by J. K. Swift
Thomas stared at her. His dark eyes big and round, begging her to do something for his friend. She put her hand once again to Pirmin’s heart, though she did not know why.
“I am sorry, Thomas,” she said, shaking her head.
He closed his eyes, and after a moment, nodded.
Pirmin moaned again and his leg spasmed.
“Can you do something for the pain?” Thomas asked.
But Seraina was already reaching into her pouch. She popped a handful of ditch nettle leaves into her mouth and chewed them quickly, taking care not to swallow. Once moistened, she spit the leaves into her hand and formed them into a ball.
“Help me open his mouth,” she said. Together they tipped Pirmin’s head back and Seraina wiped his gums and the insides of his cheeks with the leaves.
Pirmin coughed once and his eyes fluttered. “Mathias?” he said.
Seraina held the big man’s head in her lap and Thomas scrambled around to his side.
“Pirmin. It is me, Thomas.”
He grunted and his eyes opened halfway. “No need to yell at me,” he said.
His voice was thin, not much more than a whisper. He closed his eyes and opened them again.
“Thomi? Ah, Thomi. I was wondering when you would appear.”
“Save your strength, Pirmin. I am here. So is Seraina.”
“Stay still,” Seraina said, using the power of her voice to bring him some small amount of comfort.
“They put me to the Ordeal,” Pirmin said and tried to move his left arm, which only caused him to grimace in pain.
“I know,” Thomas said.
“It did not go so well.”
Thomas’s mouth stretched into a smile. “You did well enough.”
“Had to use my sinister arm. Right was hurt too bad.”
“That explains it then,” Thomas said.
He closed his eyes for a few heartbeats, and when he opened them they appeared clearer. Seraina could see the ditch nettle was in his system now.
“They got Vex.”
Seraina placed her hand on Pirmin’s forehead and said, “No, Vex is fine. Noll saved him. Do not worry yourself over him, Pirmin.”
Relief washed over his agonized face. Whether it was because his dog was safe or the herb was dulling his pain, Seraina could not be sure.
“I wish to confess,” he said.
“And I will hear it,” Thomas said, his voice breaking around the edges. “Go ahead.”
“I did some bad things. But I did a lot of good things too. I hope God will take that into account.”
Thomas waited for Pirmin to continue. After a long pause Pirmin said, “Say your piece Thomi.”
“That is your confession?”
“One other thing.” He turned his head and looked at Thomas. “I lied to you, Thomi.”
“That does not matter.”
“I never intended to go to Wallis. I would have missed your miserable face too much. I think I made up most of those stories…”
Thomas nodded. His eyes glistened in the torchlight.
“The fighting cows?”
“Nay. That one is true,” Pirmin said. He ground his teeth together against a fresh wave of pain. Thomas held Pirmin’s right hand and the big man clenched with what little strength he had left. His face cleared after a moment, but was a shade whiter. Even though he took a deep breath, his next words shuddered forth like his lungs had all the air of a spent bellows.
“Do not mourn me, Thomi. I lived enough for ten men…just promise me you will live enough for one.”
Pirmin’s eyes slowly closed. His breathing became less labored, and the muscles in his face relaxed.
“I will,” Thomas said under his breath.
Seraina felt tears building as she watched Thomas make the sign of the cross above Pirmin and then go on to absolve him of all the sins he had committed in this life. It was a ritual she did not understand, but she appreciated seeing the comfort it brought to Thomas.
Pirmin never opened his eyes again. When he died a few moments later, Seraina felt a great saddening within the Weave; a collective tremor that only occurred with the loss of one who had touched a great many. The world would be a poorer place without Pirmin Schnidrig, until the Weave could usher in the likes of him once again. It may take years, but it would happen.
They sat with him for a few minutes more and then Seraina convinced Thomas they had to leave. Judge Furst would see that Pirmin was removed from the cell and buried properly, not simply thrown on the garbage heap outside the walls. She promised.
