The Warrior Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  The Bible passages that she had asked Wolfgang to help her memorize came flooding to her mind now that she was praying. She held them like a warm embrace to her heart, closing her eyes. “God, I know You are with my mother and You will never leave her or forsake her. Because of You, God, I can sleep in peace and safety, and I’m believing that You are giving peace and safety to my mother as well. Thank You.”

  The next day they rode hard. Mulan focused her mind on getting there as quickly as possible. One more night and then riding another day and they should be there. But during the long hours of hard riding, fear kept attacking her. She thought of everything that could go wrong. Her mother’s frightened face haunted her.

  They halted at midday to rest beside a stream. As she dismounted, Mulan spotted a horse and rider two hundred feet behind them, disappearing into the dark woods they’d just passed through.

  She squinted, staring hard at the spot where she thought she’d seen him vanish, but there was no sign of anyone and no movement. Did she imagine him?

  On the evening of the second day of travel, Simon, Gregorius, Gerke, and Andrei went into a rather large village to see about buying food. They left Wolfgang and Mulan at a stream to build a fire and make camp.

  Mulan couldn’t seem to stop contemplating how unfair it was that her mother was being persecuted by an evil man who had taken vows to God.

  As she took care of her horse and made sure his hooves were shod and in good condition, her thoughts went again to her mother, falsely accused, frightened and alone at Malbork Castle, possibly even sick or hurt. Mulan’s chest ached and her eyes grew watery. She leaned her forehead against Boldheart’s broad neck as the tears she’d been holding inside for days streamed down her cheeks.

  Wolfgang’s footsteps approached. She lifted her head from her horse’s neck and turned away, frantically catching the tears with her fingers and wiping them on her shirt.

  “Mulan?”

  He was right behind her, and his low voice seemed to make the tears fall faster, faster than she could wipe them away.

  “Worried about your mother?” His hand touched her shoulder, gentle but warm. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He stepped in front of her, easing her shoulder toward him. She kept her head down, still wiping frantically at her wet cheeks. And yet . . . her heart weighed a hundred stone and was breaking in two.

  “I can’t let him hurt Mother.” She choked out the words. “Please, God.” She started sobbing, and he did what she had wordlessly longed for: Wolfgang put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her forward until her damp cheek rested against his chest.

  Huddled against him, she quickly suppressed the sobs and concentrated on breathing in and out. Wolfgang was holding her. Even her ugly, horrifying thoughts didn’t feel quite so terrifying with his arms around her. Part of her soaked it in, even as the other part trembled with a nameless fear that this was going to lead to her hurt.

  He spoke softly against her hair. “I’m so sorry this happened, but God is on the side of the righteous. He will help us save her. All will be well. Believe it.”

  His shirt smelled so good—like outdoors and leather and him. She was being foolish, but she didn’t care. It felt so good to be held by Wolfgang.

  Her tears had subsided, but she worried that her nose would drip. She pulled a cloth from her pocket, trying not to move too much or make him think she was trying to get away, and when she brought the cloth to her nose, he actually drew her closer. She could feel his chin resting on her head.

  She never wanted to move from this spot. There was only the gentle sounds of the stream trickling over the rocks, the crunching of their horses cropping the grass at their feet, and—was she imagining it?—Wolfgang’s heart beating against her ear.

  He cared about her, and she just might float off the ground. But in what manner did he care for her? As a soldier cares for his fellow soldier? Or as a man cares for a woman?

  No, she would just enjoy this moment and not let herself think any further about it. Mother was most important now anyway. She closed her eyes as he spoke again.

  “If God is for us, Rusdorf cannot win.”

  She took a deep breath, his scent filling her senses. Her knees went a little weak.

  “We will slip into the castle unobserved and steal your mother away if we have to.”

  “But you have heard how many guards that place has.” Mulan couldn’t seem to stop herself from speaking her fears. “It’s impenetrable. And very large, and we can’t know where he’s holding her.”

