by Tracy Falbe
Altea only dozed fitfully the rest of the night. At dawn pounding on the back door got her up. Martin was already dressed and coming out of his room.
“That’s probably Bekcek,” he said.
Her stomach tensed. Only a serious problem would prompt his Constable to come get him. Something horrible must have happened.
The governess came down from the attic, rubbing her eyes and wondering what all the commotion was about. She had slept through everything.
“Take care of them,” Altea said and followed her stepfather.
At the back door Hynek had let in Constable Bekcek. His brassy medallion was bright against his black clothes. He glanced with his narrow eyes at Altea who was only in a nightgown. She disliked his leering gaze and ducked into the kitchen. Cynthia and Esther crowded behind her as she peeked into the hall.
“Magistrate,” Bekcek said and took off his hat.
“What’s happened?” Martin demanded.
Bekcek shook his head. No soft heart beat in his chest, but he had been bothered by what he had seen. “Horses were slain in their stables last night. Folk said it was a giant hairy beast took ’em out like a dog killing rats. It was more demonesque than a normal beast. Devil sent for certain. Then two street men got butchered near the Jewish Quarter. Ugly scene that was, even in the dark. Folk also say there was two beasts, but you know how stories get. There’ll be twenty of them before the sun sets,” he said.
“Two of them?” Martin muttered. He hoped that would make them easier to find. One night of howling could be dismissed, but a second night coupled with terrible killings was going to demand an official response.
“I’m ready,” he said and left with his Constable.
His willingness to forgo breakfast informed Altea of how seriously her stepfather was taking the situation.
Elias came downstairs just as the door slammed behind his father. Altea told him what had happened.
“A killing spree?” he said, quite shocked. “And people said it was huge?”
“That’s what Bekcek told him. And there’s two of them,” she said.
“They’ll need to be hunted down,” Elias said.
Altea supposed the monsters would be found and killed although part of her wished they would just run away and leave the city. She disliked calls for blood, especially when she imagined the majesty of the creature whose songs touched her so tenderly. How could something that produced such a lovely sound spread slaughter and terror?
She helped the governess get the boys dressed and commanded everyone to have a normal breakfast. They were halfway into the meal when excessive noise in the street interrupted them. The front door knocker clanged like it was being struck with a hammer. Hynek plodded off to answer it.
From down the hall he soon called, “Young Master Elias, I think you should come.”
The tremor in his old voice was worse than usual. Elias bounded up from his chair and banged against the edge of the table. All the dishes were jostled. Altea followed him.
Hynek had not opened the door. It was still latched from the night. Elias looked out a window and gasped. He yanked the curtains over it.
“There’s a crowd out there!” he cried.
The door knocker kept clanging and another fist banged on the wood.
Altea hurried up to the window and peeked out. The street was thronged with men.
“Don’t open the door,” Hynek advised.
“I have to,” Elias said and unlatched it.
For once Altea was inclined to agree with the valet and caught her brother’s hand on the latch.
“At least let me go with you,” she said.
“It’s not safe,” Elias argued.
“All the more reason you should not step out there alone,” she said.
“I’ll take Hynek,” he said.
“Why not get one of my old ragdolls to protect you?” she scoffed, not caring if the valet heard her.
“Stay here,” Elias said and unbolted the door.
Altea ignored him and followed him out. Elias shoved back the two men beating on his door. The agitated babble of the crowd erupted into fierce shouting.
“We want protection!”
“Find the monster!”
“He didn’t get all the witches!”
“Who’s going to hunt that damn beast?”
“We want to see Magistrate Fridrich!”
Elias waved his arms and yelled, “He’s not here! He’s gone to the Court!”
Deaf to his cries, the crowd kept clamoring for the Magistrate.
Altea smacked the knuckles of a man hanging on the iron railing. Her sharp whack made him let go and drop back to the street.
“He’s not here! You’re frightening his children! Go away!” she yelled.
“What about my children?!” a man yelled.
Altea scanned the faces, uncertain of who had spoken. “Go home!” she cried.
Elias grabbed her and pulled her inside. He slammed the door and shoved its bolt into place. The thick wood muffled the irrational demands that continued to froth out of the mob like eggs from coupling frogs.
“It’s useless. They won’t listen,” he said.
“I suppose they’ll go away eventually,” she said, miserable at the thought of being besieged all day.
The other boys ran down the hall and clung to their brother and sister.
“Papa must be told these people are here,” Patrik said.
“I think Patrik is right,” Altea said. “Your father would send men to break up this crowd if he knew about it.”
Elias frowned thoughtfully and looked like a skinny version of his father. Altea had never seen her half brother look so serious and mature before.
“Let’s go to Father. I can’t stand this. We need armed guards,” he decided. “What is wrong with people? Can’t they think at all?”
“Leave the house?” Altea said.
“We can still get out the back alley if we go quickly,” Elias said, rushing down the hall.
His brothers looked to Altea, sharing in her fear. She waffled on the rough ground of her anxiety for only a heartbeat. They needed to get away. If they could not reach Martin’s office, she decided to take her brothers to a friend’s house.
