The Rift

by H Schmidt

  I watched the smile return to Elsbet’s face. This time the smile I saw was not humorous, but warm and touched with mischief. In the eight years since that day, it was that smile that always touched me the most and it was the image I carried with me in battle, whenever I found myself away from Tannenberg Castle for long periods of time.

  Although the best horsewoman in the court of our lord, Elsbet had managed to convince her noble father to this day that she was in need of riding instruction. As we grew older, and as Elsbet grew to be, at seventeen, a woman and no longer a girl, her aunt would accompany us on our rides, for it was evident to all in the castle the deep affection of Gustav von Mecklenburg for the count’s daughter.

  When I returned to the castle from campaigns, we would ride together through the meadows and forests around the castle, and, on occasion, on a sunny day, dismount and walk by the river. As we talked, under the watchful eyes of the fat Aunt Hilda, we would find some reason to turn and lightly touch the hands and arms of the other. And when they touched, our eyes would meet, holding fast for a brief moment, until one of us would shyly look away. Tomorrow, I thought. What would happen tomorrow? God, I thought, do not let it end now. Now shortly before noon, the rooms of our lord were warmed by the sun which had shone throughout the morning. The sun’s light, through arched windows covered by glass, accented the colors inside the vaulted chamber. Sitting near the east windows were Elsbet and her girlfriends, all of them engaged in the making of a quilt. I always remembered the colors in that chamber. There were bright colors; yellows, crimson, purples, blues, and greens. The chambers of our lord were in sharp contrast to our dormitories, which were drab and dreary.

  Sitting in a chair separate from the young ladies, good Aunt Hilda knitted with great intensity. As I entered the room, I watched the heavy-lidded eyes raise just enough to glance at me. The mouth of Elsbet’s aunt seldom moved up or down, and I confess I never knew whether she approved of me or she did not. I certainly never had a hint of her approval in what she said to me; but for barking orders in my direction, we seldom spoke. If humility is something we should strive to attain, good Aunt Hilda did her best to assure that I both attained and retained it.

  As was our custom, I did not glance at Elsbet, although I was aware of her, and, I hoped she of me, but went straight to Aunt Hilda to ask her permission to speak to her niece.

  ---

  I, Elsbet von Pappen, daughter of the Lord of Tannenberg Castle, was aware that Gustav had entered the room. Gustav, the handsomest of knights, had been my friend for eight years, since I first presented myself to him for riding instructions. Who could forget that first day? I was only ten and Gustav was four years older than I. He was tall and broad-shouldered and I was skinny and several of my teeth were crooked. All of the young girls talked among ourselves about Gustav. He was also the handsomest of the squires and pages and young knights. Well, everyone did not think he was the handsomest. Some thought young Wilhelm was; others thought someone else. But most thought Gustav. I certainly did.

  I remember it was an April day. Warm for April, but still a little chilly. The winter had been cold and all of us were anxious to get out into the fresh air. I had watched my father ride his great horse, and since I was a very little girl, I wanted to be able to ride like my father. We were taken to the stables that day, and I was told Gustav would be my instructor. You can imagine my excitement when the handsomest squire in the castle was going to be my instructor. Well, I walked up to him in the manner we had been taught and presented myself to him.

  “My name is Elsbet von Pappen and I am here to receive riding instructions.” And then I looked into his eyes. I thought he was laughing at me. Was it something I said? Was he laughing because of my front teeth? Was it the way I looked? I tried mightily to hold back the tears, but I knew he could see them fill my eyes. And then something happened which I will never forget.

  Gustav stepped forward and said, “Milady, it will be a great pleasure to help you with your riding. I have often seen you in the courtyard. The squires have often remarked favorably on you.” I was so pleased. I later admitted to myself that he was lying, but no matter.

  Gustav would often leave the castle for long periods of time, traveling with Sir Rupert, that great, old bear of a man whom Gustav can never stop talking about. At first, when he would return, he would see me at the stables where he would give me riding instructions. Most of my girlfriends knew I didn’t really take riding lessons to learn to be a better rider; I was soon better than any of the girls. They would tease me about my reasons, but no matter.