  “We will find a way. Perhaps your mother has already convinced him that he is evil for accusing her falsely. Perhaps he will set her free.”

  “You know that’s not likely.”

  “Anything is possible with God.”

  She let her arms go around him—such heaven. But it was wrong to take advantage of his kindness, when he probably had no idea how much she desired more than just his friendship.

  She gently pushed away from him and pressed her cloth against her eyes and nose. Wolfgang left one arm around her shoulder, still standing very close. If she lifted her head . . . would he kiss her?

  Mulan squeezed her eyes shut. Do you want to make a fool of yourself? Do you want to be rejected and embarrassed? To give Wolfgang the wrong idea about you? He had no idea of her feelings. He certainly wasn’t thinking about kissing her.

  Was he?

  With reluctance Wolfgang let Mulan pull away from him. If only he could have held her forever, feeling her breathe, inhaling her heady scent of fresh air, trees, and flowers—must have been some womanly scented soap the duchess gave her. And yet, if she knew how much he’d hoped she would lift her head, then close her eyes . . . If she had, he would have leaned down and kissed her.

  He was nearly as bad as Johannes, contemplating taking advantage of her when she was upset and worried about her mother. Besides, a good man didn’t go around kissing women and breaking their hearts. But he rather figured it was his heart, not hers, that was in danger.

  He kept one arm around her while she wiped her face. She was his friend, after all. It twisted his gut to see her cry. If it would take away her sadness, he’d rip Rusdorf apart with his bare hands. But as Wolfgang had learned from his sisters, as well as from advice given by his father, women just wanted someone to be compassionate when they cried. To mend the problem was secondary.

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Finally she smiled, her gaze not rising higher than his chest.

  “I’m sorry for crying on you. I think I dampened your tunic.” She reached out and wiped it with her cloth. There was something about the look on her face, her movements and her posture. Was she feeling this . . . whatever it was between them? Longing? Closeness? Anticipation?

  “I don’t mind.” He didn’t move, watching her cheeks blush a pretty pink, her eyes focused on his shirt. Look up. Look up at me. If he saw that something in her eyes, he might dare . . .

  She was still wiping at his shirt. After a moment she stopped, but she still didn’t lift her eyes above his chest.

  “I suppose the others will be back soon.” Her voice was wispy, as if she had lost her breath.

  Her hand dangled now beside his. He brushed it with the back of his hand. She didn’t move.

  He wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed it, ever so gently. She didn’t pull away.

  Her lips parted slightly as she stared down at their joined hands. He lifted her hand slowly . . . slowly . . . and her eyes followed. He brought her hand all the way up to his lips and kissed it, reveling in her soft skin on his lips. Her eyes met his.

  She stared at his mouth, her lips softly parted. A jolt shot through his middle and his heart pounded. He lifted his lips from her hand and drew it to his chest. She took a tiny step toward him. He leaned down and hesitated. She closed her eyes. He pressed his lips against hers.

  There was nothing in the world except the feel of her lips on his, the sound of her breathi
ng . . . until the sound of horses’ hooves intruded.

  A sharp ache stabbed his chest as he pulled away.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. Then she stepped away and spun around, taking hold of her horse’s reins.

  He groaned inwardly. Was she horrified at what he had done? He was probably fortunate she didn’t grab her knife, or slap him, or both.

  Or had she felt that moment of absolute rapture that had caught hold of his heart and sent it flying into the heavens?

  “Mulan, I—”

  She held up her hand, keeping her back to him. “The others are approaching.” But then she whirled around and glared at him with narrowed eyes.

  His stomach sank. What did that look on her face mean? Anger? Suspicion? Pain? He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. He just wanted to show her . . . he was falling in love with her. Did she feel it too? His heart soared at the possibility that she felt it too.

  But he could not just kiss her—even a gentle, brief kiss—no matter how strong the temptation had been. She didn’t know what his intentions were. And neither did he, in truth.

