The Piper's Pursuit

by Melanie Dickerson

  This was her opportunity. She said quickly, “And thank you for stepping in front of him when he pounced.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. As she suspected, he was grinning on one side of his mouth, one brow lifting in a jocular expression.

  She clamped her lips closed. She would not give him the satisfaction of admitting he had saved her life. She had saved herself too many times, and she’d long prided herself on never giving in to what men wanted. She wasn’t about to start giving in to this one.

  “Why will you not say it?”

  “Because we helped each other. We both killed the beast. And if you don’t be quiet, I may leave you here to bleed to death.”

  “It’s not bleeding that much.” His voice was cheerful, without the least bit of anger or resentment at her refusal to give him what he wanted. “Is your healer any good? I have a recipe for a wound remedy. It’s said to heal wounds without fail, a curative against any putridness or fever. Perhaps your healer could make some of it.”

  “I have heard of this remedy. The maker of it was accused of witchcraft.”

  “Yes, but she was found innocent.”

  Steffan suddenly seemed thoughtful and fell silent. She glanced over her shoulder and saw he was staring at the ground, his brows drawn together.

  She shouldn’t ask him about it. A lack of curiosity was a safeguard against trouble. But she asked anyway. “This was your brother’s mother-in-law who created this healing salve? She is still alive?”

  He drew in a slow breath before answering. “She was alive when I left them nearly a year ago.”

  “Where did you leave them?”

  “On the border of Poland and Germany, near Thornbeck. My brother was awarded a castle and lands by Duke Konrad of Poland. Wolfgang and his wife, Mulan, live there with Mulan’s mother, who is a healer.”

  “I have heard of this Mulan. She was a warrior.” Like me.

  “Yes. She was a soldier and a captain of the duke’s guard. You remind me of her.”

  Her heart lifted at the compliment.

  “But she is rather more . . .”

  “More what?” Again foolish curiosity got the better of her.

  “Well, she was fierce in battle, but kinder and more sweetly mannered.”

  How dare he say that to me! But no doubt it was true. Kindness, at least toward men, was not something she had ever been able to afford. Her father had left them with nothing when he died, and her mother . . . Well, she had been young and foolish and had not protected either herself or Kat very well. Kat learned very early that protecting herself and her mother was more important than being kind. When had men been kind to her? Men could not be trusted. She had learned this lesson well.

  Steffan touched her shoulder. She flinched and spun to face him.

  He stared into her eyes. “A man hurt one of my sisters. After that she was different. Quieter and easily startled. There was a look in her eyes, just like the look I sometimes see in yours.”

  What did he mean by saying that? He had no right to assume . . .

  She was a little angry, but at the same time, the look in his eyes made her want to lean in, to trust him, the same feeling she’d had when she nearly threw her arms around him after he protected her from the wolf.

  She was being foolish. “You know nothing about me.” She barely recognized her own voice, as hoarse and gruff as it was.

  She turned away from him and continued walking, even faster this time. She had to get away from this man. He unsettled her. One moment she was annoyed, and the next she felt soft and warm inside, something she’d never felt around a man before. Only her horse made her feel similarly, when he nudged her and snuffled against her shoulder.

  But one thing was certain—she could trust her horse, but she didn’t trust Steffan.

  * * *

  Someone had hurt Katerina. An animal was only acting on its natural instincts when it attacked and harmed someone. But what kind of human being could harm Katerina? Steffan imagined putting some fear in that person if he ever dared harm her again.

  His arm, which had been almost numb since he was injured, was starting to send sharp pains shooting up to his shoulder. Now his whole forearm throbbed. Blood still dripped off his arm, but it wasn’t bleeding quite as much as before.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, Katerina stopped and pointed at him. “Wait here.” Then she turned and disappeared around the side of an enormous tree. He heard a sound like wood scraping against wood, then she reappeared with a cloth bag in her hand. She set it on the ground, rummaged around inside, and pulled out a roll of bandages.

