by S. A. Swann
“What's wrong, son?”
“He needs to grow a spine,” Papa muttered from the other side of the bed, “and some common sense.”
“You be quiet,” Mama said.
“I heard her singing again,” Uldolf told his mother. Papa snorted.
“Radwen!” Mama snapped at him. She stood, taking Uldolf s hand. “Forgive your father. There are many things that worry him right now.”
From under the covers, Papa mumbled, “And phantom little girls are not one of them.”
Mama held Uldolf s hand all the way back to his room. “Now, what was she singing?”
“I never heard it before,” Uldolf said. “It was pretty, and sad.”
Mama opened the shutters on his window and looked outside. Uldolf s room was on the eastern side of the stronghold, opposite the village, so there were no streets or houses below. Below Uldolf s window was only a small patch of grass before the stronghold's inner wall, the massive timbers painted in a serpentine pattern that was bright even in the moonlight. Past the wall, the ground dropped away for a few hundred paces until it met Mejdân's dark outer wall—a much rougher structure of tree-sized logs, concealing the woods beyond.
She leaned out. “I don't see anyone now, Uldolf.”
Uldolf sat on his bed. “I heard her.”
“I'm sure you did, son.” She tucked him back in, pulling the covers over him. “But on warm nights like this, sound can travel far. I do not think she was as close as you thought.”
“She sounds so lonely.”
Mama kissed his brow. “You need to sleep, Uldolf.”
“Yes, Mama.”
She stood and turned to the window.
“Mama?”
“Yes?”
“Can you leave the shutters open tonight?”
She frowned slightly, then turned to look outside. “I suppose it's warm enough.” She turned away from the window and rustled his hair. “Now, you sleep. No more annoying your father.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Mama left him alone, closing the door, shutting out the light from the hallway. The unshuttered window let moonlight stream in. On the warm air he smelled horses, cook fires, and outhouses. He heard dogs barking, and the boots of guardsmen walking the inner wall.
And, soon, he heard her voice again. Low and sad, he knew that it was out there, whatever his mama said. Fear not the cloak of slumber, When the sky has lost its sun, Mother will protect her child,
“Should any nightmares come,” Uldolf whispered back into the darkness.
Sext
Anno Domini 1239
Quia os peccatoris et os dolosi super me apertum est:
locuti sunt adversum me lingua dolosa.
For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful
are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.
—Psalms 109:2
Chapter 16
Landkomtur Erhard von Stendal stood alone with the bodies the men had brought back from the woods. They had laid out the corpses in the chapel at Johannisburg Castle. The remains rested on two long tables, close to the altar. Despite the fact that these were not brothers of the Order, Erhard had told the priest to say the full office of the dead for both of them, and ordered his fellow knights to say the traditional one hundred Pater Nosters usually reserved for deceased brethren.
The dead—Karl Lindberg and one of his squires—weren't men he had known well. They were just examples of the petty lords and knights that chose to serve God for a few months in exchange for absolution and the favor of the Church.
Erhard concluded his own prayers in the presence of the corpses. He stood in the shadow of the chapel's simple cross, attempting to reconcile his twin feelings of guilt and cynicism.
It wasn't right to question a man's service to God, however that man came to serve. Such judgments were reserved for the Lord. Still, given what he did know about Karl Lindberg, Erhard certainly wouldn't characterize the man's service as joyful or without reservation.
And the way he had died did not testify to the man's righteous character.
The corpses were shrouded in preparation for burial, but Erhard had already seen the damage. At first, it appeared that it wasn't Lilly's doing. The wolfbreed killed with tooth and claw, rending their victims flesh from bone. Karl's squire bore not a mark on him other than the black bruise that encircled his neck. And while Karl Lindberg's face had been savaged, the marks in what was left of his cheek came from human teeth. Also, his manhood was taken with a bladed weapon—probably his own dagger, which was missing.
The assault was savage, but human. That meant it probably wasn't Lilly's doing, despite the missing silver collar.
However, if it was?
My hubris, Erhard thought.
Günter's men—that had been unprecedented. Before that point, none of the wolfbreed Erhard had taken to battle—not Lilly, nor any of the three siblings that followed her—had ever laid a hand on a Christian. The three others were years dead, but had all died in their service to God. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would have led Erhard to expect Lilly to turn against her masters.
So Erhard might be excused responsibility for the loss of Günter's men here.
But these two?
These deaths were upon him. He had his instructions; Lilly was to be exterminated. Was it his own moral weakness that made him order Lilly to be brought back for questioning? Was it asking too much, placing too high a price on his own doubts?
He needed to talk to her, but were his questions important enough to cost the lives of these men?
Erhard stood and walked over to the only other evidence of the debacle last night. The tattered remnants of a peasant woman's surcoat rested across one of the benches, where Erhard had left it during his devotions. Now that he had paid his respects, he picked it up and held it in his hands.
