Werewolf Castle

by Tracy Falbe

  He took Thal aside and spoke quietly. “Keep your business far from Zilina, or I’ll hunt you and your Devil beasts down myself,” he said.

  “You’ll have no need to defend the good people from us,” Thal said.

  “Then my task here is done,” Krengar said. He motioned for the boy to get going and turned to leave, but Thal stopped him with a hand to the arm. The meaty biceps of the knight was firm beneath Thal’s fingers.

  With a friendly advisory tone, Thal said, “Sir Krengar, I suggest you review the details of my crimes before you threaten me again.”

  Krengar jerked his arm away but made no more parting comments.

  Thal shut the door against the snowy cold and opened one of the bags. To his new companions he said, “We must eat well and then leave. Tonight, we camp in the forest.”

  Chapter 8. Bound by Our Knowledge

  Thal’s new companions ate greedily before they set out. Krengar had not kept them fed well nor had anyone else in their recent history. The tough dried strips of meat and crusty bread seemed to revive them somewhat, even the visibly depleted Johan, and they wrapped wool blankets around their shoulders and followed Thal across the fields.

  The snow continued to fall but held back from becoming a howling storm. The accumulation covered their tracks and erased their connection to their former lives.

  Thal glanced back at them often, perhaps surprised that they continued to follow him. Many would consider the deal that they had accepted to be a foul fate. Thal assumed that they did not know what he and his father intended for them.

  Directly behind him, Harvath trudged through the deepening snow. Despite his lean condition, he seemed to have a deep well of vitality.

  The others, however, straggled as the day wore on. They were well into the woods now, and the ground was uneven and difficult to judge beneath the snow. Their tripping and slipping increased.

  Thal adjusted his pace and tried to find a path less arduous as he passed through wild strips between villages and farmstead. He was certain that his followers felt quite lost by now. This trackless journey might keep them from running off, but he doubted that any of them had any safe place to go.

  When Johan dropped out of his sight among the trees, Thal told the others to rest while he went back. He found Johan sitting on a fallen log, shivering in his blanket.

  He looked up fearfully. Thal saw the man glance at his pistols and then look down with miserable resignation as if he expected that Thal would put him down like an injured horse.

  Thal took off his own heavy cloak and spread it around the man’s shoulders. He met Johan’s eyes. This simple act of support moved him deeply.

  “I know this is hard. The journey to our castle will take us three days, but I promise you a warm bed and good food once we arrive,” Thal said.

  “I…I’d like that,” Johan said.

  Thal put an arm across his back and helped him back to his feet. “Lean on me,” he said.

  Johan slumped against him, but he kept his feet moving. When they reached the others, they had gotten into the supplies and were eating again. Thal could not begrudge them food and let them take another meal.

  Through the rest of the day, he kept Johan on his feet. Harvath and Mitri plodded along with their heads down, content to continue as long as they could put distance between themselves and their problems. Lenki, because of her shorter legs, began to fall behind. Ansel offered to help her, but she refused his hand. Trust was not something that came easily to her.

  Thal began to scan the forest for a good place to camp. A shelter would need to be built along with a fire before nightfall.

  Needing to scout ahead, he shifted Johan into Harvath’s care. The men knew each other and seemed to be on good terms.

  Thal found an outcropping of stone that would suit their needs. He went to the side protected from the wind. Pistol sniffed in the snow and jumped and dove after unseen little creatures. Thal also inspected the fluffy snow around the rock. He located an area filled in with dead leaves. He kicked them aside and scraped the area mostly clear of snow and debris. He had a space about big enough for his group to gather in by the time Harvath, Johan, and Mitri arrived.

  “I’ll need some help,” Thal said brightly. He drew his falchion, and the others cringed with alarm.

  Realizing that he had frightened them, he lowered the blade. “I’ll cut saplings while you gather firewood,” he said to reassure them.

  As he selected saplings from nearby and hacked into them at sharp angles with his falchion, he reflected on what an abused lot he had obtained. He hoped to nurture their loyalty with kindness.