She gathered the three boys close to her and said, “Have courage. The people aren’t mad at us. They just don’t know what to do. We’ll get to Papa and he’ll keep us safe.”
******
Martin collapsed into his chair. It groaned in greeting. His secretary brought him a cup of milk, which he accepted gratefully. The cocks were still crowing and he already felt like the day was long.
Constable Bekcek hovered on the other side of his desk. His eyes were bloodshot but glittering. He liked the excitement.
Martin waved a hand toward the door. “Well, go on and gather up your tough fellows so I can announce we’re hunting this thing. Maybe that’ll make that pissy pants mob go away,” Martin said. He took a drink. The milk would soothe his empty stomach. His nerves were quite disturbed after having to force his way through the upset throng in the square. He honestly sympathized with their terror, but the rabid demands of the common horde only made things worse. The pointed questions he was expecting from the Burgomeister later that day concerned him far more.
“Magistrate, this hunt’ll take more time than usual,” Bekcek said.
“Why?”
“It seems dogs won’t track it,” Bekcek answered.
“Well, do your best,” Martin muttered, not wishing to over think the uncanny news.
His constable nodded thoughtfully and left.
Martin’s secretary came back in with a leather bound folio full of parchments. It landed on the desk with a hefty thud.
“What’s that?” Martin asked.
“The office of the archbishop sent it over yesterday,” the secretary explained. “It’s the latest list of known heretics in Bohemia.”
Looking like he had just been told to eat worms, Mart
in undid the leather strap restraining the bundle of notices. He thumbed the edges of the pages but did not read anything.
“I’ll get to this at my soonest convenience,” he grumbled sarcastically.
He then told his secretary to cancel his entire Court schedule that day. The new situation with the murderous beast was surely going to be demanding all of his attention. After dismissing his secretary, he enjoyed the peacefulness in his office. The noise from the square was diminishing a little. He assumed the men-at-arms had finally shown up and were clearing the area. He pondered how he was going to shift around his budget to accommodate this emergency and schemed how best to wheedle more funds out of the city fathers, maybe even the crown if he got creative.
Familiar voices in the hall startled him. He was out of his chair when the secretary opened the door and Elias rushed in.
“Father, people are mobbing our house demanding to see you,” he cried.
Alarmed to see all of his children trooping into his office, Martin said, “Didn’t you tell them I was here?”
“They won’t listen! We were frightened. I decided to get us out of there,” Elias explained.
“Send men to make them go away,” Patrik said.
Altea came in last and set down Erik who ran to his father.
Martin told the secretary to arrange sending some men to his house.
“Why would they come to our house?” Elias asked.
Martin patted his eldest son on the shoulder. He was proud of Elias for taking decisive action but he could tell the boy was shocked by the irrationality of people.
“Men in important positions must sometimes suffer the inappropriate attention of underlings,” Martin said. “These attacks have people upset. They look to me to protect them.”
“Can you Papa?” Yiri asked.
“I’ll get it sorted out,” Martin said.
“Can you show us where you sit in the Court?” Yiri asked.
His swift change of subject bemused Martin, but he supposed he could indulge the request. His children had been frightened and perhaps it would reassure them.
“I’m very busy but why not squeeze in a tour?” Martin said. He led his sons out of the office, but Altea dallied. She did not feel the need to see where her stepfather sat in official judgment of people.
After glancing out in the hall to confirm Martin was actually going with his sons, she sauntered around his desk and sat in his chair. It was big and overstuffed. A surprising sensation of being magnificently important struck her as she bounced on the seat. Looking over his desk with its papers and books and selection of quills, she imagined what it must be like to be officially respected.
She pulled the thick leather folio close. The seal of the See of Prague was embossed on the cover. Flipping it open, she skimmed the cover letter. It was in Latin and she could not make much of it out. The next page bore the letterhead of the House of Rosenberg and was written in the imperial German, which she could read. She perked up when she realized it was a notice for a wanted criminal.
The dastardly details of Martin’s world tempted her curiosity.
“Be it declared that one Thal Lesky purportedly of Prague is wanted for crimes against Church and State.”
She covered her mouth. She had not told anyone about him, not even when he snooped by her home. Her brief interactions with the strange man were her secrets to savor, like deviant daydreams that divert the crushing tedium of life’s demanding routines.
She read onward.
“Hereby it is declared under an oathe to God that Captain Jan Bradcek a loyal servant of House Rosenberg swore that the guilty partie did worship the Devil and call upon unholy magiks to achieve a bestial state known commonly among the folk as a werewolf. In this corrupted form the changeling did assault decent men and steal from them. Furthermore it was reported that after his appearance new babes did sicken and die in villages adjoining Rosenberg Castle where the werewolf did manifest itself. Accused of crimes of heresy including but not limited to Devil worship, spell casting, shape shifting, animal intercourse, and thievery, he is to be captured and delivered to any authorities sacred or secular for the safety of all Christian citizens. A reward of twenty gold florins is offered by the House of Rosenberg to be delivered upon his presentation living or deceased to Rosenberg agents.”
