by Andre Norton
He was back just as I had done, in his hands a wooden ladle, the wood half rotted away, but still sturdy enough to hold a measure of water. I drank feverishly, though the taste was strong of the dead wood which held it. He saw the bundle I had made of my torn clothing and nodded approvingly.
“That we must hide. I do not know if they will bring out hounds—”
His words shook me. The thought of being hunted through this cursed and desolate countryside like some despairing and frightened animal struck home. He must have read that sudden flare of terror in my face, for he smiled and held out his hand to me.
“There are tricks to that, my lady. A few I know well. Also—let us go!”
Outside the hut I found that the day had come fully upon us. However, there was no sun. Instead the sky was darkly overcast, with clouds piling over the heights, hanging heavily over the sullen and forbidding walls of Wallenstein which was now well above us, for the hut was not too far from the cliff on which the castle had been built.
I had only a glimpse of that prison, for the Colonel urged me into a screen of brush. We reached a dead tree, which still stood, a fire-blackened trunk showing a hole within some distance up. My companion picked up a nearby branch and with the aid of this thrust the bundle of discarded rags well into the hole.
“There is a stream—this way.” He came back to me and again put his arm about my shoulders, taking some of the weight from my bruised feet, though I tried as well as I could to manage by myself. We did come to the stream and I waded in as he did, guessing that the water should hide our trail should they indeed bring out hounds to hunt us down.
The dire promise of the clouds was soon fulfilled as rain began; the dead trees and new saplings bordering the narrow ribbon of the brook not furnishing any cover, so that water soaked us from above even as it arose about our feet and legs. I had been miserable in that cell, but never so lacking in comfort of body as I now was when I slipped and slid over the stony bed, my wet cloak dragging down on my body. It might have been a relief to complain aloud, but that I would not do, my pride was strong enough to keep me going in silence.
Our first bit of luck was stumbling upon what must have once been a farm, though fire and disaster had struck here. There were berry bushes laden with fruit which had somehow escaped the general fate, and I crammed their sweet yet tart goodness into my mouth with both hands. The Colonel left me sitting on a tumbled wall and went to poke about in the blackened space between the walls of what had once been a large dwelling.
He came back swinging his arm over his head in triumph and I saw that what he carried was a sword, dull, with spots of rust along the blade. The axe from the hut he had hitched to his belt, but that was a poor weapon compared to his present find. It appeared to me that there was a new confidence in his step now that he held a useful tool of his own calling.
“Fortune would seem to favor us.” He made passes through the air with his discovery. “Why this should remain and not be in some looter's hand—”
“So you have a sword—” I feared that that sum of dismal feelings which I had choked down all morning during our rain-buffeted journey now came to the fore. “But where do we go—and what can we do?”
He dropped down on the tumbled stones next to me. “There is this,” he said slowly, “I know something of this country, not much, but enough to perhaps take us out to the north. We held maneuvers on the edge there two years ago. There is a road, hardly more than a forest track—but still a road. Beyond that lie some scattered farms. We shall be out of their country where the Von Zreibrukens rule, and so need not fear so much trying to find some aid. Hesse-Dohna is now in a state of uneasiness. The new Elector has not established a firm control. Those at court will be busy playing their games to establish themselves in his favor. I do not think that the commandant of Wallenstein will be too quick to report our escape—though he will busy himself to recapture us.”
“Do you have any friends, any who will aid?” I asked bluntly.
He shrugged. “It might be better to believe that my circle of friends has shrunk to acquaintances who may no longer find it politic to acknowledge any closeness past the polite civility of the civilized—” He did not sound bitter, only mocking. “However, as that may be, it would now be wise to move on.”
At least we were no longer wading through the stream. The wrappings about my feet were soaking and the rain soon made the rest of me as sodden. That he did what he could to lighten the journey for me I did not question. Beyond the ruins of the farm there was indeed a road of sorts which we followed. Here the brush had grown out over its one-time boundaries, while thick grass spouted between the old ruts.
I would not let myself lag, though my legs ached, and then seemed to go slowly numb. Once or twice I stumbled, so that he put out a quick hand to support me. How far we had come from Wallenstein, even in what direction we now headed, I could not have said.
Suddenly my companion pulled me to a halt. I wavered and frankly clung to him, since my balance was now so insecure. I stared about but could see nothing to alarm. The Colonel's head was up, I saw his nostrils expand as if he drew in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was low, hardly above a whisper:
“Do you smell it?”
Smell? It seemed to me that my senses as this day had worn on had become so deadened I was perhaps able to see, even hear but little. What was there to smell—the rain?—some heavy odor given off by the ravaged land about us? Some ancient foulness? For I could only couple evil with this deserted country.
“Wood smoke—” he explained. “Come—” His strength both supported and compelled me off the ancient track, into the bushes, where the moisture shook off the leaves to add a further burden of damp to my cloak. “Stay here!”
With no more than that order he pushed me into leafy hiding and slipped away himself with an ease which I would have thought more born of the training of a forester than that of a court-based officer. I remained where I was, my head up, sniffing hard, until I, too, caught the scent which had alerted him.