  Except he did know what his intentions were. If they could survive this impending confrontation with Rusdorf . . . Wolfgang might be just a poor soldier with nothing to bring to Mulan, but he could not imagine ever loving another woman besides her, and if she would wait for him, he would prove to her that his intentions were matrimonial.

  But he should not have kissed her. She would not wish to be alone with him now. She would be suspicious and angry.

  He’d just made things much harder. And yet . . . he finally knew exactly what he wanted.

  CHAPTER 22

  Mulan’s eyes filled with tears. She had wanted Wolfgang to kiss her, but . . . what did it mean?

  Wolfgang had never seemed like the type of man to trifle with a girl’s heart or hurt her, and yet . . . she also would not have thought he was the type to kiss a girl when he had no means of marrying her. He had made it clear he had no fortune of his own, no home where they could live. Did he think this was a competition and he could kiss her even though she had rejected Johannes?

  No. She couldn’t believe Wolfgang would think like that. But she suddenly wanted to demand an explanation from him, no matter how uncomfortable that would be.

  Their friends neared. How humiliating it would be if they heard Wolfgang explain why he’d kissed her! But that was not why she felt as if she were being split in two. Wanting him and yet terrified to feel so vulnerable. She was so afraid to want him!

  What right did she have to be angry with him? She could have pulled away, could have stopped him, easily. He had not forced himself on her. He had even hesitated, just before he kissed her, giving her a chance to back away if she’d wished to.

  She pressed a hand to her heated cheek. How could she face him now? And how could she let herself be so vulnerable, letting him kiss her?

  She remembered when her father came home, having been gone for months. Hope had arisen as Mother told him how glad she was that he was home and well and safe. He barely grunted at her, did not regard her, and brushed right past her. The look on her mother’s face twisted Mulan’s gut even now. The pain and heartbreak. Mulan never, ever wanted to feel that.

  Had she destined herself to be as hurt as her mother?

  Mulan would pretend it never happened. After all, it was only a quick kiss, barely anything. She would simply have to treat him like all the other soldiers she worked with. It wouldn’t be that difficult.

  But as the others arrived with the food and they sat on the grassy bank next to the stream, she couldn’t help sliding a glance at Wolfgang. He was glancing at her at the same moment. She looked away. Ach! Foolish girl. Foolish heart.

  Gregorius handed her some fresh bread and fried meat.

  “Can you believe we found meat?” Simon’s excitement broke into her thoughts. “They said it was goat meat, but it tastes like venison.”

  “Probably poached from some nobleman’s forest.”

  “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

  They laughed. Mulan looked down at the meat and bread and the thought of eating it made her feel sick, but she forced herself to eat. A soldier needed his—her—strength.

  She was sorry she’d turned away from Wolfgang earlier. She shouldn’t have let him know she was upset about him kissing her. Now he’d try to talk to her, to apologize. Her stomach sank thinking about it.

  They finished eating as the last of the sunlight faded from overhead. Now the only light glowed from their cook fire.

  Normally they would sit and talk for a while, but they all went to their blankets and lay down in a circle around the fire. Mulan closed her eyes, immediately reliving Wolfgang’s arms around her and the events that led up to his kiss. She pressed her fingers against her lips and wished she could still feel it.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed, her thoughts whirling and distracting her from her prayers.

  Would she ever feel normal again?

  Wolfgang awoke the next morning with scratchy eyes and aching limbs. He hadn’t slept well, and he dreamed more than once about Mulan. Had they been joyful or romantic dreams? Oh no! Nightmares would be a more apt description. In one dream he bumped into her and sent her falling over a rocky cliff. He grabbed frantically for her with both hands, which woke him up—his hands reaching out when he opened his eyes. In his next nightmare he inadvertently let a lion out of its cage, and it leapt on Mulan. Wolfgang snatched up his sword and stabbed at the beast. When he awoke, his hands were clenched and he was stabbing the air.