Altea was trembling now. She had encountered a werewolf. And he was hunting her! Although truly shocked by the extent of his crimes, she believed that he did not hunt her with brutal motivations. He likely only wanted to speak to her again about his mother. These crimes attributed to Thal might be as unfair as the accusations that had condemned his mother. Altea still could not equate Gretchen with devilry, no matter how much evidence was presented.
She recalled the sorrow on Thal’s face when she had told him the grim truth about his mother’s demise. How could she not pity a child’s grief for his mother?
But perhaps her sympathies were leading her astray. Her doubts about Gretchen’s persecution were twisting her good sense. Thal had to be dangerous. She reread his list of crimes and accepted that he really could be a werewolf. It explained the howling over the city, but why did his song charm her so? Altea had no answer to explain her feelings. Even fearing that magic was afflicting her, she could not deny her impulse to protect Gretchen’s son. She owed the poor old woman that favor.
The reward of gold florins would surely catch Martin’s eye. She tore the page from the book. She flipped the leather cover back in place and put the book in its original position.
The chatter of her brothers in the hall warned her to hurry. Hastily she folded the parchment. Its crinkling seemed as loud as canons to her. She stuffed it in a pocket in her skirt. The gathered folds of fabric would hide it. Jumping up, she scooted away from Martin’s chair.
Her family entered the office. Erik and Yiri were blathering about what they had seen. All the boys were visibly reassured to be near their father, and Altea invisibly envied their closeness.
Martin grabbed his hat. “Altea, watch the boys. I’ll send someone for you once our house is protected,” he said.
She nodded. Martin assumed her silence was caused by fear and never suspected her guilt. He left quickly to dodge the pleas of his younger sons to stay.
Yiri pressed against Altea and hugged her waist. The stolen parchment crackled in her pocket. Its clandestine presence consumed her attention. She was confused by her desire to protect the mysterious man. To condemn him was her proper duty, but she hesitated to take the world’s word that he was evil. Her heart told her otherwise. Hopefully she would never find out either way because she feared to enter the unmapped kingdom of the truth.
Chapter 24. Holy Guidance
Vito stopped outside the room where Rainer was recuperating. Inside a brother was spooning him broth.
“I can tend Brother Rainer now. Go to your duties,” Vito said.
“He’s been sleepwalking again,” the monk said.
“I’ll pray with him until he can rest,” Vito said.
Once they were alone, Vito shut the door and pulled up a chair next to Rainer’s cot. Fresh straw on the floor helped brighten the musty room, but the chill of the smelly old building held the sunny morning at bay.
Rainer pulled his blanket up to his chin and shuddered.
“Did he come to you?” Vito whispered.
“Yes,” Rainer said guardedly. He was trying to avoid thinking about how profound his encounter with Thal had been. For the first time the hideous loneliness of his werewolf existence had been replaced with kinship, but he resisted the temptation of such corrupt comfort.
“What did he do?” Vito said, veiling his excitement poorly.
“He wanted to be with me,” Rainer said.
“Why didn’t he follow you here?” Vito said.
Rainer looked at the wall. “I don’t know,” he murmured.
His evasive demeanor tickled Vito with suspicion. Something had occurred between the beasts that Rainer did n
ot want to share.
Vito said, “Tonight you must find him and try again to lure him back here.”
Remembering the horror of being caged during a transformation, Rainer despised the thought of aiding in Thal’s capture. He touched the cross hanging around his neck and told himself to think of his soul. He could never be saved if he sided with the other werewolf. He must serve Christ.
“Brother Vito, what will you do when you catch him?” Rainer said.
Assuming Rainer was succumbing to his usual misplaced compassion, Vito said, “If I can, I will try to save him, like I do with you. If I could have a proper chance to speak with him again, maybe he would join us and serve our cause to cleanse his sins.”
The idea perked up Rainer. “Do you think he could accept Christ?” he said.
Vito nodded. “Remember his curiosity about us in Mirotice? He may be seeking God without even understanding. Perhaps there’s goodness left in his soul and he won’t have to be executed.”
“There is goodness,” Rainer said.
“Then I will pray that he can be redeemed, but either way it’s very important you bring him back here. He must accept Christ or pay for his Devil ways,” Vito said.
Rainer nodded thoughtfully. He wanted to believe that Thal would join with him in the service of Christ, but luring him into a trap remained uncomfortable for Rainer. What if Thal rejected Christ? Rainer did not want to imagine how that would make him feel.
“So I must seek him tonight,” Rainer said.
“Yes. And bring him back here,” Vito said although he now planned to send his sellswords to track Rainer.
“As you say,” Rainer said heavily. He only needed to get through one more night before the moon waned enough to release him for a few weeks.
Vito bade him to rest and went out. He meant to introduce himself to the Magistrate with whom he hoped to begin a productive relationship. He was well pleased with the mayhem Rainer had spread last night. The officials of Prague would surely be ready for holy guidance this morning.
On the streets men looked over their shoulders at Vito as he walked by. Clusters of women with their water buckets chattered with urgent vigor, and they snapped at their little children to stay close. Older wives dispensed opinions about the events of the night with sage confidence.
