by Tracy Falbe
“The will of God sets my course, Duke Thurzo. I trust that you shall prepare men to accompany me at your soonest convenience,” Miguel said.
His bossy tone irked the Duke, but he supposed that the Archbishop had infected the monk with the blessings of authority. Leaving him to his business was the easiest way of coping with the irritation.
“My resources have and always will be at the disposal of Christendom,” Thurzo declared. He extended a hand toward the door. “You may see yourself out, Brother Miguel.”
The Jesuit bowed and thanked the Duke for his time.
******
Night fell over the palace, and Thurzo watched servants light the braziers in the courtyard below his balcony. From his private wing, he could see men and women gathering in the hall on the other side of the courtyard. All the doors were thrown open and glittering candelabras gilded the rosy interior where the musicians tuned their instruments. Friends of Duchess Agatha and her ladies in waiting mingled with courtiers and visitors.
The Duke rarely joined his wife at her social affairs. The mostly trivial intrigues of her guests did not warrant his attention. If anyone revealed anything of import, then his wife would tell him.
He swirled his goblet of red wine and took a deep breath of the chilly evening air. Dry and sunny days had allowed the warmth of summer to linger during the day, but at night the frosty harbinger of winter flirted with the land as seriously as courtiers flirted with maids at the party.
The musicians started playing, and people clapped. Thurzo drank more wine and leaned on the balcony railing to listen. The Venetians blended a charming sound from the lute, zink, and harp. The singer’s nimble fingers danced effortlessly, like fairies around a spring, but it was his fine voice that truly beguiled his audience. Even the demands of governance slipped from Thurzo’s mind for a bit as the graceful tenor sang of love and adventure.
When Brother Miguel and his three Jesuit companions interrupted the performance, Thurzo shared in the displeasure of his wife’s guests. The Duke heard everyone moan unhappily. He observed the Duchess demanding an explanation for the intrusion, but she gave into whatever it was that Miguel demanded.
The Jesuit took aside each musician one by one. Even at a distance, Thurzo noted the discomfort of his players. But the body language of Brother Miguel showed no satisfaction either.
Eventually, the Jesuits left the hall. The musicians resumed their performance. If they had been shaken by the brief interrogation, their playing did not suffer for it.
Thurzo retreated to his study. He set his wine goblet on the fireplace mantle and then roused the flames with a poker. He doubted Brother Miguel had learned anything useful from the musicians. As far as Thurzo could tell, loyalty defined those close to Thal. None of the imperial warrants for the werewolf had presented any information based on betrayals or confessions. He wondered how such a beast could invite such devotion. What charm did this notorious werewolf possess that made others hide him? Even Thurzo had done his part to spirit Thal out of Zilina because of his obligations to Sarputeen.
But Thurzo had not met with Thal during the fugitive’s brief stay. He had purposefully avoided it so that he could honestly deny seeing the man.
Regret now condemned his resistance to curiosity. He understood that the Church named the Devil as the source of Thal’s power, but Thurzo pondered the reality of that power more than its source.
A bell sounded at his palace gate. Someone important must have arrived, and Thurzo went back to the balcony to finish his wine. When his manservant tapped at the door, he was not surprised.
“Sir Krengar requests an audience, my Duke,” the manservant said.
“Show him in at once,” Thurzo said. He glanced into the courtyard, checking the shadows to make sure no one lurked near his balcony. He shut the door as a precaution anyway.
With the music blocked from without, he listened to the light jingle of Sir Krengar’s spurs as the man approached.
Krengar bowed deeply upon entering. His head was bare because he had handed off his helmet to a squire on his way inside. His chin length locks of brown hair curled slightly and his short beard was neatly trimmed despite being in the field for days. The fire glinted off his armor.
“Have you urgent news?” Thurzo asked.
“Mmmm,” Krengar stalled, and his frown showed dissatisfaction. “I’ve found no sign of the ensorcelled one in the service of Tekax.”
“Pray that we never see any sign of that one again if we are to believe what we were told,” Thurzo said.
