The Book of Earth

by Marjorie B. Kellogg

  “Speak, girl. The truth serves both your lord on this earth and the One in heaven.”

  “I’m making up beds, your reverence, and I . . . I seen them coming down the hall.”

  “Who did you see, child?”

  “The captain, and my lady Erde. He was carrying her and they was laughing.”

  The priest cleared his throat again. “Carrying her . . . as in holding her against himself bodily?”

  “Um, well, yes, sir, you could call it that.”

  “And what else?”

  “Oh, nothing else, your reverence. They just passed by like they never seen me at all.”

  “But there’s nothing unusual in that, is there? I mean, in being ignored by your betters?”

  The servant girl hesitated. Erde heard some sniffling, so well-orchestrated that she would have laughed, were she not already so horrified. She could not imagine what she’d done to make this girl betray her so readily.

  “Would it be unusual?” prompted the priest.

  “No sir, I mean . . . well, yes, sir, with the captain, sir . . . I mean, after all he’s said, sir . . . well, I mean he could have given me a look, you know? Like he even knew I was there!”

  “All he’s said? Promises? Has he made promises, in return for . . . ah, favors?”

  The sniffles dissolved into loud weeping.

  “That’ll do,” the priest snapped. “Return her to her quarters.”

  The door thudded shut. In the silence, Erde heard Guillemo moving about. She could picture him, pacing deliberately, his dark face a mask of righteous concern.

  “Well, my lord baron. It appears the boy is not as innocent as you thought.”

  Wood and leather groaned as the baron heaved his bulk out of the chair. “Wake her up, then!”

  Fricca found her tongue. “My lord, how can you listen to such tales? That laundry wench is a famous flirt! She’s made eyes at every soldier in the barracks. Let the child sleep, she’s feeling so poorly . . . !”

  “Wake her up! We’ll hear it from her.”

  “Calm, my lord,” Guillemo urged, and Erde ground her teeth in rage. As if it were not he who was responsible for the baron’s intemperance! “We are only considering the possibility. The word of a servant should not carry much weight, and we have a better option. The truth can be ascertained by a simple examination, to be performed here and now in your presence, and the matter be done with.”

  “Wake her up,” the baron snarled. “Or I will!”

  “No!” Fricca wailed. “Leave the poor child alone! With you too drunk to know what truth is!”

  There was a sharp crack, Fricca’s muffled squeal, and the thud and clatter of her soft weight falling amid the metal fire tongs and the ash bucket. Erde was relieved to hear her weeping. Silence would have been more terrifying. Then the baron ripped aside the bed curtains and stood staring down at her, breathing hard. “Get up, Daughter.”

  Erde gathered the quilt around her, saw Fricca huddled on the floor in the firelight. Her father’s eyes on her were like a hunter’s. She fought to keep her voice steady. “Yes, Papa.”

  “Been listening, hah?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Well?”

  A knock at the door, Rainer’s knock. Erde could not help it. Her eyes darted toward the sound.

  “Get it,” the baron barked. Fricca had scrambled up and was already there.

  “It’s Alla, my lord.”

  Alla pushed past the half-open door. “What’s this, Josef? The girl’s not so deathly ill that you’ve need of a priest! Come, this is women’s business. Clear out now, both of you. Let me do my work.” She flashed Guillemo an unedited look of dislike and shoved at the door to swing it wide. “Bring that in, lad, and set it by the hearth.”

  Rainer hesitated in the doorway. He held a steaming crock by thick, oversized handles, and his face was soft with concern. Erde could not have known that the look passing between them would suggest so much to a man of the world like her father.

  “Bring it in, lad,” he mimicked. “Set it down.”

  “Oh, Josef,” said Alla, beckoning Rainer in. “Too much wine. What would your mother say?”

  “My mother, as you may have noticed, is no longer about to tell me what to do.”

  Alla raised an eyebrow. “So much the worse for you. Go to bed before you embarrass yourself. Where’s that crock, lad?”

  Rainer eased in, eyes tight to his burden. He set the crock down, shot his lord an empathetic glance intended to be of the sort shared between men in the midst of female matters, and turned to go. He found Brother Guillemo between himself and the door.

