Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 (17 page)

Eva watched them leave and spat contemptuously. “A whore stays a whore, even if she has a couple of draft animals and a wagon and thinks she’s something better.”

Marie winced at the harsh words and worried about giving her own sad history away with a slip of the tongue, so she stayed quiet when Big Hans first began negotiations with the other women. Handing Trudi back to Marie, Theres carefully examined the goods Schäfflein’s servants laid out in front of her. The clerk and his men discussed financial arrangements with the women with such practiced skill that Marie wondered why Schäfflein had traveled all the way to Wimpfen when he didn’t even take part in negotiations himself. She suspected that Schäfflein had come because he could get away with things there that would have damaged his reputation back home in Worms, such as taking a merchant woman or a prostitute into his tent without consequence.

“And what would you like?” Big Hans impatiently asked Marie, and she saw that the other women were already loading their purchases onto their wagons. Paying little attention to what the other women had chosen, she had already given a lot of thought to what provisions she wanted to buy. Though she had never traveled with an army, she knew what soldiers bought from conversations with Michel and from helping her husband to equip the supply wagons and the pikemen he had taken to Bohemia.

Thinking of the unknown journey ahead and not wanting to waste any money, Marie haggled with Big Hans as if her life depended on it, criticizing both the quality and the exorbitant prices of his goods.

The clerk’s pasty face turned red, and eventually he snapped at Marie. “Who do you think you are? If you complain one more time, you won’t get anything at all and can stay here in Wimpfen and rot.”

Marie patted the purse on her belt. “But that would be unfortunate for your master, who would miss earning some of these shiny guilders.”

“Herr Schäfflein is wealthy enough and doesn’t need your coins.” Big Hans pretended to put all the goods away, but his eyes were on her purse, which was clinking temptingly. If he lost this sale, Schäfflein would be angry and cut his share of the other sales. So he sighed in resignation. “Fine, but you’ll pay two perfect thalers for this barrel of wine.”

“Agreed! But only if it’s good wine, not sour swill.” Marie went to the barrel, opened the bunghole, and sniffed it. After a servant filled a small cup for her to try, she nodded. The wine seemed to come from Schäfflein’s homeland, which was
well-known
for its abundant vineyards.

“All right, two thalers for the wine, but in return you’ll accept my offer for that bale of cloth over there,” she told the clerk.

He shook his head in desperation. “Add a penny a yard; otherwise my master will beat me when he sees how you’ve stolen me blind.”

Marie nodded again and laughed. Now that they both knew where they stood, they soon agreed on the price of the remaining goods, such as leather straps, buttons, needles, and knives. Finally, Marie also bought a good amount of hard cheese,
air-dried
sausages, and ham, which would last for several months, as well as two small barrels of salted herrings, because the soldiers would appreciate a change from the daily monotony of army rations. As she stowed her purchases and checked her purse, she saw she had spent less money than expected, and she felt more positive about the future.

7.

Two days later, Sir Heinrich sounded the horns for departure. His army wasn’t much larger than Michel’s had been, counting among them fifty knights with only a small entourage. Sir Heinrich himself had only his squire, Anselm, and four horsemen, though unlike most of the others, he and his men were well equipped. The knights under his command were for the most part
later-born
sons with little more than a sword and armor to call their own, whose horses looked less like the warhorses of wealthy noblemen and more like they’d been rescued from the slaughterhouse.

Shaking his head, Sir Heinrich surveyed his group. “Once again, it’s the poor souls who have hardly enough to eat who are pulling the chestnuts out of the fire for the kaiser,” he said to Black Eva. “The mighty lords stay tucked in their castles and leave the kaiser to his own devices. They don’t care if all of Bohemia’s on fire, as long as their land isn’t affected by war.”

Sir Heinrich’s bitter words sounded accusatory, as if he were blaming the mighty territorial lords of the Reich for failing to serve their kaiser as was their duty. Like many others, he seemed to be of the opinion that a powerful empire like the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation should have crushed a local uprising like the one in Bohemia long ago. Marie thought of her former patron, Count Eberhard von Württemberg, who had been dead several years. Would he have participated in this war? Probably no more than the other German princes who officially owed allegiance to the kaiser. It looked like Kaiser Sigismund could count only on the help of
later-born
sons of knights of the Reich and imperial estates under his control, and that seemed a bad omen to Marie.