“But I have something to report. The one called Emil contacted me,” Krengar said.
“So soon?” Thurzo murmured, surprised that Sarputeen had already sent his man with a new message. Thurzo had barely had any time to react to the first request.
Krengar continued, “I thought it unwise to grant him entry to your palace. I bid him wait north of the city. I thought that you might see him if we went falconing at your vineyard estate.”
“Excellent idea,” Thurzo praised. The prospect of an outing before the outright inclemency of winter pleased him. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
“Very good, my Duke,” Krengar said.
Thurzo cleared his throat, which the knight knew was a signal that his next statement would be sensitive. “Have you made any progress collecting the payment to Sarputeen?”
“I’ve contacted the jail and the master of a mining crew. I told them to only send fit volunteers, no one old or infirm. I’ll have their responses soon.”
“I suspect the message born by Emil concerns this,” Thurzo said.
“I thought the same,” Krengar agreed.
“A Jesuit from Prague came to visit me today. He intends to go to Vlkbohveza in search of Thal,” Thurzo said. He smiled when Krengar’s eyes widened.
“I told him I would grant him an escort,” Thurzo added.
“My Duke…” Krengar said on the verge of complaining.
“I know,” Thurzo said and held up a hand. “Prepare men. They need only take the Jesuits there, but tell my men not to enter the castle.”
“They will hardly need to be told,” Krengar remarked.
“It remains good to be thorough in the guidance of underlings,” Thurzo said.
“Truly, my Duke.”
“Any more to report?”
“Nay.”
“Then perhaps you might wish to join Duchess Agatha’s party. Our people like seeing you,” Thurzo said.
The champion enjoyed the adulation of Zilina, especially young women dazzled by his strong build and reputation. “The folk still grumble about my absence at the harvest joust this season. Perhaps my appearance would reassure them,” Krengar said.
“Tell them the Turkish menace required your attention more than our games,” Thurzo said.
“I wish only that the menace was…normal,” Krengar commented.
“Indeed,” the Duke said. “Yet we can hope that what sorcery this Tekax plots will occupy Sarputeen and not us.”
******
Emil packed up his little camp. He had been staying in a woodland awaiting the arrival of Duke Thurzo. Earlier that morning, he had observed the man and his retinue crossing a pasture beyond a vineyard. Emil had decided to let the Duke enjoy his leisure for a while before intruding, but he could tarry no longer. Sarputeen had tasked him with delivering a message.
Emil brushed dried leaves from the sheep fleece that he had slept on. Its shaggy warmth had been a blessing beneath the frosty stars. He rolled it up and tied it behind the saddle of his horse. A gust of wind clattered the bare limbs of the beech tree above him, and he hoped the weather would stay dry until he finished his errand.
He kicked dirt onto his little campfire and scattered the ash. Next he gathered leaves and sprinkled them over the spot. When he stepped back, his horse playfully nibbled his ear.
Emil laughed. “You want me to get going,” he said and patted the animal’s flank.
He rehearsed the message
Sarputeen had commanded him to recite once more before getting in the saddle. The tall youth swung onto the horse with confidence and grace. He moved out of the woodland and soon spotted a falcon wheeling high in the air. When it dove, it fell like the hammer of a judgmental god. Emil watched the dark blur plunge until trees blocked it from view. He crossed a pasture and a small woodlot that gave way to a marshy area and a big pond. Quacking ducks were settling in on the far side of the water after suffering some disturbance. Emil knew now what had been the object of the falcon’s lightning strike.
The Duke’s group clustered on the high ground. The falcon flapped back to the leather-clad hand of the falconer and a hound trotted into the group with a duck in its jaws.
Emil hoped the thrilling display of predatory power had put the Duke in a good mood. He approached slowly to give everyone a chance to see him. Sir Krengar intercepted him.
“Ride with me,” Krengar said tersely, and Emil followed him uphill away from the pond. The knight led him on a meandering route. They emerged onto a faint trail littered with fallen leaves. Emil followed at a slow pace until he spotted a lone rider through the bare trees coming up the trail.
