by Lorentz, Iny
A few days later, Hartmut von Treilenburg and Abbot Adalwig of Saint Ottilien’s monastery appeared in person to offer their best wishes to the knight and his wife, promising to come back for the baptism. After more than a week, Giso returned and handed his lord some documents covered in official seals, and all the lord’s worries seemed to disappear in an instant. Beaming with pride, Dietmar ordered his people to prepare a great feast and hurried to his wife’s room to deliver the good news.
Marie was free sooner than expected of her duties to the lord. After the birth of his son, the knight firmly rejected making use of the beautiful young woman, preferring instead to wait longingly for the day when his wife could again share his bed. Marie still had plenty to do, since Guda needed every available hand to prepare for both the baptismal feast and the Christmas holiday that had been postponed by the betrayal of the Bürggens and overshadowed by the birth of the heir.
Even though the baptism was still several weeks off, it didn’t initially seem that things would be ready in time. But Lady Mechthild was gaining strength every day, and after she recovered enough to leave her bed and take charge, the servants sprang back into action, laughing and joking despite the hard work. Even the soldiers pitched in, although they usually regarded servants’ work as beneath them.
January passed and Candlemas arrived. Since Brother Jodokus was still missing, the abbot of Saint Ottilien said the Mass. The abbot was a good friend of Sir Dietmar’s and a determined foe of the Keilburgs. Everyone assumed that Sir Dietmar had chosen Abbot Adalwig as his son’s godfather, but Sir Dietmar postponed the baptismal service and asked forgiveness of his guests for postponing the feast because one important guest had not yet come. But he didn’t say who that was.
Two days later, the tower watch announced the approach of a large group of men on horseback. Hartmut von Treilenburg and some of the other nobles feared a surprise attack by the Keilburgs and called their men to arms, but Sir Dietmar reassured them and ordered the gates to be opened to receive the visitors. Dressed in festive attire and protected from the frigid air by nothing but an overcoat lined with fox fur, he strode into the courtyard to greet their guests. Lady Mechthild joined him, along with a maid carrying a pitcher of warm mulled wine and some goblets for the new arrivals.
“Am I mistaken, or is that Count Eberhard von Württemberg’s coat of arms?” a soldier standing near Marie cried out in surprise.
The man was right. The banner depicted the leaping stag of the Württembergs. The horsemen were wearing sheepskin greatcoats over their capes to protect them from the cold, and their beards were encrusted in ice. The horses had been wrapped in blankets, their legs partially bandaged, and white clouds of steam puffed from their nostrils.
“Sir Dietmar must stand high in the favor of Count Eberhard if he makes the long trip here from Stuttgart in the middle of winter,” one of the guests whispered to Hartmut von Treilenburg. The latter nodded with his mouth hanging open, but he also looked a bit doubtful, as if he didn’t know yet what to think of it all.
Count Eberhard rode through the gate, stopping before the lord and lady of the castle. Two servants ran forward to help him out of his saddle, as he was almost frozen stiff despite his blanket and fur-trimmed coat. Gratefully he accepted a goblet of mulled wine from Lady Mechthild and emptied it at once.
“That tastes wonderful,” he said while the maid poured the warm drink for his companions as well. Count Eberhard knocked the rest of the snow from his coat, removed his gloves, and leaned forward to shake Dietmar’s hand.
“Best wishes on the birth of your son, Sir Arnstein. Nowadays one cannot have enough brave men.”
“I thank you for coming, Count von Württemberg.” Sir Dietmar sounded relieved, as the count treated him as an equal, apparently spared from the bitter cup of vassalage that Degenhard von Steinzell would have to swallow under Friedrich von Habsburg. Hartmut von Treilenburg’s dark face quickly brightened. He went to Count Eberhard and took his outstretched hand. “I am greatly pleased to see you, Count Eberhard.”
“I feel honored to be invited,” Eberhard replied, quickly glancing around the interior of the well-fortified castle. What he saw seemed to please him, and he patted Dietmar on the shoulder to show his approval as the servants stepped forward to help the men take off their capes and heavy winter coats.
