hunters dead, Georg resheathed his knife, then scooped up his daughter and rushed on, carrying her like a baby.
“I told you—Rowaine Donnelly will never die!” Daxton cried out, running past Georg to take the lead. “Keep moving, come on! More bastards will be right behind!”
They fled down the road, Rowaine groaning in her father’s arms, the four of them—the father, the daughter, the witch, and the captain—heading northwest toward the water, the Lion’s Pride, and freedom.
EPILOGUE
A week later in Bedburg, Dieter watched from a window in Claus’ inn as a parade marched by. He was on his back in bed, nestling his left arm—or what was left of it. Amputated at the elbow, it was rolled in a thick cushion of white bandage.
In his other arm he held his child. He kissed the boy’s head.
Word had spread quickly through Bedburg of Sybil Griswold’s “death.” Dying at the stake in Trier, a proclaimed witch and traitor to the Holy Roman Empire.
Dieter’s eyes were bloodshot from weeping. As he kept watch of the activities out his window, his heart suddenly tensed and his face blanched white.
There, in front of a large retinue of followers, rode Heinrich Franz. Perched on his horse like a hero, receiving a king’s welcome.
Dieter breathed in sharply.
“What’s wrong, Dieter?” Martin asked, sitting near Dieter’s bed, holding Ava’s hand. Ever since Ava had tried to steal from Sybil, the two had become close. When Karstan was jailed, Martin had followed Ava to her hideaway and had managed to convince her to join him and his friends, promising to eventually help her get out of Bedburg.
So far, he hadn’t fulfilled that part of the bargain.
When Dieter didn’t answer, Martin touched the priest’s good arm. “I don’t believe the rumors, and you shouldn’t either,” he said. “I won’t believe Sybil is dead until I see her body for myself.”
Dieter looked away from the window. “There won’t be a body. She was burned alive, Martin.”
“Have faith, sir,” Ava said softly.
“Yes, Dieter,” Martin said, squeezing his shoulder. “It should come as second nature to you. If there was ever a time for faith . . . it is now.”
Which is exactly what Dieter did; was all he could do; was all he knew how to do.
Keep the faith that his God wouldn’t fail him—that his beloved wife was still alive.
Somewhere, somehow, some way.
Heinrich Franz met with Archbishop Ernst and Bishop Balthasar Schreib in Bedburg Castle. He brought Tomas Reiner and Hugo Griswold with him. As the witch-hunts and trials in Trier started to lose favor with the peasants, an exorbitant tax had been levied to continue in earnest the examinations, investigations, and eliminations of witches throughout the countryside.
But with that tax, the bloodthirsty zeal of the people began to wither.
Following this last debacle—with Sybil Griswold and the old hag who had taken her place—Archbishop Schönenberg had had enough.
And Heinrich had left Trier shortly after.
At the steps of his castle lobby, Archbishop Ernst embraced Heinrich, then held the investigator out at arm’s-length, staring into his gray eyes. “You did a wonderful job in Trier, my friend.”
Heinrich smiled wryly. “Lord Inquisitor Adalbert did a wonderful job, my lord.”
Ernst chuckled. “Of course, of course.” He winked. “What a wily fellow he was. Especially about a certain trial in particular.”
Heinrich furrowed his brow, unsure of the archbishop’s meaning.
“Odela Grendel,” Balthasar Schreib explained, his chins wobbling as he beamed. “How did you do it?”
Heinrich’s heart fluttered. “W-what do
you mean?”
“We’ve been searching for that woman for ages, Herr Franz. You had to know,” Ernst said. He leaned his head and rubbed his chin. “She was a major benefactor to the Protestants—one of their longest-lasting spies. Giving secrets to Gebhard and Calvinists across the land!”
“We never knew she was hiding right under our noses, in Bedburg . . . as a kitchen-maid, no less!” Balthasar added, resting his hands around his belly and laughing.
“Oh, yes . . . yes of course,” Heinrich said, trying to keep his wits about him.
“Trying her as a witch and a traitor? And with such a public execution? Brilliant!” Ernst patted Heinrich on the back. “Let’s see the Protestants rebound from that!”
“Merely doing as you ordered, my lord.” Heinrich bowed.
