Iron Butterflies

by Andre Norton

  At night we started on the last lap of our journey out of Hesse-Dohna. I found myself uneasy, listening to every sound out of the growing dusk. It was as if some shadow now hung over us, darkening the night even more, as a storm cloud could move quickly to blot out friendly and encouraging stars. Our days of travel—had they been far too easy, bringing us now to a trap? I could not think of why I should have these irrational fears growing now—

  Kristopher took the lead. He showed a certain confidence which suggested that he knew more of the smuggler trails than he had earlier admitted, though, once we had entered a small wood, he slowed pace and would stop now and then, a shadow among other shad- ows, looking about him, as if for some landmark.

  We went on foot, leading the two horses on which we loaded the gear we had collected little by little, blankets, cooking pans, changes of coarse clothing. In the night we donned dark cloaks, in spite of the warmth, which hooded us well against being sighted, though the forest way was certainly not a highway and I could not believe that there was anyone within miles.

  There was one bad place ahead against which Kristopher had already warned us. The boundary here was a stream which must be forded, and that ford was not only known to most of the countryside but was also in the wide open. There was a full moon tonight, though here beneath the trees its beams did not catch us. Thus the fording place would be very visible.

  Were we indeed the smugglers we patterned ourselves on, we need not have been so cautious, for those had their own spies and lookouts, their warnings. The ford was also known to the border patrol, but I had gathered from what I had overheard of the conversation between Kristopher and the Colonel that there were also profitable arrangements to be made between the soldiers and those using this way secretly. The trouble remained that, for us, it might not be so—and if the patrol was out, we had no such understanding that we were to be considered invisible.

  We came at last into a fringe of trees in which we stood for a long moment or two looking at the water silvered by the moon, the land beyond. Pursuit could even follow us here over such a border, since no one would know nor listen to our protests that we had been captured when legally out of Hesse-Dohna.

  The land ahead was very peaceful. I heard the cry of a night bird, the constant murmur of the running water. The Colonel made a swift gesture and Kristopher melted away to the right. I guessed he had been sent to reconnoiter. Truda was very close to me, now her hand found mine, and her fingers closed tightly about my own. I could even hear her hurried breathing. Did she also share the burden of apprehension which had been growing ever stronger for me during the last steps of our journey here? I believed at that moment she did.

  This was too easy! Somehow I knew that. There was something ahead wrong and foreboding. Yet all lay before us peaceful and untroubled. I heard a slight rustle and was startled into a movement. But it was only Kristopher appearing once more out of nowhere.

  “It is clear.” His whisper reached us.

  Still the Colonel lingered. I could see the white blur of his face, well bearded now. He was still surveying the way ahead. Finally he nodded and moved out. I saw that he not only wore that sword he had found in the ruined house bare bladed in his belt, its hilt ready to his hand, but he had also the knife we had brought out of Wallenstein.

  He stepped aside to bring up the rear, Kristopher leading, we women with the horse ropes in our hands between. Now we did hurry, our steps becoming a trot, while the horses snorted and complained as we jerked impatiently at their leads. I felt very much exposed, very helpless during those moments.

  Kristopher waded straightway into the water. Without stopping to kilt up our full skirts or shed our foot gear, we splashed after him. There was firm enough footing, in spite of the pull of the current. It felt as if someone had laid pavement there under the surface—a water-hidden road. The water washed as high as our knees, and our soaked clothing was a weight we had to fight, but we came out on the other side, unchallenged, though I had half expected to be with every step I took. My fear appeared to be shared by all the company, for we did not stop to wring the water from us, or empty our thick shoes and boots of the load they now carried. Instead we quickened pace even more, the horses now lumbering along.

  There was an inn not too far ahead which Kristopher knew of—one where they did not ask questions of travelers out of the night, if such could pay their way. This was to be our goal. There was even a rough track which led from the ford in the direction of this dubious shelter. That we followed now as trees met once more over our heads.

  Then there was the wink of a lantern through the night. Kristopher spoke in a low voice:

  “That is the Groshawk—”

  The inn! I was so thankful to see that spark of glass-protected flame that I could have cried aloud. We had made it! Perhaps we would never be free of some part of apprehension until we were safe on board the ship I had held ever in my mind as the goal to keep me going. However, we were now in Hanover and so out of the immediate reach of those who wanted us.

  In the dark the inn was a mere black bulk of a building, crouching close to the ground. That lantern which might have been a signal of sorts to attract its less legal trade, the only light we could see. All was very quiet and again the Colonel waved us to a halt. For the first time Kristopher questioned his authority.

  “It is always so, sir. They appear closed. In fact those who use the road we have come do not even enter the main building. We shelter in the stable to the left. There is a man there—to be sure that he gets an accounting—but for the rest, they do not see, so they can never speak.”

  Still the very darkness of the place brought back once more my own fears. What Kristopher said made sense. However, his argument did not lessen my uneasiness. Neither did I think that the Colonel was too pleased. Finally he shook his head—

  “I do not like it. There is something here—I say we go on.”

  “Where?” Kristopher demanded. I think that he felt the Colonel's choice a reflection on his judgment.

