Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (14 page)

PART THREE

JOURNEY INTO THE UNKNOWN

1.

Ludwig of the Palatinate had never made Marie wait in his antechamber for an audience for so long before. She had been sitting in this drafty room for four hours, watching more than a dozen men and women come and go, most of whom were of lower rank than she. This treatment could only mean that Lord Ludwig was even more annoyed than she had feared.

Marie began counting the red
damask-covered
chairs, then moved on to counting the legs. She could tell that the antechamber had been furnished by true artisans; since marrying off Ischi to the lather and cabinetmaker Ludolf last spring, Marie had spent a lot of time in Ludolf’s workshop, watching him and his men. Ischi’s husband had been grateful to her for supporting their marriage and for giving his wife a generous dowry, and therefore hadn’t kept his expert knowledge to himself, as was customary, but had let her in on the secrets of his trade.

In May, an order from the count palatine had put an end to the peaceful time she had spent on the goat farm with Hiltrud and in town with Ischi and Hedwig. Back then, she still felt grateful to Lord Ludwig and gladly followed his order to join him in Heidelberg immediately, because it was thanks to him that Kunigunde von Banzenburg and her husband left her alone.

She still had vivid memories of the dreadful days following her daughter’s birth, when exhaustion had let Marie’s imagination run wild. She had pictured Lady Kunigunde returning at any time with soldiers to tear her and her little Hiltrud, whom everyone called Trudi, from the safety of the goat farm, and then locking them in the icy room in the tower. Hiltrud had sworn to defend her and her godchild with pitchfork and scythe, but that had only increased her worries, thinking of Hiltrud getting killed in the scuffle.

To this day, she didn’t know whether Hiltrud’s threat or the returning snowstorm had prevented Lady Kunigunde from taking her back. In any case, the woman missed her chance, because a week later, Hiltrud’s husband had turned up like an angel of redemption ushered in by the storm, carrying the count palatine’s writ of protection. In that document, written by a secretary in meticulous chancery script, Lord Ludwig ordered that the widow of the knight Michel Adler mustn’t be forced to do anything against her will and also specifically ordered the castellan of Rheinsobern to return to Marie Adler any and all personal property belonging to her or her husband.

When the roads were passable again, she had called Lady Kunigunde and her husband to the goat farm to present them with the document. She still remembered with glee the tantrum the woman had thrown. Manfred von Banzenburg had taken the news much more calmly and, in the following days, sent over her remaining belongings and offered her money for missing items and the food they had consumed.

After she arrived in Heidelberg, however, her exuberant feelings for the count palatine soon turned to anger, because when she tried to profess her devotion and gratitude, the noble lord had responded evasively, instead giving her the names of three liege men from among whom she was to choose a new husband as soon as possible. Lord Ludwig intended to give the imperial fiefdom promised to Michel to one of his own followers, knowing that his men would support him independently of the German Empire, and he thought he was being particularly gracious in giving Marie her choice of several suitors. Marie had strongly rejected all three men because she was more convinced than ever that Michel was still alive.

Since her daughter’s birth, she had dreamed of him almost every night. He was always wearing the same strange clothing, and he stood in front of either a massive castle or a wooded mountain range. More than once she had tried to convince Lord Ludwig that her husband was alive, but he hadn’t believed her, mocking and chiding her in turn, and eventually accusing her of fabricating a poor excuse not to marry again. The count took the word of Falko von Hettenheim, who had sworn by God and the Holy Virgin that Michel had been dead when they left the battlefield. Marie distrusted anything Falko said, hating him with a passion she couldn’t explain. She had to keep her feelings to herself, however, as Falko stood high in the count palatine’s favor, and she couldn’t provoke Lord Ludwig any more.

An uncomfortable tension in her lower belly brought her back to the present. Her bladder was full, yet she didn’t dare leave the antechamber. If she did, the count would declare the audience finished and join his men in the great hall. And then it would take days or even weeks before they would let her through to him again, and she couldn’t risk that. She didn’t want to spend the winter at court, so she would have to leave before the autumn storms made traveling difficult.

To distract herself, she gazed out the window at the spacious castle grounds. The bull’
s-eye
windows distorted the shapes of the trees, but they were clear enough to allow the fall colors to shine through the glass in all their glory. It was almost
mid-October
, and storms would soon blow the leaves away. Marie sighed, thinking over all that had happened since the previous autumn; it had been nearly a year since her own
so-called
widowhood, and Trudi’s first birthday was in only a few weeks.

Trudi was currently with Mariele, Hiltrud’s eldest daughter, who was nine years old now and mature enough to serve Marie as a child maid, caring lovingly for the little girl and helping Marie however she could. Marie was grateful for her godchild’s services, as no other maid would have been as faithful and devoted.