Marie now got a better look at the visitor and guessed that Eberhard was in his midforties. Though he was tall and imposing, he had remained slender in contrast to many others his age. His face was framed by a dark blond beard speckled with gray, and his eyes sparkled with cheerfulness. His jerkin was of the black and gold colors of Württemberg, though the yellow seemed a bit faded, reminding Marie with amusement of a courtesan’s yellow ribbons. The count’s trousers were dark blue and the codpiece generously padded to suggest his noble rank.
Everything was ready for the guests in the great hall, and the maids were already bringing in warm food for the count and his men. Marie helped with the serving until Lady Mechthild beckoned her over.
“Let the maids do the work and sit here with me since I can see you’re dying of curiosity. In any case, I have a job for you.” The lady sounded happier than she had in a long time.
Marie quickly accepted, setting the bowl of pork roast that she was carrying down on the table in front of Eberhard. Untying her apron, she handed it to a maid and took the seat near the lady. Hiltrud, who was also serving the guests, looked on in astonishment.
Looking admiringly at his new seatmate, Eberhard leaned forward and tugged on her sleeve. “You’re a damned beautiful woman. By what name may I call you?”
“This is Marie,” Lady Mechthild answered for her. “She’s a courtesan and will satisfy your needs if you wish.”
Count Eberhard’s eyes flashed with desire, and Marie knew that by evening she would be lying in his bed. For a moment she was infuriated, as she didn’t expect Lady Mechthild to pass her around like a shiny plaything; then she laughed at her own naïveté. She’d been brought there as a courtesan, and why should she suddenly be treated like something else?
The count was an enemy of Konrad von Keilburg, and she knew that Lady Mechthild had arranged this pairing so that Marie could get close to Count Eberhard and relay all that she learned back to the knight and the lady. In any case, the count was certainly more affable that Philipp von Steinzell, and he didn’t share Jodokus’s repulsive odor.
She listened carefully to the conversation around the table, remembering what she knew about Count Eberhard von Württemberg. Along with Friedrich von Habsburg, who ruled over large holdings of land that spanned countries, Count Eberhard was one of the most powerful and influential noblemen in the old Duchy of Swabia, whose title had been vacant since the previous duke died. Until now, none of the noblemen in Swabia had succeeded in gaining a duke’s title or rank, which would give them power over the other noble houses. Marie wondered if Eberhard wanted this position for himself, but nothing of what she heard suggested that.
At first Eberhard and Sir Dietmar talked about ordinary things such as the unusually cold winter and the council that would begin in the fall. Count Eberhard would be attending, and he invited the lord and lady of the castle to come with him to Constance. Only later, after the maids had cleared the table, did the men get around to discussing their problems with the Keilburgs. “I hear that Count Konrad seized a castle that belongs to you,” Eberhard began.
“Indeed,” declared Sir Dietmar, and told the count about his uncle’s alleged second testament that supposedly awarded Mühringen to the Keilburgs. “Konrad took the castle in a surprise attack and refuses to recognize my claims,” he concluded with a grim expression.
Eberhard von Württemberg puffed out his cheeks. “Can’t someone ask Sir Otmar what convinced him to make up this new will?”
“Count Konrad asserts that my uncle entered a monastery, though he doesn’t know which one, or
I would have asked him long ago.” Sir Dietmar’s expression clearly indicated he considered this a lame excuse.
Supporting his bearded chin in his right arm, Eberhard fiddled with one of the ornamental silver buttons on his jerkin. “I can’t say I like the situation. In any event, I’ll present your case to the kaiser. You say you have your uncle’s document, signed and sealed before witnesses?”
“I do indeed, and in two copies,” Dietmar replied with a contented smile. He fumbled with a key on his belt while holding out his other hand to his wife, who gave him the second key. Taking another key from his belt, Giso gathered all three of the keys and left the great hall to fetch the document. Soon after, he returned, holding a leather binder in front of him.
“Here is the contract, sir. But I can’t say it smells very good.”
