by Cory Barclay
And while a part of that plan was realized and Lucille did marry Gustav, the parliamentary power never passed to the elder Josef because Gustav was killed and his marriage to Josef’s daughter annulled.
From this information, it was clear to Hugo that the cities of Bergheim and Erftstadt, separated by a mere fifteen miles, were at odds. And that the tension between them was likely fueled by the two fathers—Ludwig Koehler of Bergheim and Josef Witten of Erftstadt—each one in control of his respective city and both responsible for the failed marriage.
The most important document among Heinrich’s notes was of course the one reciting exactly what Heinrich hoped to achieve from his marriage to Lucille—what he would give and what he would get. It was Heinrich’s plan to turn tension between the two cities and their rulers into positives. And Hugo was intrigued by the way Heinrich explained in his instructions how Hugo was to accomplish that.
As the carriage drew closer to Bergheim, in an effort to ease his nerves Hugo kept re-reading the papers. He had a heavy responsibility ahead of him and the last thing he needed was to be unprepared. Disappointing Heinrich—knowing his temper and tendency for swift, vicious punishment—was usually not a survivable option.
In Hugo’s mind there was just one glaring omission Heinrich had failed to take into account: that Heinrich himself might not be the most viable groom in the eyes of either father Koehler or father Erftstadt, not to mention Lucille herself. But there wasn’t much Hugo could do about that.
By the time the sun had peaked in the sky, Hugo’s carriage pulled through the northwestern gate of Bergheim. And immediately, Hugo was overwhelmed.
Nearly three times the size of Bedburg, Bergheim’s streets reflected the city’s bustling population. Workers, peasants, and travelers buzzed about in all directions. Tall buildings of stone competed for space with wattle-and-daub huts. And nestled in the center, a large natural park occupied a huge patch of hilly, green countryside.
After his experiences in the metropolis of Trier, Hugo was well aware that the size of a town directly correlated with how poorly its inhabitants treated foreigners. The larger the city, the snobbier its citizens. Once the people of Trier had learned that Hugo was not just an outsider, but from a smaller town as well, he had not been treated kindly. The only thing saving his dignity had been the fact that he’d played the role of an inquisitor’s assistant.
Which meant Hugo had his work cut out for him in this very large, likely haughty municipality.
As their carriage rumbled down the main thoroughfare, a few beggars surrounded them, shaking their cans and hats. No matter a town’s size, some things remain the same, he thought. Not wanting to be associated with the poor—which could only exacerbate the snobbery—he ordered Felix to ride around the beggars quickly and head straight for Bergheim Castle.
As the castle came into view, Hugo realized it was not much bigger than the one in Bedburg. They rode through a grand archway with ornate spires on top, stopping in front of the mostly-brick structure where a valet greeted them. While Felix transferred the care of the carriage to the valet, Hugo took in the full measure of the place, craning his neck and squinting his eyes. Accompanied by his two armored men, he then headed to the castle entrance while Felix stayed behind with the carriage.
To Hugo’s surprise, the inside of Castle Bergheim wasn’t at all flashy. Unlike most castles—which tended to resemble grand cathedrals more than luxury living quarters—this one was quite practical and reasonable. No circular staircases or marbled floors or other expensive extravagances. Just a simple structure intended for one purpose only: to serve as a fortress to ward off invaders, not impress visitors.
At the bottom of the staircase, Baron Ludwig Koehler stood waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. A thin man with a beaked nose and permanent scowl, his clothing preference gravitated to the darker side: a deep purple tunic under a crimson cloak. Though Hugo had seen the baron less than three months earlier in Trier, Ludwig had clearly aged. Lines creased the edges of his temples and puffy purple skin sagged below his eyes.
Of course Hugo knew there were good reasons for Ludwig’s ancient appearance. He’d lost both his sons in terrible ways: Johannes, killed by Hugo’s brother-in-law, Dieter, after raping Hugo’s sister; and Gustav, disappearing from Trier under mysterious circumstances and presumed dead.
“Who in God’s name are you?” the sullen old man croaked.
Hugo’s eyes widened. “I . . . I’m—”
“I was expecting Heinrich Franz,” Ludwig continued, his frown growing more pronounced.
After a short pause Hugo said, “You don’t remember me, my lord?”
