The Warrior Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  The herald gave the signal and the two riders’ horses sprang forward.

  Wolfgang urged his horse forward. Thankfully his horse knew exactly what to do. He charged down the lists, following close to the low wall. Wolfgang lowered the lance, carefully aiming at the center of his opponent’s breastplate. But the lance had never felt so heavy. He just had to keep it level, not let it drop, and not die. God, if I win, it will be because of You and Your miraculous strength.

  And don’t let Steffan die.

  Their lances slammed into the other’s armor. At least Wolfgang had made a hit. Steffan’s lance struck Wolfgang in the shoulder, knocking him backward, but the cantle on the back of his saddle kept him from falling off.

  When he reached the end of the lists, he turned his horse around and saw that neither of them had broken their lances.

  “Are you all right?” Gerke stood beside him with another lance.

  Was he all right? His whole body burned and ached, but as long as he was sitting in the saddle and could hold a lance . . . “I’m all right.”

  He thought he caught a glimpse of Mulan off to the side. He had to turn his head to look at her. When he did, she turned her back to him and covered her face. No doubt she was still furious with him for locking her in her room and taking her place.

  He took the new lance, even though his old one seemed fine, to let Gerke examine the old one for cracks. Steffan was doing the same at the other end.

  The blow from Steffan’s lance had vibrated through his body, not to mention how far back he had bent, pulling at his injury. The pain was sharp, but he could ignore it. He had to.

  Wolfgang went back to his starting position in the lists. His head was getting dizzy, his vision spinning. He closed his eyes and opened them again. He could see Mulan’s mother, dressed all in white, standing in the place where she’d be executed if he failed. God, be merciful.

  The herald gave the signal and Wolfgang spurred his horse forward. They seemed to be moving in slow motion. Steffan was coming at him, lowering his lance.

  This was it. He wasn’t sure he could take another direct hit. Either God would save him, or He wouldn’t.

  Wolfgang struggled to keep his lance steady. He worked to aim it, but his arm was losing strength. Just as Steffan reached him, his brother threw his lance to the ground while Wolfgang’s lance tip crashed into Steffan’s breastplate.

  A sudden, stabbing pain jolted Wolfgang’s body. His vision quickly went dark, and he felt himself falling.

  No, no, no. If he fell off his horse he’d either have to fight Steffan hand to hand, or he would be declared the loser, especially if he couldn’t rise.

  He hit the ground. He’d knocked himself out of the saddle just by striking Steffan, since Steffan had not even landed a blow.

  Wolfgang still held his lance, which had shattered all the way up to the vamplate protecting his hand. His head was still spinning, but at least the black had retreated to the edges of his vision. Summoning every drop of his strength, and using what was left of his lance, he pushed himself up off the ground and to his feet.

  Where was Steffan? Was he coming up behind him? Wolfgang turned around, staggering. Steffan’s riderless horse was on the other side of the wall so Wolfgang stumbled to one end and walked around it. There lay Steffan on the ground, not moving.

  O God. He can’t be dead.

  The dizziness grew worse, but he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Steffan!” Wolfgang called out.

  Steffan did not move.

  As soon as Wolfgang reached him, he bent and flipped up his visor. Steffan’s eyes were closed, his face pale, his lips ashen. Blood oozed from a cut over his eye.

  Wolfgang waved his gauntleted hand and three attendants swarmed around him. They knelt beside the fallen combatant and were talking to him, but Steffan was not answering.

  They worked at his helmet, trying to take it off. Finally they raised his head and shoulders, then pulled off the helmet.

  Wolfgang caught a glimpse of his face, which was perfectly still. No, God, please. Steffan is not a bad person. He just needs You.

  How could he bear it if he had killed his brother? The guilt that had dogged his steps since he was a child would completely overwhelm him.

  Someone put his ear near to Steffan’s mouth. “He breathes!”