“Have a care not to waste the Duke’s time,” Krengar said.
“I expect our meeting to be brief,” Emil said. He rode past the knight. Over his shoulder, he added, “I appreciate the care you have taken to ensure our privacy.”
Krengar narrowed his eyes, annoyed by Emil’s confidence but aware that the young man deserved some respect.
When Emil reached the Duke, he waited for the man to speak first. His cheeks were flushed from the autumn chill. The breeze had dispersed his wisps of gray and brown hair in a spray around the edge of his voluminous felt hat.
“Emil, messenger of Sarputeen,” Thurzo said.
Emil bowed his head. “You honor me by remembering my name, Duke Thurzo,” he said.
“You’re a memorable young man,” Thurzo rumbled and watched for a reaction on the messenger’s face, hoping the flattery would have some effect.
“Let’s hear it,” Thurzo said finally.
“Lord Sarputeen of Vlkbohveza bids you greetings. We have the utmost confidence that you are taking responsibility for the promised payments of your late father. Do forgive our impatience, but we must urge you to provide this final act of compensation with as much haste as possible. We shall assume full responsibility for those you send to us, and we hereby promise that no harm shall come to you or yours from their actions that shall be performed in our service.” Emil took a deep breath when he finished and presumed to look fully upon the Duke.
“That is all? Your master sends you here just to tell me to hurry up? Barely a month has passed since his request was made, and this business is no easy thing to find volunteers for, unless Sarputeen is being loose with his definition of a volunteer,” Thurzo said.
“I could not comment on that, my Duke,” Emil said.
“Is the threat from Tekax so ominous? Does this sorcerer of the Turks move against this land already?” Thurzo demanded.
Carefully Emil answered, “Lord Sarputeen wishes to act as soon as possible.”
Thurzo’s horse snorted as if to express the Duke’s disgust with vague answers. “I commend your talent for discretion when discussing the affairs of your lord, Emil. Methinks you to be a young man who could do well for himself if you were ambitious. You could move to Zilina and prove your worth among us here.”
The unexpected solicitation by a Duke surprised Emil. That a Duke should regard him so highly made him proud, but, despite his years and remote birth, naivete was not among Emil’s faults. His wits warned him that Thurzo wished only to make him a spy against his master.
“My Duke, Vlkbohveza is my home and to its lord I owe my allegiance,” he said.
Thurzo envied the purity of such loyalty. “The offer stands, Emil, if you should wish to do better for yourself some day. A Duke needs men with heads on their shoulders.”
“I’m sure my Duke has many fine men at his beck and call,” Emil said.
“I do well enough,” Thurzo said. Gathering his reins, he said, “So your Sarputeen had no threats to send? Does he fear I shall not pay?”
“Lord Sarputeen fears very little, and it is my understanding that his reputation is threat enough to your family,” Emil said.
It’s a rare lad who can speak so smoothly, Thurzo thought, still coveting the unexpected competence that had been birthed into Sarputeen’s small flock.
“And a Duke fears very little as well,” Thurzo rumbled. “Listen up, young man, for I have a message for you to take back.”
“I shall repeat it word for word, my Duke,” Emil said.
“The collection of the payment is underway. I will send it to Vlkbohveza forthwith upon one condition.” He paused to observe the shock upon Emil’s face. The young man could not conceive of imposing a condition upon Sarputeen, but Thurzo was more imaginative. He continued, “I would meet first with his son Thal. I must know his heir and see what sort of…man…he is.”
“I will tell him,” Emil said quietly.
Thurzo expected that everyone in Vlkbohveza would think it was a trap, but he was determined to take a measure of the notorious Thal for himself. Thurzo drew his horse alongside Emil and said, “I think that you should know that Jesuits requested safe passage to Vlkbohveza. They are already underway. You may want to avoid them on your way home because they are hunting Thal.”
A jumble of concerns flashed within Emil’s dark eyes but he said only, “You are generous with your information, my Duke.”