Ludwig scoffed. “Should I?”
“I aided you in Trier. I was Inquisitor Samuel’s assistant.” The lie over the aliases he and Tomas had used came easily to Hugo.
Ludwig narrowed his eyes. “Ah, yes,” he said at last. “Gregor.”
Hugo was impressed that the old man had remembered his alias. He bowed. “Hugo, in fact. Hugo Griswold.”
Ludwig shook his head and mumbled to himself. “Can no one speak the truth in this Godforsaken land anymore? All these names . . . you and ‘Samuel’ and . . . Grand Inquisitor Adalbert.” He made a guffawing sound. “Follow me, boy,” he said, spinning around.
Hugo followed him up the stairs. Ludwig led him to the first door down the hallway and into a large room. It was an assembly hall of some kind with a rectangular table set in the middle. Two women and an elderly man were seated around it: the first woman was petite, with large spectacles and a heavy book opened in front of her; the man was fat, white-haired, and old, with a disdainful expression on a very wrinkled face; and the other lady was blonde and middle-aged, with the same arrogant sneer on her face as the old man’s.
Ludwig ordered Hugo’s two men-at-arms to wait at the door beside his own guards. They glanced at Hugo for approval, then obliged once he nodded, clasping their hands in front of their stomachs with pseudo-authority.
Ludwig led Hugo to the table and, with a wave of his hand, said, “This boy comes to speak on the behalf of Lord Heinrich Franz of Bedburg,” he announced.
The fat old man immediately grumbled. “Rubbish!” And all eyes shot to him as he rambled on. “That peevish bastard can’t even be bothered to speak with us directly? And he expects favors? This is nonsense, Ludwig. I’m leaving.”
The old man made an effort to rise, but struggled against his massive weight.
“Oh, father,” the blonde woman next to him said. “Don’t be such a grouch. Sit.”
The old man breathed hard through his nose, stared daggers at the woman, then relented, dropping back in his seat.
As Ludwig tried to hide his smirk, he introduced the man and blonde woman to Hugo. “I give you Baron Josef von Erftstadt and Lady Lucille Engel.”
Ah. Lady Lucille! Hugo thought. He’d found her with ease. He mentally checked off that box from his list.
Lady Lucille was a handsome woman, almost regal in her fine silk robe. But Hugo was more intrigued by the much younger girl at the far end of the table, the one with the spectacles and giant book. Ludwig saw Hugo’s eyes focus on her. “And that’s Hedda, my scribe and assistant,” he said. She seemed strangely familiar to Hugo, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her.
“Sit,” Ludwig ordered, so Hugo did. “We are all busy people here,” the baron continued, “so let’s get to this. It comes as quite a shock to hear that Heinrich Franz wishes to marry Lady Lucille.”
“Shock isn’t strong enough a word,” Baron Josef grumbled.
Shooting the old man a wary glance, Ludwig continued. “What does the new lord of Bedburg wish to achieve with this proposal? And what will he give in return?”
Hugo cleared his throat. So that’s it, then. No subtlety. No lead-in. Just get to the quid pro quo.
“My lord wishes to form an alliance with the fine city of Bergheim,” Hugo stated.
“Let me stop you right there,” Ludwig said, holdin
g up his palm. “We are practical people, young man. Our city is prosperous—much more so than your little hamlet. Why would we need an alliance with tiny Bedburg?”
“Because Archbishop Ernst wishes it.”
Which got immediate raised eyebrows from all in attendance.
“So the archbishop is behind this,” Josef said. “I should have guessed. That . . . changes things.”
“Why?” Lucille asked.
Meanwhile, Hedda was eagerly transcribing the conversation in her book.
“Because, my dear daughter,” the old man told her, “while Heinrich may be a lesser noble, Archbishop Ernst is not. And if the former can’t deliver what we want, the latter could.”
Hugo was dying to ask him what it was they wanted, but Heinrich had ordered him to stay on script and not deviate. All eyes returned to the young emissary.
Calmly folding his hands on the desk, Hugo tried to appear in control despite his heart thumping so loudly he was sure the others could hear it. “My lord wants to solidify relations with Bergheim and Erftstadt,” he explained, focusing on old baron Josef.