Her face seemed to mirror her thoughts, because Black Eva tapped her shoulder with the end of her whip. “It’s too late for fear, Marie. Do you want to turn your wagon around and return to the fairs to sell your goods?”

Marie squared her shoulders and sat up. “I’m not afraid, and I won’t leave the group.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Hettenheim is a good and, most of all, prudent leader. He would never fall into such a stupid Hussite trap as Heribald von Seibelstorff did two autumns ago.”

Eva’s reply troubled Marie on two counts. First, she mentioned Seibelstorff’s failed campaign during which Michel supposedly died, and second, she called Sir Heinrich by a name that made Marie’s hair stand on end. “What did you just call our leader—Hettenheim?”

“Yes, it’s Heinrich von Hettenheim, of the Frankish branch of the family. You’ve probably heard of his cousin Falko, who has made a name for himself in the Palatinate. But don’t mention the man in Sir Heinrich’s presence, because there’s no love lost between them.” Black Eva clicked her tongue, urging her horses to catch up with the
slow-moving
procession headed for the ferry, which had already started taking the first knights and soldiers across the Neckar.

Marie sensed that the old sutler woman knew more than she was saying, but she’d have to rein in her curiosity for now. Climbing onto her wagon, Marie nestled Trudi securely in her lap and guided her oxen behind Black Eva’s cart. Jumping down from the box, Michi led the nervous oxen onto the barge by their nose rings, managing to get the heavily loaded cart across the swaying planks onto the ferry. On the other side of the Neckar, the ferryman impatiently shooed Marie off his barge, but deftly caught the coin she flicked him, and he bowed to her.

“Happy travels and rich booty in the war,” he called after her as he pushed his barge off again to fetch the next load. As Marie’s wagon turned sharply up the riverbank, Michi nimbly climbed back onto the box seat.

“You shouldn’t do that. It’s too dangerous,” Marie scolded him. “What if you slide off and fall under the wheels?”

In response, Michi flashed a cheeky grin. For the first few days of their trip, he missed his family, downcast at traveling into the unknown with her. But now his eyes sparkled at the sight of every knight, and he walked over to the men as often as he could to listen to their stories. Since he didn’t neglect his duties, Marie accepted his frequent absences with an indulgent smile.

The head of the procession marched on while the ferry was still bringing men across, and Marie worried that Heinrich von Hettenheim had lost track of his group, but over the next few hours she saw she was wrong. Their leader reorganized the various parts of the group shortly after everyone had made it across, forming a rear guard of foot soldiers to help any stuck wagons get moving again as quickly as possible. In the afternoon, he sent a few men ahead to prepare food, hay, and water at their chosen campsite, a little farm town of a knight obligated to the kaiser, who fed the whole group so well, they didn’t have to use any of their provisions.

The procession made its way through numerous valleys and small towns, spending nights near monasteries or castles, whose owners looked after the travelers more or less generously. Marie used the long hours of the march to improve her skill as a wagon driver, and, in the evenings, she listened to the other itinerant merchants exchanging war stories, learning much more about her new trade than she could have imagined. So far, she had sold very little, as the knights and soldiers had brought their own provisions when they left Wimpfen, and the camp prostitutes weren’t making much money, either, as the men were too exhausted at the end of the day to think of women. Marie was surprised at the speed at which Sir Heinrich moved the group along, but when she mentioned it to Eva, the old merchant woman laughed.

“Consider yourself lucky! If the lads are used to a brisk walk, they will not only attack but also retreat fast, which is good since the Hussites are supposed to be rather quick pursuers.”

Thus far, Marie had been so preoccupied with unearthing information about Michel in Nuremberg that she had hardly considered the possibility of getting involved in the war. But now it dawned on her that the path she had taken might lead her right into the Bohemian uprising, facing skirmishes or even big battles, and she started to have doubts. Her first and foremost care had to be for Trudi, her greatest gift from Michel, and for Michi, her best friend’s son. If anything happened to him, she could never face Hiltrud again, and without Trudi, her own life would hardly make sense anymore.

Still tormented by her fears when Sir Heinrich gave the order to stop for the night, she parked her wagon, fetched fresh water, and together with Trudi joined the other women by the campfire to help prepare their evening meal. They were having pancakes once again, and before long some soldiers appeared, sniffing the air, among them Sir Heinrich’s squire, Anselm. Recognizing a few of the men who had helped push her wagon out of the mud at Wimpfen, Eva waved them closer.