Marie hoped Trudi was content with Mariele’s porridge, which wasn’t always the case. The little one preferred to be
breast-fed
and usually spat out anything else. Several ladies at court had criticized Marie for not taking a wet nurse, convinced the girl was being spoiled. But Marie wanted to give Michel’s child her own milk, and she was a bit sad at the thought of having to wean Trudi before long.

Now shifting around in discomfort, Marie had just decided to give up and run to the privy some distance down the corridor, when a servant appeared. “Lord Ludwig is ready to see you now.”

Marie followed him into the count’s suite, where two expressionless guards were standing in front of a double door decorated with reliefs of the Palatinate crest, wearing cuirasses of steel and helmets with feathers in the Palatinate’s colors. Stepping aside as the servant approached with Marie, the guard opened one of the doors, loudly announced Marie, and gestured at her to enter. Marie curtsied to the
bored-looking
count palatine sitting in a thickly padded armchair. He wore a richly embroidered blue tunic, red leggings, and a midnight blue beret decorated with silver thread and a clasp studded with rubies. In his right hand he was holding a jeweled cup while his left hand was resting on the table in front of him. He didn’t return Marie’s greeting but rather asked the question she was expecting.

“Well, Lady Marie, have you made a decision? Will you marry Herberstein?”

Decisively, Marie shook her head. “No, Your Highness, I haven’t changed my mind. My Michel is still alive, and I would commit a mortal sin if I gave myself to another man. By God and the saints, it is my destiny to wait for his return.”

The count’s expression made it clear that he wasn’t impressed with religious arguments. Setting down his cup of wine, he waved his fist in the air. “It wasn’t God who told you that was your destiny. It was your imagination! Your husband is as dead as a man can be after falling into a Hussite ambush. You need to lay him to rest in your heart, and you must take a new husband to protect you and to assume the fiefdom Lord Sigismund has promised. If you wait much longer, you will lose your daughter’s inheritance, because the emperor will soon forget his promise.”

“Then I’ll just have to remind him, because I’ve got all the necessary documents,” Marie replied confidently.

The count palatine snorted to express both his annoyance and impatience. “You won’t even be able to find him, because he’s been traveling from camp to camp for years. And even if you did manage to find Lord Sigismund and get an audience, he’d simply marry you off to some knight currently in his favor, because a fiefdom needs a man’s strong leadership, especially if it has only just been bestowed.”

“I beg your pardon, Lord Ludwig. I didn’t come here to put an end to my widowhood but rather to ask you to grant me the winter off.”

Ludwig of the Palatinate warily raised his head. “Where do you want to go?”

“I want to spend the season with my friend Hiltrud on her farm near Rheinsobern.”

The count’s face lit up visibly at her request. “I had hoped you would be spending the winter at my court,” he replied, only poorly concealing his relief at not having to put up with her stubbornness for the next few months. “But I will be generous and grant your wish. Lauenstein, make sure the lady can leave tomorrow morning.”

The order was directed at his adviser, an elderly man with a gray beard and thinning hair who had been quietly sitting in the corner. The man stood up, nodding eagerly while glancing contemptuously at Marie. He had hated her ever since she dared to doubt the renown of Falko von Hettenheim, his
son-in
-law
, and he was of the opinion that Lord Ludwig was much too lenient with the unruly widow.

Since his adviser was staring thoughtfully into thin air, the count became impatient. “What’s the matter, Lauenstein? Is it too difficult to organize a decent escort for the lady by tomorrow?”

Wincing at his lord’s harsh tone, Lauenstein was annoyed that Marie was the cause and witness of this admonishment, but he immediately composed himself and assumed the unruffled demeanor of a courtier, bowing to the count palatine. “Everything will be ready in the morning, Your Highness.”

“Good! Marie Adler, you may leave now.” Ludwig waved his hand at her, reaching for his cup of wine as the footman escorted Marie to the door. Even before the door had closed behind her, he gave a short, harsh laugh. “This winter, Lauenstein, the woman shall have her peace, but in the spring I’ll put a new husband in her bed no matter what she says.”

Overhearing the comment, she stopped outside the door and put her ear to the wood, ignoring her aching bladder and the surprised looks of the guards.

“Marie Adler is the most insubordinate woman I’ve ever come across. I’m convinced she will continue to refuse to take a husband and use your writ of protection as an argument. You should never have signed the document stipulating she couldn’t be forced to marry against her will.”

“I gave her that writ of protection, and I can just as easily take it from her again. Lady Marie will marry this spring, and I know who the bridegroom will be.”

“You’re no longer thinking of Hugo von Herberstein?”

“No, I’m thinking of Master Fulbert Schäfflein from Worms.”

“But he’s just a wealthy commoner!” Marie clearly heard the disgust in Lauenstein’s voice.

The count, on the other hand, seemed to purr contentedly. “Lady Marie is herself the daughter of a commoner, so Schäfflein seems like the perfect choice. Birds of a feather, Lauenstein . . . remember that.”