“You mean Archbishop Ernst wants these lands under strict Catholic rule,” Ludwig said.
“Are they not already Catholic territories, my lord?” Hugo queried.
Baron Josef answered for Ludwig. “Technically, yes. But Erftstadt, for instance, has twelve wards—twelve separate villages, each with its own mayor in charge of how to control its ecclesiastical elements. We don’t go out of our way to persecute Protestants,” he said, adding, “unlike Heinrich Franz.”
Ludwig nodded. “Your lord’s vicious reputation precedes him.”
“Yes,” Lucille added, “why should I marry such a man?”
Hugo’s head swiveled from speaker to speaker, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip. Clearly, he was outmatched here. Heinrich hadn’t prepared him for this.
“W-well,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Lord Franz is willing to give bountiful endowments to each of you.”
“That still doesn’t speak to the rumor of his ruthlessness,” Lucille reminded him. “How do I know he will make a good husband?”
“Was Gustav a good husband?” Hugo blurted, immediately regretting it.
Ludwig clenched his fists. “Excuse me, boy? What are you insinuating?”
“N-nothing, my lord,” Hugo backtracked, waving his hands in the air. “I meant nothing by it. Pardon me. I only meant to say that we can all benefit from this agreement, despite any individual qualms.” As he tried to will his heart rate to slow, he spoke evenly. “Lord Franz is not an evil man. He’s a staunch ally of Archbishop Ernst, and he’s been asked to wed. It came as much of a surprise to me as to him. I’ve never even seen him with a woman—”
“Except when he’s burning one at the stake,” Ludwig shot back.
Hugo sighed, pausing for a moment. But he knew the longer he stayed silent, the more Ludwig’s remark about Heinrich’s viciousness would reverberate. He needed to regain control before it was too late.
“Would you like to hear what Lord Heinrich proposes, my lords and lady?” he asked.
The men at the table griped, but Lady Lucille seemed to consider the question. “Yes,” she said at last, drawing the eyes of both her father and former father-in-law. “I would like to hear his offer.”
Reciting by memory from the parchment Heinrich had given him, Hugo responded. “In return for Lady Lucille’s hand in marriage, Heinrich will give control of two villages in the Bedburg territory to either baron, redirecting all taxes and tithes to that baron—”
“Does that mean he’s passing over land title, or just the right to usage?” Baron Josef asked.
Hugo didn’t know the answer to that one, so he answered with what he knew Josef wanted to hear. “The title, my lord. The villages would be yours—to till, to police, to tax.”
“That may perhaps leave one of us fulfilled, but what about the other? You can’t expect us to fight over these villages,” Ludwig said.
Hugo shook his head. “Of course not, my lord. For the other of you . . . Lord Heinrich will bestow his second seat on Cologne’s parliament.”
Both of the baron’s eyes twinkled. Hugo could see their greed blossom almost like a physical thing. Until then, he hadn’t known it was the seat they truly coveted.
Baron Josef asked, “He has two seats?”
Hugo nodded. “Archbishop Ernst granted him a second two months ago, when Heinrich advised him he wouldn’t be taking residence in Bedburg. So the archbishop created a new seat for his House Charmagne estate in the countryside. Currently it’s vacant, but Heinrich hopes to fill it with one of you, so that you might work together in the future.”
Baron Ludwig stroked the bottom of his chin, thinking, while Baron Josef nodded slowly. Neither looked at the other, both obviously considering their sudden competing interests. Hugo, with Heinrich’s guidance, had brilliantly managed to deflect these powerful men’s need for more power away from him and Heinrich and onto themselves. He was quite proud of himself.
But before the two barons turned on each other, Ludwig leaned forward conspiratorially. “You haven’t told us what Heinrich Franz wants in return, boy.”
Hugo was now the most relaxed he’d been since arriving. He smiled coolly. “What he is giving is far more valuable than what he seeks in return.”
Lady Lucille’s shoulders tensed, her eyes ablaze. “What did you just say, you little heathen?”
Hugo’s eyes bulged, realizing he’d seriously blundered.
Baron Josef took his daughter’s cue, slamming his palm on the table, causing Hugo to jump. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about, you rogue!” he bellowed.
Hugo’s mouth fell open.