  Swinging his thick blade into young wood vented his turmoil. He had hopes for his pack but also many fears. He had been a leader among his wild kin, but taking men into battle would be another thing.

  And one was a woman.

  He had not considered that possibility. In ways that he had not expected, Lenki added to his misgivings about his undertaking.

  He gathered saplings and a supply of pine boughs. He unloaded his supplies in several trips. His breath steamed in the deepening cold of the dusk. Everyone had reached the outcropping by now, and they watched in silent awe as he continued to exert himself after a grueling hike.

  When he began to arrange the poles alongside the rock wall, Mitri stepped in to help. He seemed to have an aptitude for building an improvised shelter, and Thal gladly let him take the lead.

  The framework of a lean-to took shape, and Thal bade Johan to sit inside to judge the shelter’s size. Graciously, Johan accepted the assignment, knowing that it was a charitable way of excusing him from labor.

  The others pitched in with the weaving in of the pine boughs to make a wall. They left a little vent near the top for smoke and ducked inside with their firewood.

  Thal had a tinder bundle with a flint and steel striker ready, and he was soon nursing a tiny flame. Mitri assisted again. He blocked the draft with his thick torso and expertly added twigs of increasing size to the growing flame. Thal felt comfortable with the man already, judging that he was a useful and practical sort of fellow.

  Exhaustion made companions of them all. The others packed into the small space, drained from their day of travel and all their travails before that. Even Lenki, who could not hide her nervousness in such close quarters with men, still took a place in the tight circle around the fire.

  Once the fire was going, Thal started melting snow in a cup for them to pass around and drink. Smoke stung their eyes, but the warmth was welcome. They tore into their rations again, and Thal chose not to urge them toward frugality. Perhaps they needed a full belly tonight more than a full ration two days hence.

  He let their quiet stupor following their meal linger a while before speaking.

  “You’ve come far today on a difficult trail,” he praised. “Today marks a new beginning for you. Although you have volunteered to serve Sarputeen, in truth you’ve volunteered to serve each other. You must learn to take care of each other and work together.

  “Because I gather that all of you have been condemned for crimes, let us tell each other what they were. Let us then be bound by our knowledge of each other.

  “I will begin,” he said and then proceeded to detail his deeds since his mother’s final spell had pulled him back into the world of men.

  His many mistakes and escapes flooded his mind. He thought of Andreli, the poor gypsy that he had gotten shot. He did not even know if the man had survived. He dearly hoped so.

  Instead of confessing the minutia of his history, he chose to share that which was circulated on imperial warrants that luridly described his deeds. Thal told them of the men that he killed in Prague, including the Magistrate and the Jesuit leader. He mentioned also the bounty hunters that had died since that bloody night in Prague.

  “Sarputeen is my father, and he has given me refuge from my enemies,” he concluded.

  A digestive silence consumed his companions. Across the fire, they s
tared at him with awe, disbelief, fear, and fascination. The moaning wind through the trees warned them not to flee into the night.

  Thal looked back at them expectantly. Finally, Mitri cleared his throat. “I’m a thief,” he offered in a tone tinged with embarrassment because his crime was such a paltry thing compared to Thal’s savage story.

  “What did you steal?” Thal asked conversationally, glad that someone had spoken.

  “Oh,” Mitri puffed and looked to the dark smoky roof of their crude shelter. “Food, beer, boots, anything I needed or thought I could sell on the street. I enjoyed my sinner’s ways, I’ll admit it. So much easier than doing an honest man’s labor although I certainly have the back for it,” he said and shrugged his meaty shoulders.

  Lifting his hands, Mitri continued, “Would you think that these bear paws were suited to the slipping off of gentleman’s purses and the picking of locks?” He chuckled, unable to be ashamed of his artful skills, but then he hung his head. “My foolish arse was caught soon enough. To the mines they said for me.” He shuddered. “I can’t bear the thought of being put down some dark hole.”

