Escape from the Past (21 page)

Taking her hand we walked past the stall partitions. Most were occupied with horses and the few empty ones contained an assortment of buckets, tools and rough blankets. Remembering Bero’s terrible head wound, I once again worried about my friend and pulled Juliana across the courtyard. A few guards patrolled in the distance and an occasional servant and squire crossed our path.

“I left him in the great hall,” I said, scolding myself for forgetting. Most of the torches had been extinguished, the tables cleaned and the straw raked. It was quiet. I was tempted to take time out for another kiss, but Juliana kept pulling me along.

At the far end of a bench, we discovered Bero fast asleep. He’d curled up and snored like a buzz saw.

Despite our efforts, he didn’t wake and I finally threw him over my shoulder and carried him to the barn.

“I need hot water,” I said.

“What for?”

“Luanda gave me medicine for Bero.”

“In the kitchen.”

Juliana helped me boil water in one of the cast-iron kettles. Then we soaked the arnica in a bowl. I swiped a cloth I’d seen hanging in the rafters. It wasn’t perfectly clean, but Bero’s wounds had crusted over.

In the stall, I fashioned several bandages and placed them on a snoring Bero. I just wished Bero’s mind would straighten.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother. Good night, Max,” Juliana whispered, drawing me into the shadows. I could’ve kissed all night, but she soon pulled away. “I have to be upstairs, in case My Lady needs something.”

She won’t need anything Werner can’t give her, I thought. There
was
one other thing, I’d wanted to know.

“I do have a question,” I said, trying to suppress the urgency in my voice. “What year is it?”

Juliana looked at me in surprise. “Why wouldn’t you know that? Every child knows that.”

“But at my home they count differently,” I said. The sound of the word
home
made me tremble.

“Oh.” Juliana turned to leave. “1471.

As I watched Juliana melt into the darkness of the courtyard, I searched for something to say. I felt her absence like a void, but worse were my thoughts, the numbers echoing through my head. So, I was truly in the Middle Ages. Jimmy’s dad had invented a game that made you travel through time… I was living in the same village except almost six hundred years in the past.

I settled next to Bero. The horse blanket was warm but rough
and the smells were getting to me again. Now that the wine was wearing off, I felt itchy. For a minute I fantasized about taking Juliana to the river and swimming naked. Afterwards I’d explore her body one inch at a time. I sighed. The urge in my crotch was getting unbearable and I worked under the blanket to find release.

Still I couldn’t sleep. I thought of taking off my shoes. It was nearly pitch black and I’d have trouble loosening the straps. My throat felt dry after the wine. I longed for a bottle of nice, clean water. I remembered my mother, her tired smile the last time we’d eaten dinner. I’d been a jerk then, whining about the dinner when she’d been working all day. Still, she’d been patient. Even my father hadn’t been that bad. It’d been months since I talked to him. Usually I pretended to be busy and hung up. I swallowed against the pressure in my throat. Crying was a stupid waste of time. I had only one choice: finish the game. Whatever that meant.

My thoughts returned to Bero’s and Juliana’s mother, their little sister. Had they been taken by Ott? Or were they home, trying to deal with their destroyed furniture and going crazy with worry about Bero. Surely, they’d heard about Juliana leaving Miranda—before Ott had ransacked the hut. But they wouldn’t know where she was either.

I sat up. There was only one choice. I had to go and tell them. If they weren’t home, I’d convince Werner to free them from Ott’s filthy claws. I thought of slipping into the kitchen to boil more water to drink. It’d take too long. I crept out of the barn. A different guard stood hidden in the shadow of the gate. I nodded and made my way downhill. Now that I had shoes I’d be back in a flash.

This time, the hike to the village was easy. I marveled at how good my feet felt in my new boots. I even saw the path in the shine of a half moon. Miniature clouds raced across the sky and the wind gripped me as soon as I left the protection of the walls. My ears ached from the harsh air. I needed to find a hat if this game didn’t come to an end soon. Normally I would’ve sat in my room playing a game or hanging out with Jimmy.

Muted lights filtered through the windows of the Klausenhof. Not much went on at this hour—whatever hour that was—and the middle of the week. Most villagers didn’t have the means to buy drinks or eat out.