The front had been slit open, and the blood spattered upon it gave testament to Karl Lindberg's ill intentions.
Erhard had been all Lilly had; she knew nothing else, no other source of pleasure or happiness. Escape should have been inconceivable.
Could she still be here?
“Could she have gone insane?” he whispered.
Somehow, the prospect of her going mad was more ominous than the idea of her disobedience. He dismissed the thought. Not only was her mind as strong as her flesh, but her acts were not the acts of someone mad. She hadn't gone on the bloody rampage he would have expected. She had spent days planning and staging her escape. She had outmaneuvered her guards, and remained hidden.
He remembered telling her that for all her inhuman prowess, surprise was still her most potent weapon.
She had learned that lesson all too well.
He had seen what she could do when given rein to her blood-lust. Sergeant Günter thought he had seen carnage, but he was mistaken. Eight years ago, when this village was little more than a wooden stronghold held by a petty Prûsan nobleman, back when its name was Mejdân, that had been carnage. The wrath of God Himself had descended to this spot of ground, killing the occupants of this fortress—man, woman, and child. When the fire cleared and the Order had taken possession of the land, they counted more than fifty victims, but because the stronghold had burned, they probably never found all of them.
The slaughter had the desired effect, and the survivors accepted baptism almost to a man. In Johannisburg now, from what he had seen, the remaining Prûsan population rarely talked about the stronghold's fall. If they did, it was in hushed tones of superstitious dread. As if naming the evil might cause the demon to return.
Little did they suspect he had brought it back to them.
Perhaps that is why? Someone here spoke your name?
He would have laughed at himself, if he had any humor left. Lilly did not spontaneously abandon seventeen years of training, toss aside the will of her master, just because some ignorant villager uttered too much of what she had wrought here.
However, if her
escape was so calculated, why would she stay close to Johannisburg? Her wounds were healed by now. Enough that she would
have had little problem killing Karl and his squire, but also enough so she could quit Johannisburg and disappear into the countryside.
But why would Karl use the tore on a woman if he didn't believe, didn't /enow? That he did so, and ended up dead for his trouble ...
That itself argued that it was Lilly. And if so, something was keeping her here.
***
When he left the chapel, one of his brother knights was waiting for him by the doorway. The sun had set, and the bailey was deep in shadow.
“Have you been waiting for me long, Brother?”
“Not too long.” He handed Erhard a sealed message. “A messenger arrived while you were in prayer.”
He took the message and stepped back into the doorway where light leaked from the chapel's lanterns. Above him, bells began to ring Compline.
He hesitated before breaking the seal.
“Is there something wrong?”
Erhard shook his head. “No.” What had given him pause was the presence of a bishop's miter on the seal.
He opened the message, reading it several times before he lowered it. He looked back into the chapel and stared at the cross for several moments.
Your path is never easy.
“What is it, Brother Erhard?”
“We must make preparations for a guest.”
“Who?”
“A personal representative of the pope, Bishop Cecilio.”
Chapter 17
“Is this a good idea, son?” Uldolf s father leaned against the door frame and shook his head.
Inside the cottage Lilly stood by Burthe, chopping vegetables and humming to herself. Her hair shone black from a fresh attempt to color it. The scratches on her neck had faded to a few red lines. She showed no other sign of the ordeal she had been through four days ago.
Uldolf spoke low, because there was little question that Lilly understood their speech as well as anyone, even if she still had some difficulty talking. “I think we need to know more about what's going on with Lilly, don't you?” Uldolf looked away from Lilly, to his father. “We're actually ahead on planting because of her help. One field's sown, and you've got the horse done plowing so you can pull out the big harrow. You can spare me for a few days.”
Gedim grunted. “Ahead?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “By my count we lost two days because you had to run after her.”
“I know.”
“I'm not saying it's your fault, son,” Gedim said. “Or hers even. This is just a bad time.”
“The Germans will be back.”
“You're sure they ...” Gedim glanced over at Lilly. If Lilly heard their conversation, she showed no sign of it.
Uldolf still shook his head. It wasn't something they should talk about in her presence. Instead he told his father, “There will be rumors. Some word of where she came from, why they're searching for her.”
“You're right. I just wish she'd tell us herself where she belongs.” The way Gedim said it made Uldolf think that Gedim had begun to have the same suspicions that Uldolf had. The thought that Lilly had escaped from something too painful for her to dwell upon.
I suppose we both know about that sort of thing.
“I'll find out,” Uldolf said.
“Perhaps I should be the one to go.”
“No.” He whispered it loud enough that he heard Lilly stop chopping. Gedim narrowed his eyes at Uldolf.
“No.” Uldolf lowered his voice. “Better I go. Then the farm's only losing one arm, not two. And, it's better that the head of the house is here, if the soldiers come back.”
His father frowned. “I suppose ...”