  “What do you know of the neighborhood?” The Colonel countered with another question. “Who is the nearest landowner?”

  “The Gräf von Mannichen, sir. He has come many times to my lather's place when the hunts are on. For the hunts there is no border.” It was Truda who answered.

  “Von Mannichen!” He was plainly surprised. “Then that is it! Our answer! We need only reach him—How far to his manor?” He asked with a new eagerness.

  “Perhaps a half league, sir. But the Gräf—”

  “I know him—I have hunted with him—he was a good friend to my father! We can get all the help we need from him!”

  “Up.” The Colonel turned and pulled at the pack on the back of the horse I had been leading. “Drop all this. You mount, also, Kristopher, take Truda up with you. I shall take my lady. We have but to ride your half league and sleep thereafter in good beds—this again is good fortune!”

  Only he spoke too soon. For, even as we had thrown aside all our gear and were mounted, the inn behind us suddenly showed life. There was a glaze of light as a large door was flung open, and men came pounding out.

  “Ride!” I heard the shouted order of the Colonel and felt the horse under us respond sluggishly to his urging. My hands were tight on his belt as we headed on into the night, hearing sounds which could only be that of a chase beginning behind us.

  Chapter 20

  “Turn off at the woods track!” I heard the Colonel's second order even over the shouting from behind us and the heavy thud of the horses’ hooves on the track we followed. Why those from the inn had not already mounted and been after us, catching up with ease, I could not understand. It was as if some carefully set ambush had been spoiled, and those lying in wait did not think clearly nor quickly beyond their now-ruined plan.

  We were in woods again, a thick growth, and the track we followed took a looping turn to avoid an outcropping of rocks. Sounds of pursuit came at last and I heard the crack of
a shot, though what that had been aimed at, since we were now out of sight of those behind, I did not know. Yet my heart jumped and I felt sick. They were armed, doubtless well armed, and we had no defense against bullets, nor could we hope to outride them, mounted as we were on these clumsy farm horses.

  “There!” The Colonel's cry came loudly. He swung our mount to the right and Kristopher followed. We were in a much more narrow way now, one flanked at its start on either side by pillars of stone surmounted by carven figures of birds, their wings half-mantled, as if they were about to take off into the sky—which I could see when the moon pierced this small clearing.

  We could not ride abreast here. The Colonel waved Kristopher ahead. “Watch,” he commanded, “for the forester's cottage—we can make that—if we have any luck at all!” There was such confidence in his voice that it almost won me to believe that there was indeed hope lying somewhere ahead of us now.

  I do not know whether our abrupt turnoff into what was plainly a private road confused our pursuers any. The way we now followed was a wandering one, with many loops and turns, brush and trees thick on either side. I thought that cloaked, in the dark (for the moon did not touch much here), and weaving in and out of the shadows as we now did, we could not present good targets; though I had no idea how skillful with weapons our followers might be.

  “Ahead—sir!”

  We did not need Kristopher's call to alert us. Again there was the gleam of a lantern, this time at a doorway which was half open, light shining out enough to show a man's outline. He put the lantern down on the ground, and had a shotgun swung up and ready as Kristopher's near-floundering mount charged close at a failing pace, our own only moments behind.

  “Stand where you are!” The order was as assured as any my companion could have given. The Colonel spun part way around, loosed my hold on his belt and dropped me to the ground, following me by slipping from his own seat a moment later.

  “Get to the house!” It was me he spoke to first, giving me such a push between my shoulders that I fell to my knees. “Kasper!” Now he hailed the man in the doorway. “It is Colonel Fenwick—Remember the broken-tusked boar?”

  That must have been a password of some importance, for the weapon no longer covered him as he stooped to pull me again to my feet.

  “What chances, sir?”

  “I do not know, except we are hunted men.”

  “On the Gräf's own land!” It was plain the forester was outraged. “We shall see to this!”

  I was so shaken by my fall that the Colonel had to half carry me to the house. Within I was dazzled by the light after our long time in the night's dark, so that it was a moment or two before I could look around. Truda had joined me on a bench, gasping for breath, and catching instantly at my hand as she dropped down beside me.

  There was a younger man by the fireplace, another shotgun in his hands. He was not much more than a boy and he was gazing at the door with startled expression. The door slammed shut and the Colonel, Kristopher, and the forester were together by it, the latter bearing his weapon across his arm.

  “The Gräf?” the forester said as he turned and with one hand dropped a stout bar across the door. “He is in London, sir. He has gone from here on with the embassy to the King—”

  I remembered then that Hanover was still part of the British Crown, as long as King William should reign. No wonder the Colonel had had ties with this Gräf—

  I saw the Colonel frown, glance now at the barred door. But the forester had apparently already perceived our dilemma, for he swung around toward the boy to bark out an order:

  “Out with you at the back, Jakob, arouse our men and light the beacon. We shall have no trespassing on my lord's land!”

  “Leave that.” The Colonel strode across the room and caught the shotgun from the boy. “We may have use for it here—”

  The man Kasper was close to middle age, a sprinkling of gray in his dark hair. He had an open face, but now a scowl made him look near as stern as the Colonel.