  “We need to wrap that arm.” Her face seemed to be made of stone, her eyes never lifting above the height of his injury. She stepped forward. He held out his arm and she began wrapping it, rather tightly, somehow managing not to touch his skin even once.

  “Do you have supplies stored away behind every tree?”

  “Not behind every tree.” Her expression didn’t change and she didn’t look up, so he was able to study her face.

  Her lips and chin were delicate and perfectly shaped. The curve of her cheek was feminine, her skin pale, her eyes mysterious, and her lashes dark. One would never imagine she could stab a giant, raging wolf with a crossbow bolt and then a mere half an hour later wrap a wound with steady hands.

  He’d felt a strange tension from her ever since they’d killed the beast. At one moment he thought she might throw her arms around him. The next, she was coldly turning away, refusing to look at him. He wished he could see inside her mind.

  “Thank you.” He bent his head, trying to get her to look at him. “For bandaging my arm.”

  She glanced at him. He captured her eyes with his, willing her to reveal her thoughts. She did stare back at him, her mouth going slack. But then she quickly glanced away.

  “It’s a little tight,” she said, pulling out a knife from her bag and cutting the end of the bandage into a smaller strip; she then tied it around the bandage to keep it in place. “But it will be fine until you can get to the healer’s house in town. It’s on Butcher Street.”

  A cracking noise, as when a man steps down on a dry, leafy twig, made them both jerk their heads in the direction of the sound.

  A strong breeze sent the leaves in the upper branches of the trees dancing and chattering like the rapid waters of a stream. When the wind died down, they both kept still, listening, but heard nothing but a lone bird singing.

  Katerina turned and marched off toward the town.

  He trotted after her. “Will you show me the healer’s house?” He wasn’t ready to part from her.

  “Very well.”

  They entered the town gate. Katerina’s eyes alighted on each guard in turn. Was she searching for a particular guard?

  Katerina moved on. She was nearing her stepfather’s house when two large, burly men came out.

  Katerina slowed her pace, then halted. Just when she did, the men caught sight of them and hurried toward them. One of the two men was Otto.

  By the look on Katerina’s face, she was thinking of running from them. Steffan rested his hand on his sword hilt. But instead, Katerina stayed where she was and faced them.

  “The Bürgermeister wishes to see you,” one of the men said, looking from Steffan to Katerina and back. “Both of you.”

  Katerina and Steffan continued on with the guards on either side of them.

  Soon they entered the mayor’s house and were led into a small room where Hennek stood staring at a large sheet of parchment in his hands. He quickly folded the parchment, shoved it into a wooden box on the table in front of him, and slammed the lid closed.

  Hennek’s cheeks were red, and he widened his eyes when he saw them, then quickly coughed and broke into a smile—a smile that looked brittle and forced.

  Steffan’s hand went to his sword hilt again.

  “Ach! So, you have killed the beast!” Hennek’s voice boomed and his arms went wide, his eyes focused on Steffa
n. “My men just reported they saw a beast lying dead in the forest and the two of you walking away from it. I suppose I know what your motive was, eh? The reward?” He raised his brows and jerked his head in Katerina’s direction.

  “The Beast of Hamlin is indeed dead,” Steffan said, though it was strange that Hennek’s men had seen the dead beast so quickly after they’d killed it. Perhaps Otto had been closer behind them than they’d thought? It pained him a bit, but by the horror and, yes, fear, that flickered over Katerina’s face, he knew what he had to do.

  “I did not kill the beast. Katerina did.”

  “What did you say?” Hennek stared, openmouthed.

  Katerina’s mouth also dropped open, and she turned to face him.

  Steffan swallowed a lump—his pride, no doubt—that rose into his throat.

  Hennek sputtered, unable to form a coherent word.

  “I cannot claim the generous reward, I’m afraid. Katerina slayed the giant wolf with her crossbow bolt.”

  The look on Katerina’s face—shock, a softening, gratitude shining in her beautiful eyes—was worth the half-truth and blow to his ego.