Uldolf could see that his father suspected that he had another motive. Uldolf just hoped that he wouldn't press him about it. He told them of the soldiers, and what they must have done to Lilly, and he told them of the animal attack that must have given Lilly the chance to escape. But he hadn't told his parents everything, specifically omitting the presence of the dagger, or the silver collar.
He hid those because he knew that his parents would think it too dangerous to try to sell them. Yes, he wanted to find out where Lilly came from, but if a satchel he had made from some old saddlebags could give them a week's worth of venison, the silver in those two items could feed them through next winter. There were markets frequented only by Prûsans, and Uldolf was sure he could sell both outside the notice of any Germans.
Perhaps more important, it would mean that his family could get along without him for a while. That was going to be important, if it turned out that Lilly needed to be taken somewhere far away—either toward her household, or, the way things were starting to look, away from it.
Either way, keeping her on the farm couldn't last, not with all the soldiers searching for her. Wherever she needed to go, it was almost certain that Uldolf would have to take her there, soon.
***
The next morning, Uldolf set out on the walk to Johannisburg. A brisk pace would put him there somewhere after midday. In addition to the dagger and the collar, he brought a sack of hare and rabbit skins that should help pay his way. He would have liked to take the elk hide, but it might raise the question at the gate how he had come by it.
He had barely stepped out onto the road when he heard a voice from behind him. “Ulfie!”
He sighed and turned around. “Lil—”
She ran up and threw her arms around his chest, knocking the breath out of him and almost toppling him over. He gasped and patted her on the back. “It's fine. I'm just going to town. I'll be back soon.”
“Stay,” she murmured into his chest.
He stroked her hair. “I have to go.”
She looked up at him. “I—I—” She frowned, lip trembling. “Stay!”
“It's only a few days. I'll be back.” He smiled and touched her cheek. “Don't you want us to find out who you are, where your family is?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Uldolf took a step back out of her embrace. He smiled and tried to look reassuring. “I'll be back. I promise.”
He turned to take a step down the road. Lilly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
She stared into his eyes. Her gaze was sad, lonely, and questioning. A flush had come to her cheeks, and for a moment it seemed she had stopped breathing. He brushed a loose strand of black-dyed hair from her cheek. I'm not abandoning you. Whatever demons haunt your past, whoever you really are, I won't abandon you.
You know that, don't you?
“Lilly?” he whispered. “I—”
Before he could get another word out, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips and tongue melted into his so quickly that she was pulling away before he realized what she had done. But she left behind a heat that felt as if it burned all the way to the core of his body.
He glanced up and saw his parents standing by the wall, watching him. Great...
Lilly grabbed his shirt in her fist and pounded on his chest. “Come back.” He looked back at her.
“You come back,” she repeated. “I want you to come back.”
He reached up and untangled her hand from his shirt. “I told you I would. Why wouldn't I come back?”
She took a step back and shook her head. “It's bad to remember.”
He sighed and decided to ignore his parents watching them. He reached down and cupped her chin, lowered his face, and kissed her back. He saw her eyes wide with surprise as he pulled back, and felt a selfish pleasure in surprising her exactly the same way she had surprised him.
“I don't care about your past,” he whispered. “I just care about you.”
She threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. She whispered something into his chest that sounded like “I don't want to lose you again.”
Again?
He took a moment to disengage himself and said, “I have to go.” Lilly nodded.
“Don't give my parents any trouble,” Uldolf said. “And be nice to Hilde.”
She looked down at the road with a posture so dejected that Uldolf s heart ached. It almost made him reconsider.
“Please, Lilly, don't run away again.”
She looked up at him.
“Please? Promise?”
Lilly nodded, and said, “I—I promise.”
***
The day was warm—the fifth sunny day since the thunderstorm—but the center of the road was still a semiliquid mess of mud and manure. Uldolf walked as close to the edge as he could. For a road that only led to the local farms and a few good hunting spots, there had been a lot more mounted traffic than usual.
Could it all be for Lilly? It didn't make any sense, even with accusations of witchcraft and murder. There were plenty of murderers in the woods outside Johannisburg's protection—and plenty of witches for that matter, that being the term the Christians used for anyone who actively practiced the old religion.
None of that had ever aroused such attention before.
However, the closer he got to Johannisburg, the more trampled and muddy the road became. He had to walk almost in the woods just to keep his boots on his feet.
“Has your farm been troubled lately, lad?” the knight Gregor had said.
“Troubled?”
“By strange beasts? Men or animals killed or injured?”
Strange beasts? Like the one that had killed the elk?
He kept an eye on the woods as he walked. He had a sick feeling that he had seen signs of it, in the woods with those soldiers who had attacked Lilly. The one man had been savaged by something.
Thinking of such an animal, claws, teeth, fetid breath hot on his face ...
Uldolf stumbled into the road, heart racing, remembering ...
***
Make way, you fool!”
Uldolf turned around and saw a line of horsemen bearing down on him.
“Make way for the representative of His Holiness!”