Shit. And I’d been doing so well.
So he backpedaled. “No, no,” he said, shaking his head and hands furiously, “you mistake my meaning—”
“I understood you just fine, you wretch,” Josef said.
Hugo had lost them. Both the old baron and daughter appeared ready to leave the table. But surprisingly, it was Ludwig who came to Hugo’s rescue. After all, he couldn’t allow a deal like this to vanish over a mere slip of the tongue from an inexperienced messenger.
Ludwig turned to his companions. “I understand your apprehension,” he told them, “but let’s hear the boy out. He’s young and stupid. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
Josef thrust a finger in Hugo’s direction. “Let your tongue slip like that again and I’ll rip it out.”
“My deepest apologies, my lords, my lady.” Hugo took a breath, then continued. “All Heinrich wants is Lady Lucille’s hand in marriage. And for the cities under your control to remain Catholic, a most reasonable demand—that you merely fight any Protestant uprisings and take a hard line with Calvinists and Lutherans . . . and that you’ll come to Bedburg’s aid if needed.”
The barons looked at each other, not speaking, but Ludwig gave an imperceptible shrug.
Of course Hugo was well aware that, when all was said and done, his demands meant little to these men for three very simple reasons: first, because Heinrich was too far away to enforce any laws that might require them to punish Protestants in their cities. Second, because both Bergheim and Erftstadt were already Catholic. And third, because the barons could simply refuse to aid Bedburg if the time came, and there’d be nothing Heinrich could do about it.
In reality, Hugo realized, Heinrich wasn’t asking for anything, really, except Lady Lucille’s hand in marriage. The barons were getting a far better deal here, and Hugo could see in their eyes that they too realized this.
Was this Ernst’s idea? Hugo wondered. I’ve never known Heinrich Franz to do anything without careful strategic clarity . . . and an ulterior motive.
“Those are reasonable requests,” Josef said, trying to make the deal sound more neutral than it was. Turning to Ludwig, he said, “I’m getting too old to travel to Cologne and sit on that damned council. I�
�m willing to concede the proffered parliamentary seat to you if you’ll give me the villages.”
Baron Ludwig promptly stuck out his hand and Baron Josef shook it.
“Deal,” Ludwig said.
Hugo smiled.
“What are the villages Heinrich is giving me?” Josef asked.
“Kirdorf and Oppendorf, my lord. The first has an abundance of arable land, and the second—”
“I want a third,” Josef interrupted.
Hugo again cleared his throat. “Er, a third, my lord?”
“I’m willing to concede the council seat to Ludwig, and I’m giving away my widowed daughter in marriage. So I want a third, to make my ward fifteen villages strong.”
Heinrich’s parchment had warned Hugo of this, but it still caught him by surprise. Fortunately, Heinrich had included a remedy, stating in the letter, “fight for two villages, but allow a third.”
Not knowing how to properly negotiate such a fight, Hugo said simply, “Lord Heinrich has authorized me to give you Millendorf as well.” Millendorf was right next to Oppendorf and nearly twice its size. Both sat on the northern edges of Bedburg, while Kirdorf in the south was bigger than the other two combined.
Again, Hugo had trouble understanding Heinrich’s reasoning here. He was agreeing to give up ownership of three villages that surrounded Bedburg, not the best defensive position to take, militarily speaking.
Baron Josef reached out to shake Hugo’s hand on the deal but before he could, Lady Lucille, her head shaking back and forth, grabbed her father’s hand and pulled it back.
Taking the cue, Baron Ludwig stood from his chair, straightened his tunic, and said, “You’ve come with a fair offer, boy, and I misjudged you. Baron Josef and I will have an answer for you shortly. But until then, you may return to your home. Good day.”
Hugo’s heart raced. He’d been so close.
If only that damned woman didn’t have a say in . . . her own future.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SYBIL
Driving a horse-drawn cart provided by Reeve Clarence Bailey, Sybil and Georg made it to King’s Lynn in three days. They traveled northwest from Strangers Shire, down a densely populated thoroughfare that provided them with safe passage—from both criminal elements and patrolmen—all the way to the seaport town. As they passed farming villages and hamlets, no one paid them any mind; they looked like two ordinary married farmers, a big brawny fieldworker and his younger wife.