“Hey, lads! Come and help yourselves to pancakes. They’re free today.”

The soldiers didn’t have to be asked twice, and they were soon licking tasty fat off their fingers and flirting with Oda, Theres, and especially Marie. Black Eva watched them for a while and put her twisted,
claw-like
hand on Anselm’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to be unfaithful to me, are you, my dearest?” Her words triggered a wave of laughter that attracted Sir Heinrich’s attention. He saw the pancakes and licked his lips.

“They smell so good. My own mother couldn’t make them any better.”

“I think there’s one left, just waiting for you.” Black Eva cheerfully handed the last pancake to the knight.

Marie waited until he was chewing on his last bite, then leaned over to him. “How long will it take us to get to Nuremberg?” Marie couldn’t wait to arrive at the city where the kaiser and many of his liege men had gathered.

Sir Heinrich seemed no less impatient than she was. “If nothing happens and we continue making the same progress, we’ll be there five days from now.”

8.

Two days later, a knight and his squire came riding toward the procession. Sir Heinrich ordered his men to keep going, beckoning the new arrival over. The man, who looked barely over eighteen, reined in his horse and greeted him politely.

“May God be with you, noble lord. Would it be possible for my squire and me to join you?”

“Do you want to accompany us to Nuremberg or become part of my group?”

The young knight’s face darkened. “Just to Nuremberg for a start. I can decide where to go from there.”

Sir Heinrich gave him a friendly nod. “It’s only two or three days to our destination, and until then, you’re welcome as a travel companion.”

“I thank you. My name is Heribert von Seibelstorff, son of Sir Heribald, and I’ve set out to restore the glory of my house.” Though his speech was pompous, it was typical of a young man of his age.

Sir Heinrich placed his right hand on his chest. “Welcome, Junker Heribert. My name is Heinrich von Hettenheim.”

At this introduction, the young knight pulled so sharply on his reins that his brown stallion sidled nervously. “I can’t say that I particularly like the name Hettenheim, because a man of that family has brought shame upon my house,” he explained bluntly, fidgeting as if he wanted to challenge the older knight to a duel on the spot.

Sir Heinrich waved dismissively and gave an annoyed laugh. “I have had nothing to do with your family so far. You must be talking about my cousin Falko von Hettenheim, who is definitely capable of a deed like that. Let me assure you that we’re anything but friends.”

“Then you must be the man who will be his heir if fate doesn’t grant Falko any legitimate sons. I have already heard of you.”

Heinrich von Hettenheim bit his lip and searched for a reply as the procession came to a halt behind them. Climbing down from her wagon, Black Eva approached the young knight curiously. Heribert instinctively backed away from the ugly old woman, staring at her with disgust. Eva ignored his defensive posture and tugged at his stirrup.

“You said you were Sir Heribald’s son? I have traveled with your father many times, and I’m surprised he isn’t personally seeking revenge.”

“I’m sure he would if he were still alive. But after being taken back to our castle badly injured, he died there following several months of illness, and others belittled his glory at the kaiser’s court to elevate their own.” Junker Heribert had spoken passionately, but he suddenly realized that he had answered to a simple merchant woman. With an annoyed snort, he steered his horse past Eva without so much as another glance. The woman’s eyes followed him with an almost compassionate smile. Then she returned to her comrades, who were also climbing down from their wagons.

“We have received reinforcements,” she explained with a smirk, “if that’s what you call a child like Heribert von Seibelstorff. Imagine, that Junker wanted to fight our good Heinrich, just because he’s a Hettenheim.”

The other women laughed, but Marie stood
stock-still
. “Who has come, a Seibelstorff knight?”

“Yes, old Heribald’s son. His father was an old curmudgeon, though not really the brightest. But he would have let himself get cut to pieces for his men anytime.” Pinching together her lips, Eva shrugged. “And according to his son, that’s exactly what happened.”

Since the procession had started to move again, the women hurried back to their wagons and took up their reins. After prodding her oxen along, Marie stared into the distance, her thoughts swirling around in her head. She knew the name Heribald von Seibelstorff all too well, because Michel supposedly died under his command. Up ahead, young Heribert was taking his place in the procession with his squire. She yearned to know why he hated the name Hettenheim so much, since his behavior seemed to confirm the report of the Frankish knight whose version of the battles in Bohemia had been met at court with resentment by the palatine nobles. She decided to question Sir Heribert that evening.