“But Lady Marie is a lady of rank!”

The count laughed heartily as Marie furiously clenched her fists. “I knew that woman when she was a lot less than that. But to protect your pride of rank, let me tell you that it will merely cost me a gesture, a ceremony in the cathedral, a touch of the sword, to turn the commoner Fulbert Schäfflein into Sir Fulbert. That will bring me another advantage, as he’ll have to buy one of my castles with his wife’s money.”

Lauenstein still didn’t seem satisfied. “The kaiser will hardly give the imperial fiefdom promised to Michel Adler to a newly appointed palatine knight.”

“I’ve already found a way around that. The fiefdom will go to Michel Adler’s daughter, and therefore I’ll declare the child my ward, bring her to my court when she reaches the age of two or three, and find suitable ladies to raise her.”

Having heard enough, Marie staggered away from the door with her hand pressed against her wildly beating heart, wanting to fling open the count’s door and shout all that she thought of him and greedy noblemen in general. But driven by her pressing physical need lest she otherwise embarrass herself in the corridor, she had to walk away as fast as her cramped muscles and her remaining bit of dignity allowed.

Rushing out the door and cursing the volume of fabric her tailor had deemed essential for the dress of a noblewoman, she realized that she wouldn’t make it to the privy and took the next stairs up to her chamber. She tore open the door, slammed it shut behind her, and feverishly pulled out the chamber pot from underneath the bed.

Only then did she notice Mariele watching her
wide-eyed
as she sat on one of the two chairs upholstered in woad
leaf-dyed
fabric, rocking Trudi in her arms. She smiled encouragingly at Mariele. “The count has given me permission to spend the winter with your parents and ordered me to leave tomorrow. We should start packing right away.”

Mariele nodded happily, thinking about the dresses that Marie had bought her. She knew they wouldn’t fit her much longer, and then she’d have to pass them along to her younger sister Mechthild, but she was still proud to own such elegant things. One of her dresses even looked like the ones the noblewomen wore at court. She imagined running her hand over its
mustard-colored
silk, the fabric rustling softly.

“Lady Kunigunde and her daughters won’t believe their eyes when they see us. I’m sure they don’t have any dresses as pretty as ours.”

Marie shook her head. “I hope I won’t have to see her or her offspring or anyone else from the castle.”

She would never forgive the woman for trying to marry her off to Götz, and she was aware that Lord Ludwig was using her just as ruthlessly, even if he wasn’t making her subsist on bread and water. But, just like Kunigunde von Banzenburg, he was only looking out for himself.

2.

Well-aware
of her history, Rumold von Lauenstein despised Marie wholeheartedly for her rise from a wandering harlot to the wife of a knight. In spite of his dislike for her, the courtier organized an escort appropriate for a lady of rank, along with a comfortable carriage belonging to the count palatine with thickly padded seats and walls to protect the lady and her companion from the bumpy roads. As Marie entered the courtyard, the driver and his servant were already sitting in the driver’s box, and the two horsemen riding in front were just mounting, along with half a dozen bodyguards wearing elegant cuirasses and feathered helmets.

After climbing the high step into the carriage with Mariele and Trudi, Marie greeted her traveling companion and her handmaid. The lady was Lauenstein’s daughter, Hulda, a mousy brunette with a pasty face who was past her prime and had lost her figure early. Her father had ordered her to accompany Marie, since it wasn’t appropriate for a lady of rank to travel alone, and also because the count wanted to be sure Marie was indeed going where she said she would. As Falko von Hettenheim’s wife, Hulda was ranked beneath the wife of a knight, but she puffed herself up as if intending to pay Marie back for every slander against her spouse.

The carriage had hardly started to move before she started showering Marie with stories of Sir Falko’s latest deeds and how he had apparently distinguished himself in the Bohemian war once again. Her overblown, lecturing manner tried Marie’s patience so much that she finally placed her hand on Hulda’s shoulder and smiled. “The way you describe your husband as the bravest and most determined among Sigismund’s followers makes me wonder why the kaiser hasn’t yet made him a free knight of the Reich like my Michel.”

Hulda hissed furiously. “Your husband knew how to ingratiate himself with Sigismund and exaggerate his deeds—that was how he received the rank and title my husband deserved!”

“The kaiser saw that differently,” Marie retorted calmly.

“Sigismund has become a senile fool!” Hulda repeated the phrase her husband had uttered during his last brief visit to his castle toward the end of the past winter, just before the start of the spring campaign. Not having seen him since then, Hulda von Hettenheim had given up hope of bearing her husband’s eagerly anticipated heir this year. Her eyes turned to little Trudi, sleeping blissfully in Mariele’s arms, and she resentfully envied Marie more than ever. Unlike Marie’s child, none of her five daughters would be declared their father’s heir. Unless a miracle happened and she managed to give birth to a son, family laws dictated that Falko’s cousin Heinrich would become the new lord of Hettenheim and her daughters would have to content themselves with a ridiculously small dowry. She ground her teeth at the thought. Then she remembered that Marie was rumored to possess great knowledge about herbs and potions, and she realized that it wasn’t in her best interest to antagonize the woman any more.