  He rubbed his eyes and moaned, then got to his feet. “We have to make a plan.”

  Wolfgang, Mulan, Simon, and Gregorius huddled together.

  “We’ll reach Malbork Castle before night,” Simon said.

  “So we don’t all get captured, I say only two of us—Gregorius and I—go in first while the rest of you wait outside.”

  “No.” Mulan shook her head. “I will not wait outside the castle. My mother is there, and I will be going in.”

  “You know Rusdorf wishes to destroy you.”

  Why was she so determined not to let him protect her? Wolfgang took a breath and deliberately softened his voice. “He only captured your mother to lure you to him.”

  “Which is why I must be the one to confront him.”

  “That’s not sound reasoning.”

  “Sound reasoning or not, if he captured my mother to get to me, then I have to confront him to free my mother.”

  She was right. Was his desire to protect her interfering with his reasoning?

  “Very well. If we don’t come out or send word to you”—he pointed to Simon and Gregorius—“then go back to Duke Konrad and let him know. He will send help.” I hope.

  They nodded and scattered to finish getting ready for the day’s ride.

  Only God knew what would happen.

  Mulan was very quiet. Should he tell her he was sorry for kissing her? He’d have to explain that he knew he had no right, yet, to kiss her.

  He tried to find time to speak to Mulan alone, but Simon, Gregorius, Gerke, and Andrei were never far away as they quickly packed their things and tightened their saddles. Soon they were riding north again toward the main castle of the Teutonic Knights.

  The day was cloudy and misty. He tried to use the time in the saddle to pray, but his thoughts kept wandering to Rusdorf, to what dangers lay ahead of them, and to Mulan.

  The sky lightened after noon. They stopped for a short rest and to eat. Again, Mulan hardly spoke, but Simon and Gregorius treated her with more deference than usual, probably thinking her silence was due to her worry about her mother. And perhaps it was.

  Wolfgang wanted to hold her again. He could not have been mistaken that she had wanted him to, that she had been very receptive to the comfort he’d given her. But maybe it was the kiss that had been unwelcome and untimely.

  They continued on th
eir journey. About two hours later, Simon slowed his horse and turned to them. “We’re almost there.”

  “How much farther?”

  “About half an hour at this pace.”

  “Have you seen anyone following us?”

  Everyone shook their heads. “Not today.”

  Simon and Gregorius looked slightly ill at ease.

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the village near the castle. They rode through it, then continued down the road that led through a thick forest. Finally up ahead was a clearing, and when they reached the clearing, an enormous brick wall and buildings of various heights rose before them—Malbork Castle.

  It was more immense than any castle, church, or palace Wolfgang had ever seen. The red brick seemed to go on and on. Multiple buildings rose several stories and various towers extended above them. A matching red brick wall enclosed all the buildings, with a moat surrounding that.

  “You had better wait here.” He and Mulan would go in alone.

  “Ride around to the north of the castle,” Simon said. “There is only one entrance. You’ll cross a drawbridge.” Simon and Gregorius, along with Gerke and Andrei, stayed out of sight in the woods where they could watch them enter through the north gate.

  Wolfgang turned to Mulan. “It’s not too late. You can let Simon go with me while you stay here with the others.”

  “No.”

  He knew that look. She would not back down.

  “Very well. Let’s go.”

  They would seek an audience with Rusdorf, discover what was happening with her mother, then ride back. Meanwhile, Simon and Gregorius would wait two hours, and if Mulan and Wolfgang did not return, they would approach the castle with care, pretending to be travelers looking for a place to spend the night, and would find out if Rusdorf had detained them. Then they would break them free.

  That was the plan.

  Wolfgang rode beside Mulan, who had pulled her hair back from her face and was dressed in her soldier’s garb. Her back was stiff and straight as they rode at a steady walk across the grassy area on the north side of the castle. On the western side was the Norgat River, and forests surrounded the castle to the south and east.