  “Sir!” He was indignant and angry. “They would not dare to do violence here, not in the Gräf's own hunting preserve.”

  “If they are from across the border, Kasper—they will dare,” the Colonel assured him. “They might hope to take us and be away before any help could be summoned. Once we were in their hands, what good would protests from your lord matter? They could weave a hundred tales, even punish a few underlings, but it would not free us.”

  Slowly Kasper nodded. “There is perhaps truth in that, sir. How many do we now face then? You, Jakob—” He looked around at the boy who had lingered, his attention for the gun the Colonel had wrested from him, as if he were about to snatch it back.

  “I go, Herr Kapplemann!” Go he did, into the darker part of the room where he opened a door and then closed it firmly behind him. His master crossed to drop a bar in place there also. He had not yet taken his hand from that when there came a cry:

  “Ho, there—the house!”

  Kapplemann looked questioningly at the Colonel. “Jakob is good in the woods at night, but he cannot bring in the men for a time. What shall we do?”

  “Talk,” retorted the Colonel. “Ask who they are, why they come, use such anger as you wish concerning their trespassing, keep them talking—”

  The forester wore a dubious expression. “I am not much with words, sir. But what I can do”—he shrugged—“that I shall.”

  He opened one of the shutters a fraction, choosing one which would give no view of the part of the room in which we had taken refuge.

  “Who are you? These are the lands of the Gräf. No one rides here!”

  “In the Elector's name—” began that other.

  “Elector?” Kasper interrupted him harshly. “We have no Elector here—this is Hanover and we have a king. What do you want? It is unlawful to ride thus onto my lord's land.”

  “We want those criminals who came and you now shelter—”

  Suddenly I knew that voice. Fear and anger combined brought me off the bench. I shook free from Truda's hold and went to the Colonel. He looked at me sharply and I mouthed in pantomime rather than spoke the words aloud: “Baron Konrad.” For that was a voice I would never forget, it was seared deep into my memory.

  He gave a swift nod. Then approached that quarter-open window-slit from the other side.

  “Von Werthern!” He raised his voice. “You hear me, Von Werthern! You do not deal with helpless women now!”

  There was silence from without, a silence which held so for several breaths. Then:

  “So it is you, Fenwick—you thought to steal my wife? She is there with you—” Then he made a suggestion so obscene that I felt the heat of shame—no, of righteous anger—rise along the whole of my body. The words were utterly vile, meant to be so, I realized in a moment, for the very purpose of bringing some reckless response from the Colonel which he could turn to his purpose.

  “Yes, my lady wife—do you hear that, forester? Your master can raise no objection if I regain my own wife from this seducer of flighty whores—”

  “Von Werthern—” The Colonel was still keeping away from the window crack. I knew that he suspected he might well be shot if he was seen by some one of the men who had followed Konrad here.

  “I am here—nor will I go, Fenwick. In your insolence you have far overreached yourself this time. There is no Elector to give you protection. I will have my wife! And you—you are an escaped prisoner, to be dealt with like all worthless dogs who dare growl at their betters—”

  Baiting—he was baiting, yes. But I was sure he did not understand the temper of the man whom he tried so to force into some action which would give him the advantage.

  “How many do you judge, Kasper?” The Baron might have been a spiteful breeze trying to reach us, for all that the Colonel paid attention to him now. I noted that the forester stood with his head slightly to one side, a very intent expression on his face.

  “It is difficult, sir. They have spread
out a little. I think they plan to rush us from all sides if they can. But they are not foresters.” He smiled coldly. “They thrash about in the brush like untrained hounds broke from the master's leash.”

  Kristopher approached the other two. “What guns have you?” he asked directly of the forester.

  “Mine—Jakob's.” He nodded to that in the Colonel's hand. “A fowling piece in the cupboard yonder.”

  Kristopher turned abruptly and went to the cupboard the man had indicated. A moment later he held a third weapon, turning it about in his hands. “They will not take me,” he said between set teeth and I knew what fate haunted him—the death of a deserter.

  “They will not take any of us,” Fenwick replied calmly.

  There was something hostile in the glance Kristopher gave him then.

  “How can you be so sure of that?” I noted he added no “sir” to that question this time. The Colonel's prestige seemed to have suffered a defeat as far as this follower was concerned.

  Fenwick made no answer, he did not even look around. Instead he spoke outward into the night as matter-of-factly as if he were entirely in command of the situation.

  “Von Werthern, remember Askarburg?”

  There was frozen silence. The question might have been one of those momentous ones in some old tale which hold all listeners spellbound. Then came the answer in a voice as cold and clear as Fenwick's, but lacking that edge of contempt I surely had not just fancied a part of Fenwick's tone.

  “I remember.”

  “I heard that since then, you have taken a lesson or two—” The Colonel might have been exchanging some comments upon the darkness of this night. “Do you fancy that such have improved your style?”

  Again that long moment of silence. Then, out of the dark, there came a reply, and I could not mistake the heat of rage in it.

  “You had but luck—!”

  “Was that so, Von Werthern? Luck? Was that what you claimed afterward? Oh, yes, I remember—the sun struck across your eyes at the crucial moment, was that not it?”