She now clasped Marie’s hands as if they were the best of friends. “Forgive me, Lady Marie, but I completely forgot how hard it must be for you to hear about Falko’s glory while your husband has fallen victim to those terrible Hussites.”

Her smile revealed her stained, damaged teeth, and when she moved closer, Marie could smell a pungent odor. Since Marie would be spending the next three or four days with Hulda, however, she decided to be more conciliatory toward the woman.

“You are very kind,” she said pleasantly, even though the lie almost made her gag.

Beaming with apparent gratitude, Lady Hulda started talking about her daughters, listing all the illnesses from which a child Trudi’s age might suffer, then moving on to discuss the latest court gossip. Marie wasn’t really interested in Baroness von Buchenberg’s affair with the elegant knight Nantwig, or why Count von Enztal couldn’t be sure which of his wife’s four children were his, but Hulda liked the sound of her own voice and continued to drone on.

When Lady Hulda thought she had sufficiently lulled Marie with her chatter, she changed the subject to what was really on her mind. Placing her hands on Marie’s shoulders, she turned her around so they were facing each other. “I desperately require your advice!”

Marie raised her eyebrows in surprise as Lady Hulda spilled out her concern in a breathless gush of words. “I’ve heard you know remedies to arouse a man’s desire, prevent an unwanted pregnancy, or . . .” She stared almost pleadingly at Marie.

“Or what?” she asked, uncomprehending.

“Do you know a remedy that will help create new life in a woman’s womb?” Lady Hulda was trembling with excitement and looked like she could hardly wait for the answer. Her maid leaned forward eagerly as well.

At first, Marie didn’t know how to respond. She thought that Hulda could have increased her husband’s desire with a long bath and a fresh dress, but she kept that to herself and instead listed all the foods said to increase sexual desire. Lady Hulda admitted to having tried them all, but without the desired results, and she made it clear that she was willing to try anything now, even potions that crossed the line into witchcraft. She wanted magic that would make her husband love her and that would help her give birth to a son. Finally, she took Marie by the shoulders, shaking her in agitation.

“You probably can’t understand this because your noble lineage is still new, but for a member of an old and important family, the greatest wish is for a son and heir. But my womb remained empty after my husband’s last visit! By God and all the saints, I beg you to help me fulfill my husband’s dearest wish. If you succeed, I will be your loyal friend forever.”

Marie hid her smile. The
oh-so
-proud
and haughty Falko von Hettenheim lacked a son to whom he could leave his title and possessions. In her eyes, that was the perfect punishment for the man who had insulted her grievously and whom she secretly blamed for Michel’s disappearance. She initially thought to reject Hulda’s request as diplomatically as possible, but then she remembered the remedy Hiltrud had used to help her get pregnant with Trudi. According to her friend, it worked for every woman physically capable of bearing children, but so far it had yielded only girls. Since Hulda’s father was a close confidant of the count palatine, Sir Falko could neither divorce her nor put her in a nunnery. So he would have to continue to visit her bed to try for an heir, and Marie thought it ideal to help him father more daughters in return for his arrogance and unwanted advances.

Frowning as if deep in thought, Marie beckoned the woman closer. “My friend on the goat farm, where we are headed, knows a brew of herbs that helps women have many children. I had been waiting for a child for years and only conceived after I drank that potion. I had a daughter, but Hiltrud herself gave birth to three strong boys with its help.”

Hulda von Hettenheim hung on her every word. “Do you think your friend will give me her potion?”

Marie shrugged, appearing uncertain and wanting to keep Hulda in suspense. “I don’t know. She might be afraid to share her remedy with such a noble lady. She’s a simple woman and usually just gives the brews to her cows to ensure they bear calves.” Marie had no idea if this was true, but knew it might well be.

Hulda folded her hands in front of her chest and gazed intently at Marie. “Please help me convince this woman to give me her potion!” she pleaded.

“I will try, Lady Hulda. But neither the goat farmer nor I can guarantee that it will work.”

Sir Falko’s wife waved dismissively. “I want this remedy, whatever the cost!” Her maid agreed eagerly and told Marie that money wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’m sure she’ll give you the brew out of the goodness of her heart, because, after all, it’s still in God’s hands whether the remedy will bring you an heir.” After dangling the carrot in front of the lady’s nose, Marie now withdrew it a little so Hulda wouldn’t take out her anger on Hiltrud when the remedy failed to yield its expected result. Marie thought a dozen more daughters would serve Falko right.