Ernst spread his arms wide. “I’ve given you land and wealth for the terrific work you did here in Bedburg, so what else can I offer you?”
“I don’t seek reward, my lord. I do this for the goodness of Catholicism,” Heinrich lied.
Ernst waved that off. “Nonsense.” His eyes darkened, and he shared a look with Bishop Schreib. “I do believe there’s a vacant position in town.”
Heinrich opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t want a new job. He hated staying in one place for too long. He had wolves to raise, mouths to feed, an estate to look after.
How is old man Rolf doing, anyway? That old bastard will be happy to learn Odela is dead.
“Heinrich? What say you?” Ernst asked the investigator pointedly.
“I . . . I suppose that would be fine, my lord.”
“Excuse me?” Ernst said flatly.
Heinrich hesitated, then bowed low. “It would be an honor, Your Grace.”
Archbishop Ernst clapped his hands and put them on Heinrich’s shoulders. “Would you like an alias again?”
The investigator paused. “I think not. My name will be fine,” he said.
“Very well,” Ernst said with a smile. “Then let me be the first to welcome you back home, Lord Heinrich Franz of Bedburg.
“It does have a nice ring to it . . . does it not?”
Fact Versus Fiction
Like Devil in the Countryside, this novel is based on true events in Germany between 1581 and 1593.
The Trier Witch Trials was perhaps the biggest series of witch trials in European history, and the largest mass executions in Europe during peace time. 368 people, the vast majority women, were confirmed killed, though others say the number exceeded 1,000. In two villages, the entire female population was exterminated save one female per village.
Everyone who was not real in the first book was also not real in this one. Rowaine and her entire crew (and ship) were made up. Same with Mia and Dolly, all of Hugo’s friends—including his gang of thieves and the group of inquisitors traveling to Trier. Same with Odela, Rolf, and Heinrich’s estate (House Charmagne).
The “Elizabeth’s Strangers” in Norfolk was a real group of Protestants who fled to England to escape Catholic persecution. The individual Strangers in the novel, however, were fictionalized.
The suffragan bishop of Trier, Peter Binsfeld, was a real person and one of the prominent witch-hunters of his time. He also wrote about the “Classifications of Demons” in 1589.
A very real Archbishop Schönenberg was the prince-elector/archbishop of Trier during the witch trials, though I did take literary license about his possible association with Archbishop Ernst of Cologne.
Despite my literary liberties, I thought the Trier Witch Trials was a fascinating subject, and it just so happened to fit into the time period as a sequel to Devil, so I ran with it. I'm not sure what tragic historical event(s) will provide the backdrop for Book Three, but I’m sure I’ll find one!
Thanks for reading!
About the Author
Cory Barclay lives in San Diego, California. He enjoys learning about serial killers, people burning, mass executions, and hopes the FBI doesn’t one day look through his Google search history.
When he’s not writing stories he’s probably playing guitar, composing music, hanging with friends, or researching strange things to write about.
Subscribe to CoryBarclay.com for news on specials and upcoming releases!
Table of Contents
PART I
CHAPTER ONE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER TWO - SYBIL
CHAPTER THREE - HUGO
CHAPTER FOUR - GUSTAV
CHAPTER FIVE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER SIX - SYBIL
CHAPTER SEVEN - HUGO
CHAPTER EIGHT - GUSTAV
CHAPTER NINE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER TEN - SYBIL
CHAPTER ELEVEN - HUGO
CHAPTER TWELVE - GUSTAV
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - ROWAINE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - SYBIL
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - HUGO
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - GUSTAV
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - ROWAINE
PART II
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - SYBIL
CHAPTER NINETEEN - HUGO
CHAPTER TWENTY - GUSTAV
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - SYBIL
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - HUGO
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - GUSTAV
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - SYBIL
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - HUGO
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - GUSTAV
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER THIRTY - SYBIL
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - HUGO
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - GUSTAV
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - SYBIL
PART III
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - HUGO
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - GUSTAV
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - ROWAINE
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - SYBIL
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - HUGO
CHAPTER FORTY - GUSTAV
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - ROWAINE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - SYBIL
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - HUGO
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - GUSTAV
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
Fact Versus Fiction
About the Author