But who could or would build a fire in a rain swept wasteland? Had we near blundered on another forester's hut, this one perhaps occupied? I sighed and rubbed my grimy hands over my cloth-wrapped feet, trying to ease away some of the chill numbness which cramped my toes. It was summer, yes, but this day felt more like the beginning of autumn. I longed so for a hot drink, even a cup of the lukewarm chocolate which had been so distasteful in Axelburg, for a bed on which I could just stretch out and never have to move again.
Then I cowered closer into the enveloping brush, looked about me for a weapon, any weapon—There was a moss-encrusted stone within arm's reach. I tore that free of the mold and gripped it fiercely as I listened to a rustling in the brush which had certainly not been caused by any wind.
The figure moving toward me, of whom I could only catch glimpses now and then unless I moved, which I dared not, wore a cloak much like my own, save that that of this stranger had a hood pulled up to protect the head. As the form bobbed up and down, I could see that this other was gathering firewood, branches brought down from the dead trees.
Then I caught the sound of a voice, low and sweet—singing—? A woman's singing! So strange had any normal kind of life become to me during the past days that I was as startled as if she had screeched savagely as the Indians of my own home land might have done as they came down on some settlement in a war party's raid. Was she some farmer's wife—or daughter? Had there been some one-time settler courageous enough to return, to rebuild a destroyed home in the waste?
Prudently, I did not set aside my stone. A woman here would surely not be alone. Who knew who might come at her call should she sight me? The Colonel—in spite of all his caution he could well make some slip to betray us both.
I was now a small hunted animal, crouching so close to the thick mat of decaying leaves that my body had forced the beginning of a burrow in that slimy deposit. Still she advanced, while all I could do was will, as fie
rcely as a person might pray, that she turn aside to the right or left.
Instead, she straightened up to her full height, the harvest she had garnered, held against her body with her left arm, while, with her right hand, she brushed back the hood which had fallen a little too far forward. I could clearly see her face.
See her face? No, this was some trick of mind, some chance resemblance in which I dared not believe. This could not be Truda—here in the forest she had shown such a fear of earlier! Truda, whom I was more than half sure must have also been taken into captivity because she had served me!
Now it was as if she could in some manner sense that she was being watched. For she had stopped singing, had edged back a little into the bushes herself, seeking cover. I saw her look carefully about as a fugitive might when traveling with fear.
The more I looked at her I was forced to accept the evidence of my own eyes. I was not dreaming—not in any drugged state when one can see what is not. This was certainly Truda! The stone rolled out of my hand. Feeling dizzy and weak, I reached out and pulled down the branch which had been my principal screen.
At that moment she tensed, turned swiftly as if to run. I called out, my voice hoarse with urgency and need:
“Truda!”
The wood she had gathered fell out of her hold. As swiftly as she had turned, she swung back, her eyes wide, a look of near terror on her face. Now there was no screen of leaves between us, she could see me as easily as I looked upon her. For a long moment she stared as if I were a nightmare figure. Then she sprang toward me, her hands outstretched:
“My lady—oh, my lady!”
There was no mistress, no maid as we clung together when she had knelt beside me and her arms had gone out to gather me to her. Instead she rocked me in her hold as one might comfort a child.
“Oh, my lady—you are truly here! I cannot believe it, but it is so!”
And I could only repeat her name, “Truda! Truda!” and hold to her as if she were a rock standing in a fastrunning river down which I had been swept without hope of any safety to be found.
“Truda.” At last I managed to make myself think past the first wonder of our meeting. “How did you come here?”
My question appeared to alert her again, for she glanced up and around as if she feared danger.
“Please, my lady, can you walk? It is not good for us to stay—come, let me help you!” She did not answer my question. Instead, as had the Colonel, she took command, and at that moment I was content to follow her urgency.
Somehow I got to my numb feet, tottered forward with her support, in and out among the bushes. We moved between two tall rocks which stood like the pillars marking some manor entrance, and so came into a dell in which there was a tumble of atones, standing walls, but little roof, and graceful pointed windows without any glass.
Through one of the windows trailed a wisp of smoke, while coming swiftly from the doorless opening before me was the Colonel. He strode to us and without a word swept me up in his arms, carrying me on, with Truda hurrying beside him into that place of shelter.
That determination which had kept me going since we had left the evil temple in the cliff cave drained from me as blood pumped from some deep wound. I, who had never been given to the swounds supposed so much a female answer to fatigue or fear, saw walls waver and seem to nod in toward me as I slipped down into darkness in which there was no longer need to struggle.
I awoke reluctantly, because someone was holding up my head, pressing something to my lips. There was a wonderful smell, I heard a murmur of voice which meant nothing. But I drank eagerly, without even opening my eyes, what was so offered me. It was a thick soup with such a flavor I could not believe remained in the world. As that heated liquid trickled down my throat it seemed to bring strength with it.
Now I looked up. Truda knelt by me, holding the cup to my mouth. But I was supported by someone else. And there was a third person moving beyond, but I could not make out who that might be.