The hours seemed to creep by more slowly than usual. Marie was irritated by the buzzing of every fly, and for the first time, even Trudi’s cheerful chatter annoyed her. When she could no longer bear it, she handed the girl to Michi and told him to feed her some porridge, but he soon sneaked away to let Anselm show him how to handle a pike.

Marie briefly considered leaving her daughter with one of the other merchant women, but they were rushing back and forth between their wagons and the fire to prepare dinner, and didn’t have time to look after a child. So she picked up Trudi and walked over to Heribert von Seibelstorff’s tent. She had gotten so used to the admiring looks she received when she walked through the camp that she hardly noticed them anymore. Most men respected her, and some of them were even rather shy around her, because she was the most beautiful woman in the group.

As Marie approached Heribert von Seibelstorff, the young knight was glumly sitting in front of his simple tent, and his squire was trying for the third time to call his attention to the plate of bratwursts being held out to him. The smell of the sausages awoke Marie’s hunger and gave her an opening for her conversation with the Junker.

She stepped in front of him with a smile. “Good evening, sir. I see you have some bratwursts among your provisions. Since they won’t keep for very long, I’d like to buy some from you. I can pay with silver or a few cups of wine.”

Erupting in anger and about to send Marie away, Heribert von Seibelstorff immediately stopped his tirade when he glanced up and saw her standing before him. He had never beheld anything lovelier than this woman with the child in her arms. Leaping to his feet without paying any attention to his plate that slid to the ground, spilling the bratwursts onto the grass, he gazed at her. “Who are you, beautiful woman?”

Surprised by his intense reaction, Marie took a step back. “My name is Marie, and I’m an itinerant merchant.”

“Marie? Like the Holy Virgin, the Mother of God!”

“Except I’m missing the
y
at the end of my name to make me a proper Mary.” Marie had dealt with Michel’s younger followers often enough to know that a cheerful word or a joke at the right moment could help put them at ease. And indeed, a boyish smile spread over Heribert’s face, and he remembered her question.

“Görch, bring four of the best bratwursts we have,” he ordered his servant. The squire looked sadly at the sausages lying on the grill in front of him, which were supposed to be his. Sighing, he placed them on a board and took them to Heribert, who handed them to Marie.

“I thank you, sir. If these bratwursts taste as good as they smell, then I’ve never had better ones.”

Her praise flattered Görch, and he smiled at her with pride. “There are no better bratwursts than ours.”

Setting Trudi down, Marie started to eat with relish. The servant hadn’t lied. Not even Hiltrud made sausages as good as these, and she had become a master of the craft. “Thank you,” Marie said to the Junker when she’d finished her first sausage. Then she smiled at the squire.

“A good deed is worth its reward. Tonight, you and your master can have as much of my wine as you like.”

Heribert politely demurred. “One cup for my squire and one for me is enough, or my Görch just gets drunk and is of no use for anything the next day. And please tell the other merchant women not to give Görch more wine than he needs.”

Noticing that he spoke to her like a lady of rank, Marie wondered if she had somehow given herself away. She hoped that no one else noticed his respectful address, or just thought it was the exaggeration of an easily aroused young man—which it probably was. With a friendly wave, Heribert invited Marie to take a seat on the tree stump alongside him.

Marie was glad she didn’t need another excuse to start a conversation with him. Leaving some distance between them as she sat down, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His initial unease seemed to return, because he swallowed several times as if about to speak, then eventually stretched out his arms to Trudi, who was running around with astonishing agility for her age. To Marie’s surprise, her daughter walked toward the Junker and let him pick her up.

“She reminds me of my little sister,” Heribert said with a smile. His servant stared at him in confusion.

“But, sir, Fräulein Hella is already twelve years old.”

“But it wasn’t so long ago that she looked just like this little one. What’s your name?” Heribert asked, gently holding the girl up to his face.

“Udi,” she replied without a hint of shyness.

“Trudi, or Hiltrud, actually,” Marie added.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful child,” the young knight said, while giving Marie a look that made it clear whom he found the lovelier.

“She is seventeen months old and quite big for her age,” Marie told them proudly.

“Didn’t you say something about a cup of wine before, Frau Marie?” Görch begged before his master could reply.

She nodded and got to her feet. “And I will keep my promise. May I leave Trudi in your care while I fetch the wine, sir?”

At first startled by the question, Heribert then smiled with delight. “Gladly, my lady.”