“Indeed. Now take back my message. And if Thal does not meet with me, then I shall not send what your master so keenly desires. If I am to pay my father’s debt, then let the son who shall inherit this boon come forth to ask me for it.”
Chapter 2. Hostility and Caution
Thal made love to his wife while the open shutters of their tower chamber swung in strong gusts of mountain wind. Altea arched back her head. Moonlight filled the open window and silhouetted her naked torso. The stony cold swept across their hot bodies. Thal savored the final wild moments of pleasure, and then he gathered her into his arms for final triumphant kiss. The soft bulges of her breasts pressed against his solid chest.
She melted against his overwhelming strength and pulled a glossy wolf fur over her shoulders. She drifted to sleep quickly, safe and content.
In time, he slipped away to the window. Slapping his hands against the frame, he leaned into the raw alpine elements. The sturdy walls of the castle around him might provide a haven, but he belonged to the open land where Nature was at all times tender and dangerous.
He seized the shutters but paused before pulling them shut. From the tower, he peered over a river valley. The moon highlighted the watery ribbon below. The dark bodies of virgin pines crowded the river banks and filled the slopes that ascended into stone and snow. Stars glinted like the eyes of indifferent gods. They watched from a void of the darkest sins.
Thal regarded the full moon. The soaring songs of wolf packs that he had known echoed in his memories. As always, the moon made him feel the itching desire for his magic. But he was in control, unlike other werewolves who were ruled by the lunar cycle.
His life had changed a great deal since the last full moon. When last the night had been so bright, he and his companions had been struggling in the wilds, hunted by the foul agents of Tekax. Thal moved his tongue, recalling the poison that had nearly killed him after he had tasted blood from the loathsome fext.
Despite that trial, he had reached his father and found safety. Since then he had rested, knowing that he must soon go forth and confront Tekax. Briefly he considered what his father said that he must do before they challenged the sorcerer who wanted him dead. Thal shoved that thought away. He was not ready to accept his father’s proposal.
He secured the shutters and returned to the side of his young bride. He fell into a heavy sleep.
Crowing cocks in th
e courtyard roused him. His stomach growled, and he felt the dawn warming the old stones of the castle.
Altea stirred and wrapped her arms around him. When she opened her eyes and looked into his, she smiled. “Shall we stay abed all day again?” she murmured.
“As you wish,” he said and kissed her. Their caresses were lazy as they snuggled beneath warm blankets and his heavy wolf pelt.
“We should live the rest of our days in this room,” Altea said.
“Would you make a prison of our bedchamber?” Thal said.
“No,” she admitted. “I should want to venture out eventually, but I…”
Thal guessed her heart and gently finished her sentence, “But you don’t want our happiness to end.”
Memories of many hardships stilled the winds of her joy, and sadness dissolved her smile. The terrors that Thal and she had survived were still too fresh to risk contemplating.
Reminded of his innate responsibility to protect his family, Thal hugged her. He loved the warm bulk of her body against his. She was the female that completed his masculinity. Her spirit mirrored his own. It was why their attraction to each other had been so immediate and inescapable. In the forest, he had taken mates before, but Altea was the first woman who had been his. She made him treasure his humanity.
Thal regretted the suffering that she had endured because of her love for him. He had saved her from the torture chamber but not before wretched beasts of men had left scars upon her beautiful body. He would always carry the guilt.
“Troubles come and go, Altea. Enjoy these fine days and persevere through the rest,” he advised.
“Is that wisdom from your time in the forest?” she asked, knowing that he had lived many more years upon the Earth than his handsome young face revealed.
“I suppose so,” he said. He was only coming to realize how his decades as a wolf had influenced the man that he had become. Unlike so many folk who fretted over sins of the past or judgments in the future, Thal was keenly able to focus on the present.
And so he had indulged in these leisurely days with his new wife, but the fond pleasures of young love were not all that occupied his present. An enemy with a foul servant worked against him even now as he toyed with a golden lock of Altea’s hair.