  He smiled and shrugged. “She is a fearless huntress and slayer of giants.” Then he winked at her.

  Winking might have been a bad idea, as her expression suddenly morphed to a scowl.

  Hennek blustered a moment more, then narrowed his eyes at Katerina. “Is this true? Did you kill the beast?”

  “We both did. That is, Lord Steffan helped.”

  “Well, if Lord Steffan struck the fatal blow, he is still entitled to the reward. He deserves your hand in marriage.” He glared at his stepdaughter.

  “I am sure it was Katerina who landed the killing blow, Herr Bürgermeister.”

  “You are sure of this? Because I—”

  “Quite sure.”

  “Well then.” Uncharacteristically, Hennek fell silent.

  Steffan glanced at Katerina. Her eyes met his for a moment. They both knew that killing the beast had not accomplished much of anything. The children were still missing, and there was a second beast. But something kept him from mentioning that fact to Hennek.

  Seven

  Katerina’s heart still pounded. Steffan had proclaimed her to be the slayer of the Beast of Hamlin. He could have downplayed her role in the killing and claimed Hennek’s reward. Instead, he’d made sure Katerina was safe from Hennek’s badgering—or trying to force her—to wed Steffan. And this, after all the rude and accusatory things she’d said to him.

  She glanced askance at him. What manner of man was he? Or did he have some less noble reason for denying his own role in the slaying of the beast? But in this moment she wanted to believe his motive was pure.

  Hennek was clearing his throat. For once in his life, he didn’t know what to say. No doubt he was confused that someone would give up a reward.

  Steffan was saying, “If you wished to give me half the reward—five hundred silver guilders instead of a thousand—I would not object to that.”

  So he was still a mercenary.

  Hennek laughed. “How about I strike a new deal with you. If you are able to rid the town of all the rats, the reward is yours. Is that not a most generous offer?”

  “I will accept the reward for getting rid of your rat problem.”

  Was he willing to allow Hennek to force her to marry him after all?

  Steffan glanced in her direction. She did her best to warn him with her eyes. If you think you can force me to marry you, you will meet the sharp edge of my knife blade.

  He half frowned, half smiled at her harsh look, then winked again.

  The man thought he was charming. Kat allowed an uncharming snort to escape her.

  “You may yet get to marry a duke’s son, Katerina!” Hennek roared with laughter, an exaggerated reaction to his own jest. But his laugh sounded fake and even angry.

  Until now, she’d been thinking Steffan was safe from Hennek, that Hennek would want to impress him and send him back to Hagenheim with a glowing report of what a good man the Mayor of Hamlin was. But Steffan wasn’t leaving. And if he truly wanted to help her find out what was happening to the children of Hamlin, as he said he did, then there was no knowing what Hennek might do to him. Hennek wasn’t just angry that Steffan hadn’t accepted the reward for killing the Beast of Hamlin. He was angry that Steffan was still there.

  Suddenly she remembered Steffan’s arm.

  “Lord Steffan was injured,” Katerina said, interrupting Hennek. “I shall show him to the healer’s house.”

  “What?” Hennek looked confused.

  Steffan raised his sleeve. “The beast took a bit of flesh before succumbing.”

  A few spots of blood had seeped through the bandage.

  “Ho ho! A few more scars to add to your collection, eh?”

  Steffan shrugged. “They make for good stories to tell at the alehouse.”

  “Ah, yes! Of course, of course.”

  Katerina took two steps toward the door, and as she’d intended, Steffan followed.

  Hennek called out nonsensical warnings, laughing at his own inept jests, as they left and went in the direction of the healer’s house. She walked in silence, trying to figure out how to warn Steffan that his life was in danger.

  * * *

  Steffan followed Katerina, who kept up a brisk pace. She turned right down a side street and then left and then right again. Then they went down a street that smelled of freshly slaughtered meat. Past two butchers’ shops, Katerina pointed to a doorway.

  “You will come inside with me, won’t you?”

  Katerina opened her mouth and hesitated. Then she stepped forward and knocked on the door.