  “Please stay a while, Captain,” said the baron pleasantly.

  Rainer came to attention. “My lord.”

  The baron took him by the shoulder and turned him slowly to face Erde. “Now, Daughter, can you answer the good brother satisfactorily? Have you anything to tell me about what went on earlier this evening?”

  “No, Papa. Nothing went on.” But her bewilderment was disingenuous. She had overheard too much. “It’s not what you think.”

  Rainer’s eyes widened, flew to Erde, and the baron caught the glance before each looked away.

  “Not what I think, eh? What was it, then?”

  “Nothing, Papa! Nothing! I was sick, you know I was sick, and he was helping me like you asked, that’s all.” He stared at her as if she was suddenly covered in mud. Erde knew she should weep, but she was afraid, so afraid, and could not manage it.

  Alla moved past the baron, bringing Erde a cupful of hot liquid. “What is this nonsense, Josef? What poison has this priest been spilling? Don’t you know what’s happened here?”

  “Do you, Alla? Do you really know what goes on in this house? Or are you in on this, too? Am I a fool? I see the way she looks at him!” The baron glared as if Rainer’s very presence enraged him beyond bearing. His grip tightened until the young man winced. “I see it now. You’re the one she’s been meeting out in the forest!”

  “Never, my lord! Erde, tell him!”

  The baron shoved him backward and slapped him as he might a dog. “My lady, to you, boy!”

  Rainer hunched in shame. “Yes, my lord.”

  Baron Josef grabbed him again. “How long, hah? How long without my knowing?”

  “Papa, listen to me! You never listen!”

  “I told you she met no one!” Fricca yelped.

  Alla faced the baron calmly, hands on hips. “Stop this right now. Send this priest away, and we’ll settle this when you’re sober enough to think rationally.”

  “I marvel, my lord,” remarked Guillemo from the fireplace, “that your household treats you with such ill respect. Do you not honor God, woman?”

  “Shut up, priest!” The baron’s face was flushed as deep as his burgundy velvet. “Get me some help.”

  Alla laid her small hands on his arm to quiet him and to loose Rainer from his rigid grasp. He brushed her aside. “Go!” he growled over her head.

  Guillemo bowed and whispered from the room.

  “Now we’ll see . . .” He twisted Rainer away from him until the guardsman’s sword was within reach. With his free hand, he jerked it from its sheath and set the point to Rainer’s throat. “You ungrateful pup! I made you and this is how you thank me? You think I’m so gullible? Like some foolish woman you can fool me with an innocent face? I ought to gut you here and now!”

  Rainer found his strangled voice. “But what have I done?”

  “He did nothing,” said Alla. “Didn’t you hear her say he did nothing?”

  “She’s protecting her lover, old woman! Can a priest see that better than you?”

  “Papa! You’re drunk!”

  Rainer dropped to one knee at the baron’s feet. “My lord, on my life, I never . . . how could you even think . . . ?”

  “Couldn’t content yourself with the serving girls, hah? No, they’re not good enough for the son of a King’s Knight! It had to be my daughter! My precious
daughter! MINE!”

  Rainer reached out in protest. The baron recoiled. “So that’s your game! Think you can take the old man in a fight!”

  “My lord, no!” But he rose instinctively to defend himself.

  Baron Josef threw the sword aside. It nearly sliced Alla’s shin, skittering past her. The baron swung an arm back and slammed Rainer sidelong, sending him sprawling on the stone floor. Erde shoved her quilt aside and ran at her father like a lunatic, snatching at his arm, screeching at him to stop. He staggered but knocked her away and lunged after Rainer, hauling him up with one hand. As the young man stared at him in disbelief, the baron hit him full in the face, then rammed a knee into his stomach as he went down.

  “No! Oh, no!” Erde scrambled to the fallen guardsman, her bare legs scraping across the splintered boards. She fell on him to cover his head with her own body. Now the blood on her garment was his.

  “See?” roared her father, swaying above them drunkenly. “You see how she protects him?”

  “You are a madman!” Erde screamed. Rainer coughed and groaned beneath her.