He was happy that Marie entrusted her daughter to him, because that meant she had to come back and keep him company for a while longer. He already longed to see her again and hear her voice, which sounded to him as sweet as the voice of an angel.

Marie soon returned with three cups and a jug of wine. “Your bratwursts make one thirsty,” she explained with a laugh.

“You are right!” Görch exclaimed, quickly grabbing the largest cup for himself and sitting on the ground near them. Since Marie only sipped her wine and Sir Heribert didn’t drink much, either, the squire didn’t go thirsty that night. Conversation flowed easily, and Marie barely had to ask any questions before both the Junker and his servant were vying to tell her the story of the Seibelstorff family, from its steady rise to its sudden fall through no fault of its own.

“We have suffered disfavor with the kaiser, and it’s the fault of this Falko von Hettenheim,” the Junker explained grimly. “My father always stood by him and covered his mistakes, because he hoped to make a strong leader of him. And how did this dishonorable man repay him? When my father was ill and defenseless, Falko completely twisted the stories about his campaign, blaming my father for Falko’s own mistakes and slandering him until the kaiser relieved him of his duties. My father’s death was caused more by humiliation than by his injuries, and that’s why I will join the army and confront Hettenheim and challenge him to a duel.”

Marie carefully steered the conversation away from his angry tirade. “Your father must have had other knights besides Falko under his command. Have you ever heard the name Michel Adler?”

“Oh yes, I remember the name well. He was a Palatinate like Hettenheim, but a brave one. On his deathbed, my father regretted having listened to Falko and ignoring Adler’s good advice.”

“Sir Heribald always said that things would have turned out better with Adler by his side,” Görch added.

“I wonder what happened to this Michel Adler,” Marie continued.

“He supposedly died during a skirmish with the Hussites, or at least that’s what Falko von Hettenheim said. He was the leader of Adler’s group and fell into a Bohemian ambush. Later, one of the survivors was struck by an ax and confessed to my father just before he died that Hettenheim had left Michel Adler behind severely injured.”

That was exactly what Marie had suspected all along. Falko von Hettenheim had betrayed her husband, and if he was dead, it was as much Falko’s fault as if he had slain him with his own hands. But she wasn’t ready to give up hope yet.

“Could Michel Adler still be alive, either as a Hussite prisoner or as a refugee in the Bohemian Forest?”

Heribert shook his head. “The Hussites don’t take prisoners. What my father told me about their cruelty is enough to strike terror into the hearts of the toughest men. And even if Adler, despite his injuries, had managed to escape the rebels and survive in the forest, he would have died during the winter, when the east wind howls through the mountains, burying everything under snow and ice.” He frowned and looked closely at Marie. “Why are you so interested in Adler? Did you know him?”

Marie decided to tell at least part of the truth. “I know him from my childhood, because we’re from the same city.”

“Then remember him as a hero. With his courage and prudence, he not only saved my father’s life, but also that of the kaiser and many brave knights.” Heribert’s eyes shone in his admiration for Michel.

His words briefly filled her with joy, but then pain and desperation washed over her, threatening to drag her down as she realized that nothing in Heribert’s account suggested that Michel might have survived. Nevertheless, she would continue her search and keep asking around until she was absolutely sure of what happened. But her current task at hand was to help the Junker. As much as she hated Falko von Hettenheim and cursed him for knowingly leaving Michel behind, she didn’t want a duel between him and the young Seibelstorff, which the inexperienced youth wouldn’t survive.

“I don’t think it’s very wise to challenge Falko von Hettenheim just yet,” she began cautiously. “Even if you and I know it’s unfounded, he does have a favorable reputation. Why don’t you first win your spurs in the fight against the Hussites and restore honor to your name. Then I’m sure you’ll find an opportunity to tear the mask of falsehood off Sir Falko’s face before cutting him down.”

Heinrich von Hettenheim, who had spotted the small group and come closer, put his hand on Heribert von Seibelstorff’s shoulder at Marie’s words and nodded gravely. “Marie is right. Don’t pick a fight with my cousin before you’ve gained more experience. He doesn’t fight honorably, and he has many tricks up his sleeve to help him win.”

Young Seibelstorff shook off Heinrich’s hand and shot to his feet. “I’m not afraid of Sir Falko.”

“Of course not, because unlike him, you’re a brave man with his heart in the right place, but wait until you’ve learned even more skills in battle before facing my cousin.”