  An older woman answered and invited them in.

  “Frau Windmoeller, this is Lord Steffan. He was bitten by the Beast of Hamlin.”

  The old woman’s face was wrinkled and leathery, but her pale, wizened eyes fixed on his arm and she turned and said, “Come in.”

  They followed her to a room with shelves full of glass vials, leather flasks, brass bowls, and lidded pots.

  “Sit.”

  Steffan lowered himself onto the edge of a narrow bed while Frau Windmoeller sat on a stool in front of him.

  She grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard with her bony fingers. “Is this your only wound?”

  “Yes.” Thanks to Katerina. If she hadn’t stabbed the beast with her crossbow bolt, the animal probably would have torn out his throat.

  Frau Windmoeller asked Katerina to fetch some things while the old woman unwrapped the bandage. Then Katerina poured water over the wound, which burned and stung even more when Frau Windmoeller used her fingers to rub the blood off. But he would rather bite his tongue off than let Katerina hear him cry out.

  The woman peered so close to his arm that he was sure the tip of her nose would touch his skin. Then she fixed her eyes on his face. “We don’t want to lose you to a putrid infection like Herr Otfried a few months ago. That beast has poison in its fangs.” Suddenly she turned to Katerina.

  “Did you kill it?”

  “We did,” Katerina answered.

  “Glory to God. What was it? A dog? A wolf?”

  “It was a wolf, but tall and more muscular.”

  Would Katerina tell her that they’d seen a second wolf just like it? Such a thing would be almost unbelievable. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Katerina opened her mouth as if to speak, but then looked at him and said nothing.

  The healer turned back to Steffan. “I shall clean it.”

  Hadn’t she already cleaned it? She uncorked a flask and he smelled strong spirits. She poured the brown liquid over the puncture wounds.

  Burning pain seared his arm. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, then coughed in an attempt to mask his reaction. Finally, she started rewrapping the wound.

  When the healer had finished with his arm and Katerina had answered her questions about killing the wolf, his arm was hurting worse
than ever.

  “Take some wine for the pain,” the healer said as she put her bandages away. “That will be five silver pfennigs.” She stared him in the eye without blinking.

  Steffan’s stomach sank. He had not one single coin on him. What did he have that was equal the value of five pfennigs? He couldn’t give her his knife, as he needed it. He possessed very little else besides his horse.

  “I shall bring you—”

  He was about to say “a pheasant,” but Katerina handed Frau Windmoeller five silver pfennigs before he could get the words out.

  Katerina turned and started walking to the door.

  “Thank you, Frau Windmoeller.” Steffan hurried after Katerina.

  “Thank you for paying the healer,” Steffan said as he caught up with her. “I owe you five pfennigs.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  They were nearly to one of the main streets when Katerina suddenly stopped and backed up against the brick wall of a warehouse. Her gaze darted in every direction before settling on his face.

  “I believe your life is in danger if you come back with me to my stepfather’s house.” Her dark eyes were intense. Her gaze faltered as she spoke, then bore into his again. “You should go. Just leave here and go back to Hagenheim, and when you do, tell your father that many things are amiss here in Hamlin, and if he cares for the people of Hamlin at all, he should come and look into it.”

  He took a moment to absorb this information, but she looked so beautiful when her eyes were so intently gazing into his.

  Fear flickered in the dark blue depths, bringing his thoughts back to her sobering words.

  “Why would I be in danger? In danger from whom?”

  She frowned, then said in a hushed voice, “Hennek, of course.”

  “Why would Hennek want to kill me? I am the duke’s son.”

  “Which is why he wants to kill you. If you discover something amiss here and report it to your father, he may uncover Hennek’s wrongdoing.”

  “Wrongdoing? What is Hennek doing?”

  “He must be taking money from the tax coffers. He seems to have almost unlimited wealth all of a sudden, and I don’t know where it’s coming from. He also takes bribes so that innocent men are found guilty while the guilty go free. I have witnessed it.”