  Brother Guillemo returned. Swords and white-robes filled the doorway. “My lord?”

  The baron wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pointed. “That one.”

  “Josef,” Alla begged. “Think what you’re doing! Stop this while you’re still able!”

  The baron turned slowly to glare at her. His eyes glittered like small unseeing jewels. “Go to your room, old woman, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Brother Guillemo gestured sharply. Two white-robes dragged Erde away from Rainer and tossed her like a sack of grain onto her bed. When Alla tried to go to her, another hustled the protesting midwife from the room. Two more jerked the young man to his feet. Hanging stunned and bleeding in their grasp, he looked to Erde, who could only shake her head in disbelieving horror. Then he raised his bruised eyes to meet the baron’s.

  “What did I say about being used, my lord? Look around you. I have never lied to you or abused your trust. You’ll never have a more loyal man than me.”

  The baron spat in his face. “Get him out of here.”

  Erde saw only a bearded death’s head as Brother Guillemo smiled his self-righteous smile and signaled to his men to take Rainer away. With the room emptying and no antagonist left, the baron seemed to lose focus. He looked for his wine cup, and not finding it, drank from the pitcher. Guillemo offered his own cup from the mantle, then bowed to him deeply. “You should rest, my lord. From the shock.”

  Baron Josef frowned distractedly, then merely nodded and turned toward the door, the pitcher still clutched firmly in one hand.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Erde was locked in her bedchamber. No visitors came, no one with food or water or even fuel for the fire. This will be over soon, she thought, and then when it was not over, she cried for hours, curled up in her nest of bed linens. When she had wept herself dry, she got up and paced, feeling her own rage stir like acid in the pit of her stomach.

  She hated him. She hated this so-called father who could listen to a man he’d known less than a day, over his most trusted bodyguard, over the word of his own and only daughter. How could such a thing be?

  The window rattled and the drafts howled in the ceiling vaults. The wind hurled sleet and ice against the shivering panes of glass. Winter crept into the room, and still no one came. Erde imagined her father still raging drunkenly around the castle, and the servants too frightened to come to her aid. She made tasks for herself, to ward off the cold and her sense of drifting unmoored in an alien sea. She rationed the remaining firewood. She tore up the white gown and fed the pieces to the flames. She drank the stale water in the pitcher by her washbasin. She moved her chamber pot to the farthest corner to avoid the stink.

  She understood nothing that had happened. Her father was always a dangerous drunk, but his rages had never been this violent before. Still, there was a chance it would all be over when he finally sobered up.

  The next evening, someone came at last, an older guardsman she did not recognize. He admitted Fricca with a pail of cold water and orders to make Erde presentable.

  “It’s cold!” Erde complained, “Doesn’t he think I’ve been punished enough?”

  Fricca said nothing. The guard stood by the open door and watched until Fricca insisted he turn his back. Erde was outraged. Did the man not know his place? She begged for news, for something to eat.

  Fricca shook her head, weeping as she sponged Erde’s shivering arms. “Oh, such goings on, my lady!” Her pale murmur was nearly drowned out by the splash of the water into the pail. “Your father is in a mad drunken fury like I’ve never seen! Who knows where we’d be if the Holy Brother’d not been there to soothe him and read Scripture to him and be responsible until he’s himself again.”

  The notion of Guillemo in charge made Erde shiver all the more. “My father needs a healer, not a priest. Where’s Alla?”

  Fricca laid a finger to her lips. “They’ll not let her see him, for fear she’ll enrage him further.”

  “Then what of Rainer?” Erde whispered. “How’s Rainer?”

  “Locked away, my lady. Oh, the poor foolish lad!”

  “Foolish?” Erde pulled away. “Don’t tell me now you believe these lies? You know better than that!”

  “Oh, my dearest lady-child, I know what seems, but in black times like these . . . I mean, what can we know about such things?”

  “What things?”

  “Well, the holy brother says . . .”

  “The holy brother knows nothing!” Erde yelled. But she could see he did, that he was in fact fiendishly clever, for he was keeping her father from the very people who might coax him back to sanity. What she didn’t understand was why.

