Escape from the Past (23 page)

Ignoring the stench, I did a few push-ups. Then lunges. I boxed the air imagining the beadle’s face until I was out of breath, which only took seconds. I pushed through the achiness and continued. I shouted and kicked, stopped for a minute, did it again.

“Max?” Lippold’s voice drifted across. “What are you doing?”

“Exercising?”

“What is that, young Max?”

“I’m keeping in shape so I can stay strong.” I paused. “Where are we? Do you know this place?”

“Rusteberg?”

“Yes.”

“It is a small holding near the village
Marth.
”

“Describe it to me? How far are we from Bornhagen?”

“The Duke resides here when he’s traveling. He mostly lives in
Heiligenstadt
where he has a large abode. Bornhagen is maybe a half-day’s ride. Why do you ask?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Maybe a week.”

“Will you get out?”

“I’ve sent a message to my cousin to put a lien against one of my villages. I will pay the charge and be released.”

“Schwarzburg lets you do that?”

“He is more interested in riches than keeping a minor vassal like me locked up,” Lippold chuckled.

How could the guy be in such high spirits being imprisoned in this hellhole? But then, Lippold knew he’d be released soon. I, on the other hand, had been taken for an entirely different reason.

“You think you could loan me some money?” I said.

“How will you repay me when you die?”

“Listen, My Lord. I need a couple gold coins, gulden or
something. When you get out, find a ruse to get them to me.”

The wall was quiet for a moment.

Suddenly, I stopped my pacing. I’d completely forgotten. The coin purse was still in my pocket. The guards had never checked it. They didn’t have pockets in the Middle Ages and wore their belongings in bags around their belts. Now I’d have a chance. Even if it was slim, I had to try.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.”

Twice a day, the slot on my door opened. A hand tossed a piece of bread. Then it would return, waving impatiently while a disembodied voice demanded, “Beaker.”

I’d pass my cup to the hand and receive it back, filled with water. I avoided looking at the brew in the unaccustomed light that streamed through the opening because I’d want to puke seeing what I was swallowing. I already felt like my insides were falling apart. My stomach and bowels cramped most of the time and I’d visited my straw-toilet in the corner way too often. The water had a weird smell, not exactly putrid, but not neutral like the water at home. I was astounded I smelled anything with all the stink that surrounded the place.

When the hole opened this time, I crouched to take a look at the guard. I was hoping it was the man who’d adjusted my chains and walked with me a few days ago. He’d seemed somewhat nicer than the rest. To my disappointment, it was a different man with a darkish beard matted like dreadlocks.

I was on edge. The longer I stayed, the weaker I was getting. It wasn’t just my body. My mind had grown foggy, thoughts were hard to follow. The foul blackness was spreading to my brain. Time dissolved into stupor, my mind running in circles. Since I’d discovered the coins, I’d only come up with one idea. And time was running out. Unless I did something now, I might as well lie down and rot.

“Wait,” I whispered to the hand dropping the bread. “I need parchment…eh,
pergamentum
and a pen…a quill, something to write.”

“Can’t talk to prisoners,” the voice gruffed back.

“I’ll pay you—well.” The slot was still open and I spoke faster. “How much do you want?”

“Prove it.” The voice had a new ring. It was laced with greed.

I hesitated. If I showed the money, the guy would steal it and not do a thing. How could I trust someone I’d never seen? What choice did I have?

The slit closed.

“Wait,” I shouted at the door. I groped under my robes and drew out the coin purse. The hole was open again. Not a sound could be heard except for the clinking of coins. I fished out a gold one and laid it on my palm. Afraid the guard would snatch it, I held it at a distance from the slot.

“Eventide,” the guard said.

“Thanks,” I sighed.

As the hours clicked away, I got more and more excited. I began pacing again, faster this time. I did more pushups against the wall, letting my upper body fall forward and catching myself. I’d write a note to Werner and find a way to send it with Lippold. All the guard had to do was take my note and carry it next door. No risk at all.

I’d talked to Lippold, found out the guy had a small estate a few miles away. His wife had born him a dozen kids. All but three were dead. Lippold’s voice had sounded steady when he’d talked about the miscarriages, the dead babies and toddlers he’d buried in the family graveyard. I thought about mentioning prevention and contraception, but let it go. I wondered what Lippold looked like and how his wife felt losing her children.