“Drink, my lady, it is good. Kristopher snared a hare only this morning. And there is barley in it also to give full strength. Here, taste—” She dipped a spoon into the cup and came up with a piece of meat, which she ladled into my mouth. I found myself chewing as eagerly as I had drunk the broth.
My wits came back. I had not been dreaming—this was indeed Truda and—I managed to turn my head a little so I could look up and see it was the Colonel who held me. There was still rain falling, but not where we were—for a projection of broken roof kept us dry, allowed a small fire to burn. Now I could see that other who had stooped to feed more wood to the fire, a young man with a good face, I thought. Kristopher—yes, I had heard that name before—some place—some time.
I ate and slept again, then awoke to no more rain but sun slanting warm across me, so warmly that I moved to push aside the cloak which served as a covering. At my movement Truda appeared, to kneel beside me.
“My lady.” She touched my forehead as one seeking signs of fever might check.
“I am very well, Truda.” For indeed I was. At that moment I felt as if some great burden had fallen from my shoulders, and the lightness left in me wanted to bubble up and up. I could have sung—have shouted as does a child in some exuberance of pleasure. I moved to sit up and she was quick to support me. Only I no longer needed that.
“Truda—what happened? Where is this place? And how did you come here?” All that had been in the immediate past flooded back, but memory no longer wore with it a weight or fear and endurance.
“Let me get you food, my lady, and while you eat—then I shall talk.”
She settled me with my back against a stone wall and I looked around our refuge with a need to know how we were housed. The roof extended over about a third of the building, which was not large. A little away there was a raised portion like a small dais on which stood a massive block of stone. On the wall behind that was a cross deep carven in the surface. I guessed then that we sheltered in some chapel that had once served the people before the land had become a waste. It was a very simple place, with no other carving besides the cross itself. But the tracing of the windows was well shaped and graceful, if plain.
To one side two packs were placed, one beside the other, and there was also a pile of firewood where Truda was busy tending a small pot standing on a tripod above the flames of the fire. She filled the cup I had seen before and brought it to me with the spoon.
Again it was a soup-stew of some sort which I ate eagerly and, I fear, with greediness. For the moment the food more important than all else. Then I remembered and stopped to ask:
“The Colonel—Kristopher?”
“They go to hunt out a way for us.” There was a frown between her eyes. “We cannot stay here. They are hunting—those others.”
I resented the return of anxiety, but I knew I could not escape it.
“But you, Truda, you and Kristopher—how did you get here?”
She told me in short, bald sentences, making little of what must have been a time of terror and despair not unlike my own. The night after Konrad's visit she had found herself locked in her room. All her demands to be allowed to go to me had been refused. Then she had been told I was leaving with my “husband,” was allowed to witness the passage of a carriage which she was told contained the Baron and his bride. After that she was ordered to prepare to return to Axelburg. But her good sense warned her that if she left Kesterhof, it would not be for the capital but rather to her own death.
Before, however, such a journey could be arranged, there had come other arrivals to the lodge—soldiers with orders to confine the Gräfin and her household. Among those soldiers had been Kristopher. He was already secretly alarmed at the disappearance of the Colonel, by the many rumors within the city, and had determined not to take part in any wrong which might be intended.
“For he is a good man,” Truda told me. “He heard many things which made him fearful—for the Colonel, for me—even for himself. Those sent so
secretly could later be charged with the very evil they had been ordered to do. Then, when he saw the second carriage and you put in it—”
“Second carriage?” I was so excited by her story I forgot to eat.
“Yes—the first one—it had been just meant to deceive. The Baron was in it, yes—for I saw him. But the other carriage came the same night that Kristopher was on guard. It was not driven by anyone of the Gräfin's people, rather by a man Kristopher knew of—one who is known well to be the Princess's man—the Princess Adelaide. The Gräfin was shut in her room then, and you they brought out. Kristopher told me first he thought you were dead, but then he saw you move. There was a woman, a woman dressed like a sister, who gave the orders. They took you away so.
“Kristopher, he heard—that they took you to that place of evil—Wallenstein. He knew that you were of the Blood, our Elector's own blood, and there was danger for all of us. So that night also—or rather in the early morning—we two got away. Kristopher had to fight with one of the foresters—if they find him—” She clasped her hands so tightly together the knuckles stood sharply out—“He is now counted a deserter, my lady. They shall hang him if he is taken. But he had listened so much that he was sure that the Colonel was also in that evil place. So we waited—hoping we could find some way—We crept about in the wood—And I prayed, my lady, I prayed very, hard. As you see—the Good God heard. If in so much He has helped us—then there will be more. HE will not forget us—”
I set aside cup and spoon and put my hands over hers. “HE will not, Truda, surely HE will not!”
Chapter 19
It was dusk outside and we had put out the fire. There was still light enough so that one could look from face to face and try to read the expressions thereon as we four held a council of war in the ruined church. That we could continue here in hiding was a risk we all knew we dared no longer take. The subject of where we could go, and how, was now a matter of discussion, for the Colonel was not giving orders, he was listening to suggestions, first advanced awkwardly by Kristopher, who gradually became more assured and self-confident when he realized that his opinions did carry weight with the man he had considered to be so far above him that nothing he might think or say would matter.