  At her yell, the guard snapped around and ordered them to silence, bidding Fricca to hurry. She wept and wept, but would not speak another word.

  When she was done and had departed, still weeping, the guard took Erde to the great-hall, where her father sat on the baronial throne in near-darkness. The assembled court stood grimly silent. Erde thought they looked frightened, a bit confused. Guillemo’s robed entourage lined the walls, where Rainer’s men should have been. Torches flared here and there, and a few people carried lanterns, but the great twin hearths were still and cold, and no candles burned. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Erde understood the courtiers’ dismay. The baron, always so concerned with protocol and a pristine public image, was unshaven, slumped carelessly in his chair, and still wearing his feast robe, which a day later was badly wrinkled and wine-stained. One hand balanced a goblet on his knee. In the shadows behind the throne stood Brother Guillemo.

  Erde awaited the stern, perhaps even slightly raving lecture about her behavior, a humiliation she could probably live through. But her father did not even seem to notice her. The guard pushed her to her knees before him, and the Baron glanced unsteadily aside and raised his goblet. A white-robe hurried to fill it. Erde was hauled up and led to a stool to one side of the dais. Her guard stood near. Erde’s eyes sought the carved dragon capitals for comfort.

  Two of the white-robes dragged Rainer in. His wounds had not been washed or dressed, and his torn black tunic was gray and slick with mud. When Erde rose to her feet in shocked protest, her guard shoved her back down again. Now the court murmured covertly. She could hear a few of the women praying. Rainer could hardly stand, but he shrugged off his escort to face the throne alone, where the baron had now drawn himself up with a drunken glare of hatred. Rainer did not look Erde’s way, and she resolved to avoid even a glance, lest it harm his cause.

  Brother Guillemo stepped forward to present the charges. Rainer was not allowed to speak in his own defense. Erde tried several times and was silenced, first by Guillemo’s command, finally by the callused palm of her guard. Both were made to sit and listen while Guillemo detailed his own twisted version of the events, to listen while the sniveling laundry-maid described what she’d seen in even mo
re lurid detail, to listen while silly helpless Fricca admitted, yes, she had found the baron’s daughter weeping and distraught after the captain had left her. It wasn’t until the priest had nearly completed his case that Erde understood that only Rainer was on trial. An actual trial, no mere public scolding or wrist-slapping. Sitting rigid on her stool, Erde felt real fear creep into her heart. She noticed that the von Alte dragon tapestries, which had hung on these walls for a hundred years, had been taken down, exposing the pale cold stone. Surely if her father was sober, he would not let all this go on. She sought again the dragons in the upper shadows, but they could offer only silent comfort.

  The only voice raised on Rainer’s behalf was Alla’s, blunt and indignant, and so very sane. Guillemo heard her out without comment, did not even question her testimony, and Erde wondered why he had let her speak at all. His motive surfaced when Alla had said her piece and limped proudly from the hall. Then the priest shook his head warningly. “Satan’s wings have brushed us, oh my people. Clearly what this old witch-woman says can never be taken as truth. My lord, she must be looked into. I fear some deeper plot here.”

  Not long thereafter, Brother Guillemo asked for a verdict, and Erde heard her father slur even the few words required to condemn Rainer to death by hanging, sentence to be carried out the next morning.

  She began to scream and did not stop, even when one of Guillemo’s white-robes clamped a fist over her mouth and dragged her from the hall.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Erde knew now what caused a caged animal to go mad and gnaw at its own flesh. Mere tears were not desperate enough for such a catastrophe.

  She stood all night on the high sill of her window. She began in the chill silence of thought. After a while, thought became fantasy, and she called on the Mage-Queen to appear and carry Rainer and herself far away to safety. But the fantasy did not sustain her and the early hours of dawn found her rocking and moaning. She had determined that there was no conceivable way she could free Rainer from his cell, and so she went to work on building up the courage to fling herself onto the cobblestones sixty feet below. Maybe then the baron would set Rainer free out of remorse. In truth, her life experience thus far did not include a world in which, when the time came, her father would actually execute his favorite guardsman.