My stomach growled and I had a foul taste in my mouth. I hadn’t brushed teeth in weeks. My lips were so dry that they cracked and bled. I needed Chap Stick. I couldn’t wait for the evening meal and the paper. I’d have to write in the dark like a blind man, but it’d have to do.

The outer door to the building opened and I squatted next to the slot. But instead of it sliding up, the door creaked open. I straightened as the evening light from outside hit me. Temporarily blinded I shut my eyes. Rough hands seized my forearms.

“The Duke wishes to see you,” the guard said. It was dread-locks, but he gave no sign of recognition. Was that bad or did he want to avoid drawing attention because of the second guard? I threw a last glance at my cell and regretted it immediately. The straw was brownish gray. Six or seven rats scattered along the sides, digging under to get away from the light. The walls were black except for scratch marks along the back wall as if someone had tried to claw their way out of the place.

Framed by two men and a third walking in front, I marched toward the Duke’s chamber. Breathing deeply and renewed my deprived senses by scanning the buildings and grounds. Schwarzburg’s holding looked poor and miserable compared to Hanstein. A maid hurried into the entrance ahead of me. She looked unhappy, her face scrunched into a frown, her cap askew. Her pale linen dress was ripped at the seam. I thought of the squires and maids at Werner’s castle. They were in much better shape.

As before, Duke von Schwarzburg sat behind his table, reading by the light of a candle stub. He reminded me of the
scrooge,
one of my favorite movies as a kid. Too bad, I couldn’t send the beadle a few ghostly visitors. I took position in front of him. Despite the gloom, my eyeballs ached and I looked down.

“Now that you’ve had time to think, what can you tell me?” The beadle grabbed a quill as if he were ready to take notes.

“About the harvest festival?”

“Let’s start there.”

“Bero and I walked to the fair to get a bite to eat and drink at the Klausenhof. We looked at—”

“So you had coin.” The Duke’s eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness.

I thought a moment. I’d gotten the money from Werner for telling him about Lady Clara and wanting to help her and Juliana. “Yes.”

“How did you get it?”

I opened my mouth. If I told the truth, the Duke would say I had been paid for spy services.

“My family,” I mumbled.

“Your family is where?”

“Em, far away.”

“You’ve traveled from afar? Where? To do what?”

“See the country.”

“Where is your family?” The beadle leaned back. He hadn’t written a thing and absentmindedly drummed the quill on the table.

I paused. What was I saying? I spoke German. Even if it was weird German to their ears, how could I explain coming from another country.

“Austria,” I blurted. “My family is from Austria.”

“Is that so?” The beadle’s eyes had narrowed. “And you’ve traveled all this way to visit the lords of Thuringia.”

I said nothing. It sounded ludicrous.

“And who is your family. Their name is Nerds? Are they vassals? Who do they serve?”

I thought of my mother who was probably tearing her hair out right now. I saw her pacing, taking calls from the police, going to the neighbors asking and searching for me. My imagined my father on the phone, drilling police, demanding answers. I wanted to lie, come up with some great story. But my mind sputtered to a stop.

“Where’s your fortune now?” The beadle’s voice had turned sharp as a blade. “Surely you must carry it when you travel so far.”

I stared. Dreadlocks had talked, I was sure of it.

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” The beadle nodded to the guard who stepped forward.

“Take it off,” the guard barked.

With shaky fingers, I pulled off my Surcot, then the second tunic. My undershirt, the dressmaker had made, was stained
brown along armpits and stomach. I looked like a pig. Disgusted I pulled it over my head, leaving my T-shirt. Then I waited.

The beadle still sat watching, but now he stared at my chest. “Nerds,” he read. “Most curious. Disrobe!”

I yanked off my T-shirt. The air was frigid and I looked longingly at the fireplace with its sparse flames. The beadle had gotten up from his table and stepped in front of me. He picked up the shirt and rubbed the fabric. “Most curious.” Squinting and mumbling, he circled around me, his fingers tapping at the jeans.

“Off.”