  A Hospitaller’s pallet had been brought out. They picked him up and placed him on it. With four of them hefting it off the ground, they carried him off the field.

  Wolfgang raised his visor and looked over at Rusdorf. He was scowling as darkly as Wolfgang had ever seen him. Everyone was staring at him now. The trial by combat was over. Surely no one could dispute the outcome.

  Rusdorf’s assistant quieted the crowd by motioning with his hands. Still, Rusdorf said nothing. People began to murmur and glance around. Finally he spoke. “The outcome of this trial by combat is that Frau Feodosia is innocent of witchcraft.”

  The spectators were now milling around the lists. Two guards were freeing Mulan’s mother from her bonds. As soon as she was loose, Mulan threw her arms around her.

  Thank You, God, for sparing Mulan’s mother. Now he just had to wait and see if his brother would recover.

  Gerke brought a stool and forced Wolfgang to sit—forced him, as the slight pull on his arm made him sink onto it. Then Gerke and Andrei went to work taking off his helmet.

  The cool air on his face and neck revived him a bit, and he opened his eyes. Mulan was standing just behind Gerke, squinting at him.

  Sir Thomas appeared beside her. “Steffan opened his eyes and spoke before losing consciousness again, but I think he will survive.”

  The breath went out of him at this good news.

  Gerke and Andrei were working on getting the rest of his armor off. Wolfgang was in pain, but he had not killed Steffan or himself, so he would not complain. And the fact that Mulan was not glaring at him also helped.

  The pauldrons came off of his shoulders, then the rerebrace, the vambrace, and the couter from both arms, as well as his gauntlets. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, discussing the joust and snatches of conversations they’d heard from Rusdorf’s men. But his gaze followed Mulan the entire time.

  She would only glance at him as she talked with her mother and Sir Thomas and Andrei. When they removed the breastplate, they all gasped, including Mulan. He looked down and bright-red blood was oozing down his side from his wound.

  Sir Thomas drew closer and knelt beside Wolfgang. Someone had fetched some bandages and now held them out. Sir Thomas pressed the bandages against the wound. The herbal drink Sir Thomas had given him earlier must have worn off because his vision was spinning worse than ever, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stay upright on the stool. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, sweat running down his face.

  But he was alive. Steffan was alive. And Mulan’s mother was alive.

  All was well, thanks to God.

  CHAPTER 28

  Mulan gasped at the bright-red blood flowing from Wolfgang’s body. He himself seemed to swoon, but when Sir Thomas asked him, “Can you walk?” Wolfgang said, “Ja.”

  The boys had taken off his leg armor, and now they helped him to stand.

  She could still feel the heat in her head from her fury over being locked in her chamber. Andrei had betrayed her and helped Wolfgang. But he was in pain, and he had hurt his own brother to save her mother. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to yell at him or kiss him.

  But she could hardly do either, with so many people around. So she quietly helped and watched . . . and waited for her mother to finish conversing with several monks standing in line for their turn to congratulate her on winning her trial by combat.

  Mother was smiling and even giving them her blessing, promising to leave some of her salve for them. Mulan’s gaze slid from her mother to Wolfgang and back again. She decided to stay with her mother as Wolfgang had a man on either side of him, hel
ping him keep his balance. He hobbled off the field with his head down.

  Mother broke away from the monks, and Mulan took her arm.

  “All has turned out as it should,” Mother said with a knowing smile.

  “I should have been as at peace about it as you were.” Mulan’s nerves were still jumping underneath her skin, reminding her of the extreme anxiety she’d experienced watching Wolfgang charge at full tilt toward danger or even death, as well as seeing her mother only moments away from being burned at the stake.

  If she could have trusted God as her mother did, she could have saved herself the torment of fear and a sleepless night.

  Her mother was chattering away about the monks she had just met. “They were very interested in my methods of healing, and especially the recipe for my healing salve. We had a good discussion about herbs and honey and the uses of wine.”