Seraina led Thomas out of the cell and back to the door that opened into a corner of the fortress’s courtyard. She threw open the door and pulled Thomas behind her into the bright mid-day sun.
Into the midst of a dozen armed soldiers with crossbows and bristling spear points leveled their way.
“Welcome to the light,” Duke Leopold said.
Chapter 34
“THAT IS NOT Melchthal,” Landenberg said, disappointment heavy in his words. He rammed his sword back into its sheath.
“Bring them before me,” Leopold said. A page stood behind him holding two saddled mounts, one for him and the other for Gissler. Leopold was to return to Habsburg this day, but when he got news that Walter Furst had been caught stealing keys to the jails, he decided to postpone his journey for a short while.
“Wait!” Gissler stepped forward and shouted at the soldiers surrounding Thomas and Seraina. “No one take another step. Remove your belt knife, Thomas.”
“You know this man?” Leopold took a closer look at the man and woman who had emerged from the prisons. He had seen the girl before, but could not place where. The man however, he was sure he did not know. His scarred face would not have been easy to forget.
Gissler nodded, but did not look at the Duke. His eyes were fixed on the man he called Thomas.
“Aye, my lord. And he is not a man you want within arm’s reach of a dagger.”
At first Leopold thought the man might be simple, the way his head was bowed, and his movements unsteady. But when he turned his face up and met Gissler’s eyes with a cold glare, Leopold immediately recognized him as a soldier.
“Yet another Hospitaller? It is no wonder the Holy wars go badly—you are all here.”
“Pirmin is dead,” Thomas said. The words, quiet and menacing, were directed at Gissler.
Leopold was not surprised by this news. He had seen the man’s wounds, but Gissler flinched, and did not immediately respond.
“He chose his path,” Gissler finally said. “Do not make his mistakes your own. Resist and it will not go well for you,” he nodded in the girl’s direction, “or your pretty friend.”
Thomas assessed the situation with fresh eyes, seeing the spear points within thrusting distance of himself and his companion. Leopold had no doubt that if Thomas were alone, his actions would have been quite different. As it was, however, he edged his hand away from his knife handle and undid the clasp on his belt. He held it out and a soldier hooked it with the point of his sword and backed away. The soldiers pushed them to the center of the courtyard, where Leopold, Gissler, and Landenberg stood.
“On your knees. You are in the presence of your rulers,” Landenberg said, he sidled closer to Leopold, giving the girl a lascivious stare. She held her head up high and refused to meet the eyes of either man. Leopold smiled. Landenberg would have his hands full indeed if he tried to take this one.
“Bend your knee,” Landenberg repeated. When neither the man nor the woman moved to do so, a soldier forced them down by rapping each one in turn between their shoulder blades with the butt end of his spear.
A crowd was beginning to gather. Work on the walls had come to a standstill since Landenberg had pulled some of the guards away to ambush who he had assumed was Arnold Melchthal, come to rescue his outlaw lieutenant. It was a motley group: condemned men and women, paid laborers, master masons, and even the parish priest of Altdorf milled about curious to see wh
at the commotion was about. It was also market day in Altdorf, so the town was busier than normal. Since the fortress was situated just outside of town, vendors had been coming and going from the fortress with their wares since early morning.
“They caught the witch!” a woman said. “As I thought, she is in league with the ferryman.”
Leopold turned to see an old woman pointing at the auburn-haired girl on her knees. “I knew God was listening,” the woman continued. She ran forward and spit at the side of the girl’s head. She flinched and regarded her assailant with a hurt look in her striking green eyes. People began murmuring, and the word ‘witch’ traveled through the mob like wildfire.
Interesting development, Leopold thought. He turned to Gissler.
“Return to the stable master and procure a cage wagon, with two guards provisioned for the road. And find Bernard. Tell him to pack my manuscript in the wagon and follow us as soon as he is able.”
The soldiers opened their circle and Gissler pushed away into the crowd.
“She-Devil!”
The old woman took another run at the girl, but Landenberg intervened and pushed her away.