  Then Gustav began coming to see me as soon as he would return to Tannenberg. It was then that Aunt Hilda entered into the picture. Aunt Hilda, I was informed, would accompany me whenever in the company of a young man, and since the young man always was the same, our riding group was always the three of us.

  There are others who ask to ride with me, including Wilhelm, who becomes a knight this year, if all goes well, but I hope it will always be Gustav. I must confess that when Gustav first asked me to ride with him, with Aunt Hilda, of course, I wasn’t that interested. The young men of the castle were of little interest to me. Other things interested me more. I took an interest in writing, and with the secret encouragement of one of the chaplains, began writing poetry. I knew my father did not approve, but I sensed that Aunt Hilda, who had never married, did approve. She was not going to defy her brother, of course, but she would often take the time to read my poetry, and show me some of her own.

  Two years ago, something happened which changed my feelings for Gustav. Perhaps it is more true to say it awakened them. One of our border villages had been raided by a band of Lithuanian knights. I remember overhearing my father say they had raided the village in the hopes the Order would send its knights to obtain satisfaction, to teach the Lithuanians a lesson. He knew that Jagiello, now Wladyslawa II, king of Poland and Lithuania, wanted an opportunity to defeat the Teutonic Knights in battle, to show his own knights that the Teutons were not invincible.

  Although Gustav was still a squire, Rupert and the other knights considered him one of the most capable warriors in Tannenberg, so he went with the Lance. I remember watching them head eastward from the parapet. I remember also how surprised I was at my worry for Gustav. It became worse when the knights did not return in the three days that my father had expected.

  Finally, on the fifth day, they did return. Fully a third of the knights had been lost, and many more suffering serious wounds. As the knights walked their horses into the courtyard, my heart leaped when I saw Gustav, unharmed, a great smile for me when he saw me looking out of the window of the great chamber.

  Gustav does not know that I have written a poem about him and us that I cannot show to anyone, even to Aunt Hilda – especially to Aunt Hilda. Perhaps today.

  He is talking to Auntie now. How she makes poor Gustav wriggle. I have never seen her smile at him. He is smiling, so she said yes. Here he comes. I cannot let him know I was looking at them.

  ---

  When I approached Aunt Hilda, she did not look up until I had stood before her for over a minute. Then she looked up, as if she had known I was there for some time.

  “Sir Knight, I thought you would be preparing for the morrow. Surely there are things you should be doing to prepare.”

  She looked down again at her quilt, as if hoping I would turn and do as she suggested. It was then that I found the self-control that I had maintained for so long to protect this sour lady begin to fade.

  “My preparation tends to the heart and soul as well as the body, milady. I have come to request permission to escort Lady Elsbet on a ride along the river.”

  I watched Lady Hilda grimace as I spoke to her. I had never felt such urgency and I was bound to see my love before tomorrow. When she looked up she found my gaze hard upon her, and she looked away as she spoke.

  “Elsbet will be ready shortly after the turn of the next hour. If you would return then, Sir Knight.�
�� She was about to say more, but cut herself off.

  As I walked down the stairs, I thought about what lay ahead. After the evening meal, the knights would meet with their commanders to go over the plan of battle in the morning. We would be on the march hours before daylight, prepared for battle as the sun rose. To our misfortune, the sun would be in our eyes but there was no choice but to ride into it.

  I would have time to inspect my armor and weapons before riding with Elsbet. Since they had not been disturbed, that should take but a matter of minutes. Three warhorses were allotted to me for tomorrow’s battle. The gray gelding, I will ride to the hill in front of the river, I thought. The great black seems fit, and he will be my mount during the attack. The roan, willing but still young, will be kept in reserve. Let us hope the black will be enough. Much will depend on the ferocity and skill of our first attack.