  Mulan nodded and said, “Mm . . . uh-huh,” every so often, but her thoughts focused on Wolfgang. Was he hurt worse than he seemed? What could she say to him? After he locked her in her room . . . She could not just overlook that. She was still furious with him! But he had saved her mother. She loved him. She hated him.

  “Mulan, you are not listening.”

  Mother was staring at her in the middle of her bedchamber.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. What did you say?”

  “I am tired and wish to lie down for a while. You may go and find out how Wolfgang is faring, the dear man.” She smiled and patted Mulan’s cheek.

  “Are you sure? Do you need anything?”

  “No, no. I am tired from the crowd. I’m not used to so much attention.”

  “Very well. I love you, Mother.” She kissed her wrinkled cheek and hastened from the room.

  She hurried down the stairs, her heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Wolfgang again. She pressed her hand against her chest and slowed her descent.

  She followed the corridors, thinking at one point that she had become lost in the circuitous route from her mother’s tower room to Wolfgang’s room in the Middle Castle. But soon she reached his door and knocked.

  Sir Thomas opened the door only enough to stick his head in the opening. “Forgive me, Mulan, but Wolfgang is not dressed. We are tending his wound. He may be able to see you a little later.”

  “But he is not hurt badly . . . is he?” She spoke softly, hoping Wolfgang couldn’t hear her.

  “No, my dear. He has just reopened his injury, but we are applying your mother’s salve. I am sure your prayers will speed his recovery.”

  Sir Thomas closed the door on her just as she got a glimpse of Wolfgang’s grimacing face.

  She wrung her hands. I should pray. She began the Lord’s Prayer and paced the floor in front of Wolfgang’s chamber, making sure to keep her footsteps soft and quiet.

  Finally, after praying for so long she couldn’t think of anything else to say, the door creaked open.

  Mulan halted as Gerke, Andrei, and Sir Thomas emerged. “You may go in and see him now.” Sir Thomas smiled.

  She examined Andrei’s and Gerke’s faces as well. No tears or sorrow. So she slipped into Wolfgang’s room and shut the door behind her.

  He was leaning back against the pillows. When he saw her, he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

  He wore a loose linen shirt that laced up at the neck but lay open, exposing a bit of his chest. His eyes were pinned on hers.

  “Now, Mulan.” His voice was strained. “I know you are angry, but all turned out well, did it not? Your mother is safe. And I would not . . .”

  Slowly she advanced toward him, remembering all the dire things she’d plotted to do and say to him while she was locked in her room, pounding on the door and screaming for someone to open it.

  “. . . would not have done it if I could have thought of another way . . . Mulan?” He leaned back as she reached him.

  She pointed her finger at his chest. “You had Andrei lock me in my room.” She kept her voice calm. “No one has ever locked me in a room before.”

  “I’m sorry, Mulan. I couldn’t think of any other way.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes imploring hers. “I only did it because I love you. I love you, and I had to protect you.”

  She reached out and cupped his cheek. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

  Wolfgang’s lips were gentle and lingering as he kissed her back. Then she brought her other hand up and held his face between her hands. She kissed him again, and Wolfgang’s arms wrapped around her.

  Her anger was tapping her on the shoulder, but she shrugged it away. Her heart pounded, her breathing shallowed, and kissing him was the only thing she wanted to think about.

  Mulan was kissing him. Wolfgang’s stomach turned inside out, and he slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He returned her kiss, hardly believing she was kissing him instead of berating him.

  The initial kiss turned into two kisses, then three. Her kissing became nearly as fierce as the way she fought a battle. But he kissed her with equal fervor, hoping to convince her of his devotion.

  She pulled away enough to gaze into his eyes. “You locked me in a room.”

  “Forgive me. I promise never—”

  She kissed him again, still fierce.

  “—never to do it again,” he managed to say between kisses.

  Finally she pulled back until she was nearly at arm’s length. “I’m still angry with you.”