I made my way down the trail, past the dressmaker’s house, the market square on my left and the dozens of shacks. I heard an occasional shout, a few whispers and a dog barking. But the path was deserted. People went to bed after dark. They were probably dead tired and even if they’d wanted to stay up, what would they’ve done? Watch TV, read a book, search the Internet? Ha, very funny.

Bero’s hut was dark and I climbed across the fence into the yard. The air stunk worse than putrid, probably the pig blood decomposing. I’d better hurry, get in, take inventory and rush back to the castle.

I knocked on the door, wishing I had a flashlight. Nothing.

Pushing open the door I called into the darkness. “Adela? Mother?” I sniffed and sighed in relief when I saw the glimmering coals of a wood fire. “It’s Max.”

A suppressed scream came from the loft and somebody scrambled in the back corner.

“Max?”

I recognized Bero’s mother lighting a tallow lamp. She’d aged since the last time I saw her, the lines around her mouth deeper,
her hair standing in all directions. Adela hustled down the ladder.

“Where’s Bero? Juliana?” the mother said.

“At the castle. Lord Werner has taken them in.”

“Thank
Gott.
” Bero’s mother crossed herself. “Why didn’t he come with you?”

“Bero’s been ill. He’s fine, but it isn’t safe. He was—”

“His sows are dead,” Adela interrupted.

“I know. I found them. Bero got attacked.” I explained how I’d taken Bero to Luanda’s cabin and we’d found shelter at Hanstein.

Bero’s mother sank on what was left of the bench. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m going back now. We didn’t know if you were hurt—if Ott took you away.”

“He just broke everything we owned,” the mother said. “He asked for Juliana. What’s he going to do with an old woman?” she cackled.

You still have a young daughter, I thought. Aloud I said, “Maybe I can help.”

“He didn’t believe that we didn’t know,” Adela said. “He asked about you, too.”

I pulled out my moneybag and handed several silver pieces to Bero’s mother. “From His Lordship, Werner von Hanstein.”

“Thank
Gott,
” she said again, crossing herself. “I worried we’d starve through the winter.” Looking at the coins on her palm she slapped a hand on her mouth. “It is a fortune.”

She grabbed my arm. “Please thank His Lordship. He has truly saved us.” Then she turned. “Will you have a refreshment? Adela, fetch the
Bier.
”

I licked my lips. I was thirsty, but then I remembered the horrible drinks I’d endured here.

“No, thanks.” I was suddenly anxious to leave. A weird pressure built in my stomach and crawled through my arms and legs, making them weak. “I’ll tell them you’re fine.”

“Be careful,” Adela whispered. Her brown eyes reminded me of Juliana.

The feeling of doom got stronger as I left the hut. Nothing moved on the path except for the scattering feet of rats and mice. I’d never get used to the disgusting filth of this place.

I rushed past the Klausenhof whose lights had been extinguished on the main floor. The ground soon got steep and I kept my eyes low. Clouds swept past the moon, creating soft edges and inky blackness.

My ears were doing overtime, listening for suspicious sounds. The wind had picked up and all I heard were the rustling leaves of the giant oaks. Ahead came the last curve, before I turned right toward Rimbach and the Hanstein gate. I sighed with relief, excited about telling Bero and Juliana that their mother and sister were fine, that I’d given them money to survive the winter.

Without warning, I crashed to the ground choking. An arm snaked around my neck, its metal scales like a thousand nails biting my skin until I thought I’d pass out. Not a word had been uttered, but my ears rang with the rushing of my own blood. Stars exploded as my vision became clouded, my legs flailing across the muddy ground. I gasped for air, the rattling of my own throat scarier than the attack. I’d be gone in a minute. My chest heaved with the effort of breathing. The weight on my neck remained. I felt my mind fading.

Without warning the choke hold released and I was yanked upright. I sucked air to refill my lungs, struggling to ignore the stinging pain in my throat. Armored men surrounded me. They pushed and shoved, seemingly taking pleasure to dig their ironclad hands into my flesh. I wanted to shout for help. Maybe they’d hear me at the castle. But my mouth was dry and no sound came out.

“We got him,” someone said in the dark.

“Bind his arms and take him away.” I thought it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t think why. In the darkness, the voices
were detached like ghosts, but the cruel grip was real enough.

“Who are you?” I whispered. My throat ached, my voice scratchy and foreign.