  As I walked toward the armory where our weapons were kept, I found myself thinking about death. I am ready to die but I do not want to. I think of fair Elsbet and dream of the warmth of her, of joining with her in marriage, of seeing young sons and daughters to carry my seed forward on earth. For your seed is immortality, is it not? And I pray to God for that. If God wills that I die, then let it be, but I do not want it to happen.

  The stables were busy with grooms brushing the horses, knights inspecting their own mounts, and stable boys cleaning the stalls. There were the familiar sounds of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, the shouting of men, and the cries of eager young boys anxious to be near the knights. As I approached the stables, I saw the three horses held by the grooms in wait for the three of us. Manfred had brushed the gray until the sun glistened on his back. Girded with my hunting saddle, he danced lightly as I approached. With him were the mounts for Ladies Hilda and Elsbet. I saw Manfred had the wisdom to select the sturdy roan mare for Lady Hilda. Elsbet’s small black mare, which she called Little Girl, stood alertly, waiting for her mistress.

  I watched the two ladies. Elsbet seemed in a gay mood. The colors of her linen mantle and riding hood seemed to match her gaiety, with mixes of yellows and blues so dazzling as to change the mood of the stables. Men, busy before, slowed their pace to be able to glance at the dazzling beauty of the lord’s daughter. And her laughter seemed to be contagious, for the usually dour Lady Hilda was laughing heartily. When she saw me, her faced seemed to collapse, her mouth retaining the smallest hint of the humor which appeared still to hold her.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. With your permission, I thought we could ride north along the river.” I confess that my spirits were not nearly so high as I pretended. I could not erase tomorrow from my mind.

  As we rode, where the trail was wide enough, Elsbet rode by my side. Since the morning, the sky had begun to fill with clouds, great billowing ones moving swiftly, carried by the sea wind to the southeast. The purest white at first, they were turning increasingly gray. Tomorrow, the rains may come. No matter now.

  We talked little as we rode. No matter for me. It was enough to be with Elsbet. In midsummer, the meadows and forests were rich with life. A stag broke from underbrush as we rode near it, bounding with great beauty and energy into the woods beyond the river. A quail whirred in a quick burst of flight, allowing us to come near, and then taking flight again.

  “She is protecting her young,” I spoke loudly to Elsbet. “She will stay in front of us until we are safely clear of her brood.”

  “Gustav, there is a hill not far ahead. Could we stop and walk for a while?” Elsbet turned to her aunt who had stayed with their spirited canter, but seemed the worse for it.

  “A splendid idea. My horse seems to resent being taken from the stable. He has worn me out,” Lady Hilda said.

  I looked at the mare the lady was riding, and her ears told me she was none too pleased to be out of the stables this day. Certainly, the weight of her rider did not help her mood.

  Ahead we could see the piece of high ground where the river turned westward. Reaching the top, we tethered our horses and stood looking down at the river. To our right, we could see the castle. More a ridge than a hill, we began to walk upriver. I turned to see Lady Hilda spreading a blanket under a tall chestnut. She had removed the basket which she carried behind the saddle.

  “You two can walk ahead. I will rest here. When you return, we can share the wine and food I brought. And do not be too long. That horse has given me an appetite.”

  I looked at Elsbet. Lady Hilda had never allowed us out of her sight. Elsbet was smiling; I could only conclude that such liberty was by arrangement between the aunt and her niece. I glanced at Lady Hilda. Was there something different in her expression? Was there the tiniest of smiles at the very corners of her paper-thin lips? A warmth in her eyes I had never seen before?

  ---

  When Gustav had left the chambers, I hurried over to Auntie. “What did he say, Auntie? Will I see him this afternoon?”

  “Yes, my child. Your young knight was most forceful today. He insisted we meet at the stables, not here.” Auntie had a small hint of a smile as she spoke. I was puzzled. Why would she not be angry?

  “You know he cares deeply for you, don’t you, Elsbet?”

  “Yes, Auntie, I do. And I care deeply for him.”