I unbuttoned, the zipper zinging in the still room. The guards gasped while the beadle bent lower to inspect. I struggled to pull my jeans over the boots. Finally, I slumped into the straw and yanked off each pant leg inside out. When I looked up again, the men stared at me. They had that alien look I’d seen when I first arrived in the village, making me feel like an oversized lab animal among mad scientists. I scrambled to stand—twenty-first-century boxers over medieval boots. I couldn’t stop myself shivering.

The beadle picked up my grimy jeans and inspected them with two fingers as if they could bite him. His hands slid inside the pockets, then played with the button and zipper.

“Strange…Austrian fashion…and no coin.” The beadle lowered my pants and stared at me. “Where is it?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my face still. I’d lied my fair share, little lies really, about homework and things I’d done with Jimmy. This was way different. I thought of the
James Bond
movies,
Bond
always having smart jabs not being afraid of anything. I suppressed a shudder. This wasn’t a movie. Or a game. The truth was I was scared now, really scared.

“I lost it on the way.”

“More lies.” The beadle shuffled to his seat. “How do you know Lady Clara?”

The question faded away, but I stood silent. What was I
supposed to say now? I remembered crawling under the table, whispering my idea to her, my visit to her chambers.

“I saw you and Lady Clara walking near the Klausenhof during the festival.”

“That was the only time?”

“Just once.” Now I was really lying. “The next morn I saw you both leave the Klausenhof in a wagon.”

“Do you know where Lady Clara is hiding?”

I shrugged. I was on dangerous territory

“Do you want to tell me you do not know that she’s taken up with Hanstein?” The last word sounded like spit. “Like a common criminal and a whore.” The Duke’s voice had risen with fury and his eyes narrowed until they nearly disappeared behind the creases of his pasty face. I wondered how the man could possibly think that she belonged to him when she had been married to a knight and the beadle had stolen her.

“My Lord, I slept in the horse stalls and only visited the hall two times.”

“You’re denying that Lord Werner paid you?”

“Em, no, but that was for helping a girl.”

“So you
are
a spy who works for Hanstein freeing women…whores?”

I shook my head. I’d never get anywhere with this idiot, no matter what I said.

The beadle leaned back and took a sip from a pewter mug. “Return him to his quarters. He needs more time.”

The guards grabbed my elbows and shoved me toward the door.

“What about my clothes,” I yelled over my back.

“My Lord?” The guards had stopped, looking expectantly at his master.

“I will keep his pants and the tunic with the letters. Give him the rest.” One of the guards grabbed the pile of cloth and stuffed it in my arm.

I stared at the beadle. For the first time I wanted to kill a man. I limped back to my cell. In the darkness I struggled to pull on my clothes. My legs were bare now and the tunic didn’t go past my calves. I imagined the rats looking for a place to sleep next to my skin. I needed to get away—fast.

“Is that you, young Max?” Lippold’s voice drifted across the stone wall.

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“Did you come to an agreement?”

“Schwarzburg still didn’t like what I said. He was looking for money and stole half my clothes.”

“Sorry to hear that. It will behoove you to go along with the Duke’s wishes. He’s an evil man and will not stop.”

I had only half listened while I groped around the filth. I’d stuck the purse under the straw along the back wall. The guard would come soon with his evening ration. I kept rooting, touching the walls and sweeping my hand back and forth. I had placed it right against the wall. I was sure of it. Despite the cold I began to sweat. The coins were gone.

While I’d been interrogated, someone had come and stolen my money. My perfect plan had turned to dust. A terrible anger seized me then and I smashed a fist into the wall. The stabbing pain in my knuckles didn’t bring relief and I did it again. I was falling apart anyway, so what difference did it make.

The outer door opened and I heard the neighboring cell open and close.

“The Duke has granted you an audience,” I heard one of the guards say. The doors banged shut and it turned quiet.

I crumpled into the straw, wiping at the slimy mess of sweat and tears. I’d lost it all. Nothing I’d started had worked out. I was finished. This time the game was really over. I didn’t hear the slot open and close as the guard filled my cup and tossed in a chunk of bread. The rats took over and feasted while I slept the sleep of the worn. When I woke it was completely dark.