“Get the Menznau woman away from here,” he said to a soldier. The man turned his spear sideways and was about to push the woman away when Leopold spoke up.
“Hold on. Mother, are you accusing this girl of witchcraft?”
The old woman fell to her knees and clasped her hands before her chest. “I do my lord. She said she would help my son, instead she fed his soul to the Devil!”
Gasps could be heard from the onlookers.
The girl shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, it is not so. I never even saw—” Landenberg cut the girl off with a hard slap, and her hand went to her mouth. His breathing quickened at the sight of a thin line of blood from her lip and the remains of his handprint on her skin. The man, Thomas, reached out to her, and simultaneously narrowed his dark eyes at Landenberg.
“Do not speak in front of your betters, girl.” Turning to Leopold he said, “Perhaps we should search her for the Devil’s mark, my lord.”
“Seraina is no witch!” Thomas said.
Landenberg raised his arm and stepped forward.
“Stay your hand, Vogt,” Leopold said. “The man is a Hospitaller. He has earned the right to speak.”
Landenberg grunted and stepped back.
“So tell us. Why do you defend this woman when she has so many accusers? A man of God should know better.” Leopold said.
“She has done nothing. I demand you set her free.”
Landenberg laughed. “Not bloody likely. Better chance of pissing uphill in a föhn.”
Thomas slowly eased himself off the ground to his feet and locked eyes with Leopold. The soldier next to Leopold followed Thomas’s every move with his crossbow.
“I am Thomas Schwyzer, a Captain of the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem, subject only to the commands of His Eminence, the Pope. In His name and that of our Lord Jesus Christ, I demand you set this woman free and trouble her no more.”
The crowd was silent. More than a few crossed themselves. Leopold was impressed with the faith and conviction he heard in Thomas’s words, but he also sensed something else. Desperation perhaps?
“Well, Thomas…Schwyzer was it? Hardly a blue-blooded name. I would think someone of your exalted rank could do better. But putting that aside for the moment, I certainly do not wish to upset the Pope, in the off chance you do indeed have His ear.”
He raised his voice and addressed the crowd. “So I offer you a chance to prove yourself. Here, in front of these good people of Altdorf and in the presence of God.”
The crowd erupted into a chorus of shouts and cheers.
Now, where was that damned Bernard?
Chapter 35
SERAINA’S KNEES ached and although her lip had ceased bleeding, her face still throbbed from Landenberg’s blow. She heard someone curse her name, and the word ‘witch’ rang out all around her. The energy of the crowd was dizzying and she felt herself panic. She closed her eyes, but found no peace in the darkness, for the image of the villagers of Tellikon feeding a crippled newborn into flames only became so much more vivid.
She thought of running. If she could make it to the trees she would have a chance, for they would conceal her. But her heart fell when she craned her neck and saw nothing but broken walls and open land in all directions. Killing fields,the engineers called them. It had been a moment of fantasy, for she knew she could not leave Thomas.
“Do you know the story of Palnatoki?” Leopold asked Thomas, but he spoke in a voice that carried throughout the crowd. A soldier at each of his arms held crossbows loaded and aimed at Thomas’s head. Others formed a circle to keep the crowd of people in order.
“It was a favorite of mine as a child, told to me by my father’s greatest military advisor. His storytelling abilities, I must say, rivaled his military genius.”
Thomas glanced at Seraina. His hard expression melted for the briefest of moments.
“I think I like this one,” Landenberg said. “Palnatoki was a warrior in Dane’s Land, am I right?”
Leopold blinked, obviously surprised.
“Right you are. But he was much more than a simple warrior. He was the bravest, fiercest, most skilled soldier in the land. So skilled, that his own king became jealous of his exploits and plotted against him.”
As he spoke Leopold began walking. The guards opened up the circle for him.
“One day, when Palnatoki was drunk, the king overheard him boasting about his archery abilities. He claimed he could shoot an apple off the end of a stick at a hundred paces. The king called him on his claim, saying he would not have liars in his personal guard.”