  Harvath nodded grimly. “Truly, some men cannot endure it.”

  “Do they not chop off the hands of thieves?” Ansel wondered.

  Mitri shook his head. “Not anymore, lad. Too much of a waste when there’s digging to be done for metals. They give us to the miners now as their slaves.”

  “That was my fate,” Harvath added. “I’ve been in the mine close to a year now. I killed a man, and the court sent me there. The miners had me to send first into new holes. My task was to build braces and haul out rubble. God in Heaven only knows how I did not get buried in a cave-in like so many others.”

  “Tell me about the man you killed,” Thal prompted.

  The scar across Harvath’s lean and weary face told of many punishments, but his lingering rage broke through and was not wholly diminished by the prices paid for his crime.

  “He owed me money for cattle sold. I needed what was due me to get married, but that wicked son-of-a-bitch only paid me half and expected me to like it. I settled up with him,” Harvath growled, unrepentant.

  “Greed is the worst sin,” Johan murmured.

  “Are you calling me greedy?” Harvath demanded.

  “Nay, friend,” Johan said and set a slender hand on Harvath’s arm. “The other man’s greed drove you to murder. See how destructive it is?”

  Harvath grumbled incoherently. Johan always had some philosophical angle that went beyond his simple reckoning.

  After a cough, Johan said, “I was sent to the same mine as Harvath about two months ago although it seems already an eternity in Hell. I would not be alive if not for Harvath, whose strength has been my salvation. He’s a good man.”

  The compliment caused Harvath to furrow his brows, but he accepted the praise without protest.

  “And what crime sent you to the mine?” Thal asked.

  “Crime? What one man calls a crime another calls his duty,” Johan said.

  “Yes,” Thal said, agreeing utterly. “Do not think when I say crime that I mean you are guilty. I ask only that we tell each other what labels the world has put on us.”

  “Well, if you mean what words have been written out and attached to me, then much ink has been used to detail my crimes,” Johan said and pushed a lock of dirty blonde hair out of his red-nosed faced. “I was condemned for distributing Lutheran Bibles. People crave their own dialogue with our Great God and his loving Son, but the Roman Church would forever keep our souls on a short leash. I had been bringing the Bibles to Zilina and Pressburg for five years. When my colleagues and I began to set the type to print the world of God in the local language, then the hammer came down. I was caught but would not betray my fellows. They threatened torture, and somehow I prepared myself to face it, but then I was simply sent to the mine. At first I thought God had intervened to spare me, but I learned soon that I had been sent to the bleakest death by labor.”

  “Men are needed in the mines more than broken in some torturer’s chamber,” Harvath interjected.

  “Now, I’m here,” Johan said and let his face fall into his hands. “I’ve struck a bargain with the Devil. Never could I have imagined myself to be so broken and weak.”

  The quivering remains of the man’s faith prodded the man’s despair, and Thal felt keenly his miserable emotions. He did not resent that Johan associated him with the Devil. How else was he to imagine him and Sarputeen?

  After considering his words carefully, knowing that a man of Johan’s intellect might respond to reasoned argument, Thal said, “Some of us are destined to know of higher truths than most folk. Do not think me of the Devil. I am only different, unfettered by narrow conceptions of flesh and spirit. In the service of Sarputeen, you shall have a chance to fight righteous battles. We have an enemy whose deeds are unnatural and lead only to woe and want among good people. I will tell you more of this later, but, for now, Johan, know that I will not lead your soul into darkness.”

  All who heard his words contemplated them with confusion, curiosity, and undeniable foreboding. Johan made no reply, but his thoughts became greatly occupied by Thal’s hint at higher truths.

  Turning to Ansel, who sat by him, Thal said, “Your turn. What claim did justice make upon you?”

  The young man’s eyes shimmered with the emotion of a freshly broken heart. Then, with fear, his blue eyes circled the faces of his new companions lit by firelight.

  “I cannot tell,” he whispered and shook his head.

  “I shan’t judge you,” Thal said.