The lord of the castle looked up in irritation and sniffed the leather. Its odor made him cough. “There’s something wrong here,” he said, regaining his breath. Carefully opening the cover, he stared dumbfounded at the shreds of parchment inside, all of which were illegibly stained and emitted a foul stench.
Eberhard had a servant bring him a cloth to protect his hand while he picked up one of the pieces. The parchment seemed burned, and it was impossible to read a word. Shaking his head, the count handed it back to Dietmar. “It looks like Keilburg played a dirty trick on you. Someone poured acid over this and destroyed it. I’m afraid you have a spy in the castle.”
To her horror, Marie saw several people look her way. Meanwhile, Sir Dietmar stared at the leather as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then, with a curse, he flung the stinking mass on the ground and started pounding the table.
“That won’t help Keilburg. The second copy is stored safely in Saint Ottilien’s monastery, certainly beyond the reach of Count Konrad’s people.”
“No, Sir Dietmar!” Abbot Adalwig, sitting on the other side of Dietmar, cried out in shock. “You had the testament picked up a few weeks ago by Jodokus, your scribe.”
The lord of the castle stared at the abbot wide-eyed. “That’s not possible. I never . . .” Grinding his teeth, he paused. “So that’s the reason Jodokus disappeared. First he destroyed this testament with acid and then he went to get the second copy in the monastery. Oh, fool that I am! Why wasn’t I suspicious right away when that damned monk disappeared?”
Silence descended over the great hall following the knight’s outburst. People looked at one another, their faces showing fear of an enemy whose power was strong enough to destroy contracts stored behind thick walls in heavily locked chests. Some in the group crossed themselves.
Count von Württemberg felt that something had to be done to dispel people’s evident fear of the seemingly unlimited power of Konrad von Keilburg. Taking a long gulp of wine, he placed his hand on his host’s shoulder.
“Didn’t you invite us for the baptism, Sir Dietmar?” The latter nodded in surprise. “Yes, but . . .”
“No buts!” Eberhard said in a thundering voice. “We’re not going to let Count Konrad ruin this event! Lady Mechthild, bring my godson and some holy water. But no, wait . . . no holy water. That has been sullied by the traitorous monk. Speak your blessing for the child, Abbot Adalwig. That will certainly be pleasing to God.”
“Now? Here, in the hall?” the abbot asked, stunned.
“Why not?” the count replied. “Most children are not baptized in a church, but at home. Furthermore, it’s warm and comfortable here whereas the child would be cold and miserable in the chapel.”
The abbot exchanged uncertain glances with the lord and lady. Nodding in agreement, Lady Mechthild sent Guda to get the boy. She immediately understood that Eberhard wanted to dispel the threatening shadow of the Keilburgs with the sacrament of baptism, and she was so grateful to him that she resolved to have three masses said in Saint Ottilien for the salvation of his soul.
By the time Guda returned with the baby, everything was ready for the baptism. Giso and a few of his people had not only brought in the gilded crucifix from the chapel but also the heavy baptismal font that took six strong men to carry it.
Eberhard approached the housekeeper and took the boy in his arms. “A splendid child,” he said with a smile, watching as Lady Mechthild’s cheeks glowed with joy. “Speak your blessing, Venerable Abbot,” he said to Adalwig, who still didn’t quite understand what to do. Finally the old man stood up and took his place alongside the baptismal font. He hesitated a few times while trying to remember the words, but he recited the blessing without error and finally made the sign of the cross over the child with a relieved “Amen.”
“Amen,” came the resounding reply of all present.
Most of the guests thought the dinner would resume, but Eberhard raised his hand to speak.
“In view of the honor I have been afforded as godfather of this child, I wish to present my gift,” he called out in a voice that filled the room. “To strengthen the bonds between his clan and mine, I am bequeathing Thalfingen on the Neckar to my godson Grimald.” Holding the baby in his arms, he turned to gauge the impression his gift had made and smiled inwardly at the crowd’s reaction.