  “Your father does look favorably upon Sir Gustav, I know. And the count relies heavily on Sir Rupert for advice. Not that I can understand why anyone would rely on the advice of so cavalier a nobleman.” The last remark made Elsbet smile, for Auntie Giesela had told her once of the brief infatuation that Auntie had with Sir Rupert, although he was sworn to a celibate life.

  “Auntie, you have always been my dearest Auntie, and I must ask you if you will leave us some privacy this afternoon. Although my father has attempted to keep it from me, I know what danger the German knights face tomorrow. One of the maids whom I have often confided in overheard the conversation between Sir Rupert and my father. They talked of a great army south of the river. You have only to look upon the faces of the knights and their foot soldiers to know that is true.”

  Auntie seemed to be far away for a moment. She seemed not to be aware of me. I thought I could see her start as her eyes focused once again on me. She took my hand. “I cannot deny you that, my child. There are moments we must seize. Once they are gone...”

  ---

  We are walking together now on the ridge above the river. I can see from Gustav’s glance that he knows what had transpired. I try to let him know that yes, my dearest man, we are alone. We can talk freely, you can tell me your feelings, and I, mine. The world we live in can fall away, and we can be alone but for each other. As I look at him, I wonder if he knows the pain I feel at this moment, that I have felt each time he left the castle to battle our enemies. I wonder if he can understand that my love for him would deny him nothing, that this moment is all that we may ever have.

  ---

  We had walked to a point where we could no longer see Lady Hilda, where but for animals of the forest, we were alone. In that moment, a lark began to sing above us. We both looked up and as we did, we both reached for the other’s hand and touched. I dropped to one knee and gently pulled her down beside me. The warm softness of her small hand was covered by my own. I felt her hand move in mine. For those sweet moments in the warm grass, under billowing white clouds and warm sun rays, we made our vows.

  ---

  When we had returned from our ride, I had climbed to the parapet to find some place where I might be alone for a moment. What I was feeling, I cannot describe. I am neither a philosopher nor a physician. I cannot compare it with the exhilaration that comes with victory in battle, because there were no hard edges, no sense of great power or invincibility. There was instead sweetness in my soul, a fixation not on myself but on someone else, who was apart yet still beside me. If tomorrow is my last day in this sweet land, I shall not be sad for myself, but for Elsbet.

  I looked to the west and my reverie was broken by the clamor on the meadow as the army began to form. The Ca
stle of Tannenberg sat flush against the River. Like all great castles built in the east by the German knights, it was made of brick. As soldiers of God, the Order of the Teutons organized their castles as monasteries and fortresses. The castle at Tannenberg was composed of three great sections. The hochschloss, the high castle, which housed the chapel. The mittelschloss, where the Order lived along with the lord of the castle, and the unterschloss, which included the outer walls and completed the defenses. As the army of foot soldiers, archers, and knights were being assembled, the twenty-five hundred men who composed the army were too large to be accommodated within the walls.

  Both upriver and down, the shoreline was covered with marsh grass and underbrush, limiting its use to the trapping of muskrats and little else. But to the south of the castle, beyond the moat, meadows spread themselves to the nearest tree line over four hundred meters from the castle walls. It was here that the vassals of the kingdom came, responding to the news that an army was forming at the border. It was from this field that the army would move toward the Vistula. Tomorrow, one hundred ninety-seven German knights would take the field.

  From our permanent garrison, two hundred bowmen armed with crossbows would be complemented by another three hundred seventy-eight with long bows. With over fifteen hundred foot soldiers armed with pole arms, less than twenty-three hundred men to confront King Wladyslawa’s great army.

  I was standing in the courtyard with Sir Rupert when Sir Sigismund, one of the older knights, walked his mount into the courtyard. Behind him his speckled mount walked head down, her flanks soaked, exhausted from the return from the river.

  “They are leaving!” the scout shouted. “Fully one-half of the men are gone from the meadow.”

  “Which way did they go?” Sir Rupert had not reacted as I expected. An anxious look had crossed his face.

  “They took the roads to the east and south. All of the baggage trains left with them. All the tents are removed.”