Instead of an answer, my arms were yanked backwards until I thought they’d dislocate my shoulders. Stinging pain throbbed through my chest and back. I suppressed a scream. Metal clinked and I felt the weight of a chain pull down my hands. Somebody shoved me in the kidneys and I stumbled forward. I was going downhill again, but left, away from Hanstein and Bornhagen toward the outskirts of Rimbach.

Unable to see the ground, I fell, landing on my ribs and face. New pain joined my aching shoulders as I was heaved vertical and pushed on. I lost my footing again, but before I crashed, an arm roughly pulled me straight. They were walking fast as if trying to get away from the prying eyes of the castle. I listened for other sounds, a possible pursuit from Werner’s men, but all I heard was my rattling breath, heavy footsteps and jingling chains. I wondered if anyone had heard the attack. I hadn’t been close enough to the gate and chances were good that the Hanstein guards were inside their shelter. Even if they’d heard something, it was inky black now, the moon hidden behind a layer of clouds. Worse, I’d disappeared into one of the thick forests.

I was thoroughly screwed.

Ahead I made out dancing lights. Torches had been stuck into the ground of a clearing. Men sat, lounged and stood around a handful of campfires, their armor reflecting orange and yellow. The crackling of damp wood mixed with the sizzle of roasting meat and the snorts of horses. I looked for Ott’s rat face, but nobody looked familiar. The rat was letting others do his dirty work while he chased another helpless maid.

“We got the spy,” the voice from earlier said, now with a hint of pride. We had stopped in front of a broad-shouldered knight with a yellow and blue plume on his helmet. His visor stood open, but his face lay in shadow.

“Bind him. Two guards,” the plume said. His voice sounded definitely familiar, but my brain refused to function. “We’ll march at first light.”

I was dragged toward a tree where leather ropes were tied across my chest and legs. Standing pressed against the trunk I couldn’t move a muscle. With my arrival, the chatter of voices had risen. Now that their prize was secure, it died back down. Meat and flasks of wine were more important. I wondered what they wanted from me, why they called me a spy. I stared across the camp in a daze. Most men wore armor, some leather vests and chainmail. All of them looked rough and dirty like thugs, long and greasy hair matching their beards.

If this was a videogame, I was the pope. Terror spread through my legs, turning them to jelly. I would’ve crumpled into a heap, had I not been bound.

I woke to whistles and the neighing of horses. A deep chill had crawled into my bones and made me tremble. My hands felt numb and when I tried wiggling my toes, I couldn’t tell where they were. The memory of the march and my imprisonment returned with a vengeance. I scanned the bushes and trees in
search of Werner’s men. The bushes stood silently. I was on my own.

Smoke rose from the dying fires as the men kicked mud to douse them. A guard untied my ropes and I’d have sunk to the ground except for the grip on my arms. I shook my feet, which felt like lumps, and raised my legs to awaken the frozen muscles. My bladder ached and my throat was scratchy with thirst.

“Got to piss,” I mumbled.

“Yonder,” the guard said, pointing to a shrub. I turned sideways. How was I supposed to pee if I didn’t have an arm free? To my relief, the man untied my chain.

“Can you tie my arms in front?” I said after I finished. The sentry looked around, obviously unsure about this important decision. Everyone seemed busy, picking up camp. He finally nodded and I watched as the man relocked the chain in front.

“Thanks.”

A second guard appeared and shoved me in the side. “March.”

I stumbled forward to follow the soldiers and riders down the path. Nothing looked familiar. I tried to determine what direction we were headed, but the sun was stubbornly hidden behind a layer of clouds, the path covered in fall leaves. We kept walking. Once in a while, the forest was interrupted by pastures and fields. In the distance peasants worked with backs bent low. They ignored the trek of armored men, me, the prisoner in their midst.

The path meandered through more fields and patches of woods. A low-rising mountain, I noticed in the distance, came steadily closer. I spotted a tower and a large square building like a short keep. It didn’t look like anything I remembered from Ott’s place. The rat hadn’t owned a castle, just a country manor. And we’d been walking a long time.

The huts of another village appeared. Where Bornhagen had been poor, this place looked worse. The road passed by a market,
a patch of mud and dying grass now occupied by vendors and assorted peasants in ragged clothes. Most of them were barefoot, their eyes dull and tired. Rats rooted among the filth, their noses twitching. I tried to take shallow breaths, but the stench made my stomach heave. Bile rose and my mouth turned bitter.