Mouth wide-open in shock, Sir Dietmar stared at him with gleaming eyes. It didn’t trouble him in the least that the gift made his son a vassal of the Württembergs, because this connection would protect Arnstein from any further Keilburg attacks. Count Konrad would think twice before threatening an ally and vassal of the Württembergs. Lady Mechthild also looked overcome with joy, and Abbot Adalwig sent a prayer of thanks heavenward, realizing that the mighty guest would now hold a protective hand over his friend Dietmar. Hartmut von Treilingen, who had been holding his breath, let out a huge sigh and raised his goblet to the health of the count and his godfather. He, too, would gain from the Württembergs the protection he so desperately needed.
Indeed, Eberhard’s visit had infused Arnstein Castle with hope, and the overall mood lightened. Even Marie was optimistic that Counselor Rupert would one day receive his just punishment. She briefly wondered whether she should tell Eberhard her story and ask him for help, but since her injustices had not happened in his jurisdiction, she dropped the idea at once. Count von Württemberg had no influence in Constance and could do nothing for her. It was also not very likely that the nobleman would care about a courtesan’s concerns or put any credence in her story.
Count Eberhard von Württemberg stayed at Arnstein Castle for two weeks, and many people laughed that his visit was so lengthy because an extraordinarily beautiful woman was adding spice to his nights. As a farewell gift, he tucked a handful of golden coins embossed with the leaping stag of Württemberg in Marie’s bosom, then kissed her in front of all the assembled guests. Riding out on a clear winter’s day, the count left relieved and happy guests behind.
PART FOUR
DANGEROUS TRAVELS
I.
“Won’t you even consider my offer, Marie?” Lady Mechthild sounded peeved.
Marie bit her lip and shook her head.
“I only want to help, you stubborn thing,” Lady Mechthild continued. “A marriage to one of our farmers would make you an honorable woman. I discussed it with my husband, and he is ready to give you and your offspring property in the domain of Thalfingen. Moreover, since you were born free, I will give you a signed and sealed letter that ensures that your children will likewise not be serfs.”
Heart pounding, Marie felt something within pleading for her to accept the generous offer. The prospect of being a free landowner with her own property was exactly what Anne and Elsa, her father’s two maids, had dreamed of in Constance. It wasn’t an easy life, as a farmer’s wife worked hard, and Marie knew that she would first have to learn everything that country girls had been taught since early childhood. But with the help of a loving husband, she could do it.
But if she agreed, for the rest of her life she would be bound to a piece of lan
d that she could leave only briefly when she traveled to the nearest market town or went on a pilgrimage. Her home would be far from Constance, and she would never be able to take her much-desired revenge on the counselor and his cronies. No, she couldn’t give in now and accept the gift, or she would never find peace of mind.
She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully so as not to offend Lady Mechthild. “Your offer is more than generous, but I grew up as a merchant’s daughter and have spent little time in the countryside. I could never manage a farm properly.”
Lady Mechthild laughed. “You don’t know what you are saying. Do you think you will ever again have a chance to escape the squalor of your wandering ways? To find a place where you can save your soul through a decent life pleasing to God? No, girl, once you leave here, you will end up back in the gutter where the half brother of our enemy cast you, and you will wander the roads for the rest of your days.”
Through the lady’s window, Marie could see Hiltrud in the courtyard, hitching up her reluctant goats and three kids to the little cart with Thomas’s help. For a moment, she considered asking the lady to permit Hiltrud and Thomas to marry, giving the farm to them instead, but if the lady agreed, she would have to move on by herself, and she was fearful of that. She despised herself for being selfish and for disregarding her friend’s future happiness. Fighting the tears welling up within her, Marie threw her head back.
“I realize what I’m turning down, my lady, but there is nowhere on earth that I can truly find rest.” She almost added, “As long as Rupert Splendidus is still alive,” but she held her tongue just in time. Her plans for revenge didn’t concern Lady Mechthild. Clearing her throat, she curtsied to the lady without meeting her eye.
“It is time for me to say good-bye, my lady.”