  “I’m a little angry with you too.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “It hurt that you didn’t let me take your place. Will you always be that stubborn?”

  Her shoulders tensed. “You are as stubborn as I am. You made Andrei lock me in a room.”

  “Perhaps I should not have, but Andrei did it willingly. To save you.”

  She glared at him but did not pull completely out of his arms.

  “I will always feel the need to protect you. Will you always fight me when I want to help you? Is this to be a pattern? Because I will never stop wanting to keep you safe.”

  She spoke in a breathy whisper. “I don’t know. I . . . I was too afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “Afraid you didn’t really care about me, afraid you would get killed, afraid I was a fool for thinking you really wanted to help me. I don’t know. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I was . . . protecting myself.”

  “From what?”

  “From you hurting me, from you rejecting me. Something inside me told me not to trust you, that I had to be the one to protect Mother and myself.”

  She was right. It didn’t make sense. But perhaps it did. “Your father hurt you and rejected you and your mother. But I’m not like your father.”

  “You said you loved me.” Her cheeks reddened to match her lips as her gaze flitted away from him, as if she couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “I do love you.” He set his hands on her waist and managed to pull her a bit closer.

  “And you want to marry me.”

  “I will marry you today if you are willing.”

  “You are the son of a duke, and I am a poor girl who has no education and doesn’t even know your native language. I don’t know how to be among nobility or how to dance or even how to be feminine enough. How could you want to marry me?”

  “I can marry anyone I wish. And you don’t need to be anything other than what you are at this moment for me and my family to love you. Besides that, do you think I want a woman for her education or for who her family is? For your dancing skills? And you conversed quite well with Duke Konrad and Duchess Katarzyna.”

  Her lowered brows lifted and the crease between her eyes slowly relaxed and disappeared.

  “I love you, Mulan. And I will get a house. It may not be palatial, but I will get a house where we can live.”

  “But when you locked me in my chamber,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes, “I beat on the door for half an hour at least before Sir Thomas ca
me and let me out.”

  Her palms were pressed against his chest. She pushed away from him. He gently grasped her wrists and held her hands out so he could see them.

  Purple bruises marred the sides, below her little fingers. The knuckles were also bruised, and two or three bore signs of blood and broken skin. A giant fist squeezed his heart.

  “Liebling,” he whispered. He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them, first brushing the bruises on the side of each hand with his lips, then turning them over and kissing the knuckles.

  If this was a dream, that Mulan was yielded and still and letting him kiss her, he didn’t want to ever wake up.

  CHAPTER 29

  A slight moan bubbled up from Mulan’s throat, but she stifled it. If this was how it would be to fight with Wolfgang and how he apologized . . . Her anger was quickly dissipating. His lips were so gentle, and the tender way he held her hands made her stomach turn flips.

  He continued to kiss her knuckles slowly, one at a time.

  “Wolfie,” she breathed.

  Her eyes lit on a smear of drying blood on his jawline, reminding her of all that he’d been through to save her mother. She leaned forward and kissed his temple.

  “I love when you call me Wolfie.” His voice was deep and raspy, and she could feel his breath in her hair.

  “Wolfie.” She kissed his cheek. Then she kissed his lips.

  A knock sounded on the door behind her, making her pull away. She took another step away from him, her cheeks burning. The look of anguish on Wolfgang’s face, as if it were physically painful to end their kiss, sent a jolt of lightning through her middle.

  Wolfgang caressed her cheek. Finally he called, “Come in.”

  Sir Thomas entered. Mulan pressed a hand over her mouth. Could Sir Thomas see Wolfgang’s kisses there? Because she could still feel them.

  “I am sorry to . . . interrupt, but Rusdorf wishes to speak to you both. May I tell him he is invited to your chamber?”

  Wolfgang didn’t answer right away. “We probably do not have much choice. We’d prefer to have you here when he comes.”