  “Yes, you will.”

  “How could one who has spilled blood like me look down upon you?” Thal asked.

  Ansel heaved a sigh. “You’ll cast me out. I know it,” he insisted.

  “Krengar said you were to be executed. Did you kill someone?” Thal said.

  Ansel shook his head.

  “Witchcraft?” Thal pressed.

  “No…”

  “Tell me,” Thal said, deciding to be firm.

  The timbre of his powerful voice was hard to ignore, and Ansel gave in. “Sodomy,” he whispered, unable to look at anyone.

  “What is that?” Thal asked.

  Ansel’s head sunk farther.

  Mitri leaned close to Thal and told him that it was when men joined with men as if they were women.”

  “Oh…I did not know the word for it,” Thal said. He had noticed such goings on but not given them any thought. “Nor did I know that was a crime,” he added.

  Rallying his spirit, Ansel glanced shyly upon the group and said, “I was not guilty of what the court ruled.”

  “Many are falsely accused,” Thal said sympathetically, thinking of the lies that had caused his poor wife’s suffering.

  “And me most viciously,” Ansel said. His soft voice revealed great pain that clamored for release now that he sensed his surroundings might grant him some safety and acceptance.

  “Tell us,” Thal urged softly.

  Ansel nodded. Despite his shame and fear, he accepted that Thal might be right about them being bound by their knowledge of each other. He would tell them all, and, if these strangers accepted him, he would call it good, perhaps even fortunate.

  “My master, Lord Penrenke, he said I attacked a stable boy. It wasn’t true. I would never do that,” Ansel said.

  “What grudge did he hold against you?” Thal said.

  Ansel seemed helpless to answer. “I do not know what deed I committed to lose his favor. You see…he…took me into his household when I was fourteen. I served him closely. He expected me to…comfort him. He had a wife and children, but such things were not to his taste.

  “He treated me well. Never was he cruel. He gave me a good life. We rode horses, hunted, enjoyed theater. He educated me in music and writing. I worshipped him. I thought he would love me forever, but then he brought in a new boy. He wanted me no more. He said I had gotten too tall.”

 
; Ansel’s voice broke on the last words as he struggled to hold back tears. Thal set a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Rejection based upon one’s true nature that could not be altered was a difficult pain to bear. Thal knew that well.

  Although Ansel’s story made the other men uncomfortable, they could not dodge sympathy entirely. The way that Thal treated Ansel gave them a new example to consider and reinforced their hope of a new life for themselves.

  Silently, Lenki had watched their stories unfold. She cringed against the scratchy pine boughs that held back the snow, knowing that she would be expected next to speak.

  Her breath froze in her chest when Thal’s eyes inevitably looked to her. The firelight made the colors in his eyes glitter. Never had she looked into a man’s eyes and seen what she saw in him.

  “Lenki, tell us about how you came to be a murderess,” he said.

  She looked away, wishing that she could disappear into the darkness. She did not wish to tell her story to him or any of these men.

  Ansel said, “You killed somebody?” His genuine shock offered a good distraction from his distress.

  “I don’t wish to speak of it,” Lenki said.

  “I said what happened to me,” Ansel shot back. After revealing his shame, he had no patience for someone wanting to keep secrets.

  “We all have spoken,” Thal said.

  The authority in his voice slammed against her inner defiance.

  When Ansel admonished her again to speak, her resistance folded.

  Everyone waited while she gathered her thoughts. The tense fidgeting of her fingers contrasted with the hard set of her face that showed no remorse.

  “I was a maid in a noble household in Zilina. The master’s son started forcing me to bed him when I was sixteen. There was nothing I could do. No one cared. I complained to his mother, begged her for mercy. All she did was make me drink some nasty potion to keep a child from quickening in my belly. She told me her son needed to vent his natural needs, and I was to accept my place.

  “This went on for a year. Everyone shunned me. Called me a whore. Like I had any choice in the matter!” By now her fists were clenched, and her audience waited to hear the harsh details of how she had killed.