Leopold stopped beside one of the saddled horses his page still held, and rooted through its saddlebags.
“The king arranged a test.” Leopold pulled out a red apple and held it up for all to see, and then pushed his soldier’s spears aside and re-entered the circle. He stopped in front of Seraina. He reached down and put his fingers under her chin like he was caressing a lover. Seraina twisted her head away and averted her eyes. She heard Landenberg’s deep-throated laugh.
“Stand her up,” Leopold said. A large, one-eyed soldier grabbed her left arm and a smaller man her right, and they jerked her to her feet. Her legs ached as the blood returned to them and she stumbled. The soldier with the patch put his arms around her from behind and chuckled as he ground himself against her. Seraina broke free of his grip and pushed him back. He winked at her and grinned with a mouth full of broken yellow teeth.
Landenberg had watched her brief struggle with interest.
“Think your legs are weak now, girl? Wait till you spend the night in my jails.” He laughed at his own joke until he caught Leopold staring at him.
“I will continue my story,” Leopold said, “if your courtship is over.”
Chastised, Landenberg nodded and stared at the ground.
“The king called in Palnatoki’s young son and placed the apple on his head. He then told Palnatoki he had one shot to prove himself. The archer removed three arrows from his quiver, and on his first try, split the apple in two. The king then asked him why he took three arrows when he was allowed only one.”
Leopold tossed the apple up once and caught it. He turned to Thomas. “And do you know what he said?”
“To avenge myself on thee, in the event that I caused harm to my boy,” Thomas said, as though reading the words. “It is a common enough tale.”
“It is good you are familiar with it,” Leopold said. “As you may already suspect, we shall use it as the basis for my test.”
Seraina could see Thomas’s jaw muscles twitch, but he said nothing.
“You and I together shall play the part of Palnatoki. There will be no evil king in our story.” He smiled and held up the apple. “Only two heroes.”
“This is how it shall work. We place the apple on the witch’s head and take turns s
hooting until one of us hits it. The apple, I mean.”
“You are mad,” Thomas said.
“God will protect the girl if she is truly innocent. If, however, she is a witch, well…we will just have to see. Now, since you are in my future home, I give you the choice. Would you prefer to shoot first or second?”
“I refuse,” Thomas said. “This is utter madness. The girl is innocent.”
“Fine. I will shoot first.” Leopold grabbed a loaded crossbow from the nearest guard and as he did so his hand brushed the tickler and the bow went off. Everyone within earshot of the loud twang ducked or flinched not sure where the bolt was going. But Leopold had had it pointed at the ground and the heavy shaft thudded harmlessly into the hard earth.
Leopold smiled at Thomas. “I suppose it has been some years since I last shot one of these. But I expect it will come back quickly enough. Someone load me another quarrel.”
Seraina knew what Leopold was doing, as, she suspected, did everyone else watching the young Duke.
“Thomas,” she said.
His face turned and their eyes met. The weight bearing down on each of them lifted for the briefest of moments. She stepped away from her captors and walked to stand in front of Leopold. Ever so slowly she reached out her hand and plucked the apple from Leopold’s grasp. His lips spread into a thin line and he mocked her with a bow.
“Seraina, no…” Thomas began, but she leaned in and put her finger to his lips.
“Do not let him choose my fate,” she said. “I would leave that to the Weave. And you, Thomas.”
She backed away a few steps and then the guards were on her arms once again. They led her in the direction of the main keep and left her standing in an open work site with shattered rocks and dusty ground chewed up by the hooves of oxen. The only flower she could see was a half-trampled autumn crocus.
A naked lady, bent and withered.
***
Leopold handed Thomas a drawn crossbow with no bolt and showed him where to stand. Anticipation was growing in the crowd, and Leopold could feel the people’s excitement building and mixing with his own. Gissler had returned with the cage wagon, and he now stood holding the horses, a scowl on his face. He was not a man who appreciated theatrics, Leopold decided.
