Twelfth Krampus Night (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Beate used the lingering roar to her advantage. She grabbed Heinrich's tankard, whirled, and crushed it into Wilhelm's face, knocking him over a table. Heinrich punched Mumfred in the diaphragm and then rammed his head onto a tabletop, leaving the steward in a dazed heap on the floor. Heinrich and Beate fled the great hall, frantic to find the inner courtyard.

Realizing they had not passed anyone as they ran, they slowed to walk out of the building, as if nothing had happened.

“We have to hide.” Beate casually pointed toward the gatehouse. “We're trapped in here as long as the gate is down.”

“Maybe not.” Heinrich grabbed Beate's hand and they hastened their pace to the gatehouse, the interior of which was awash in candlelight. An oafish guard with a scraggly yellow beard wandered out.

“State your business.”

“Lord Karl is allowing us to stay in the seamstress's and blacksmith's quarters for the evening, and that is where we wish to go,” Heinrich said.

“Pleased to meet you. This is our first time in the castle. It's so…” Beate lingered for the word, “…majestic.” She smiled at the guard. “And to sleep in one.” She flirtatiously brushed her hand against his chain-mail-covered shoulder. “You are so lucky to do so every night!”

The guard sheepishly grinned. “Well, I mean, I get to sleep on the
floor
. I'm not a knight—not
yet
. I still must prove my worth to the baron and—”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but Lords Karl and Wilhlem have provided us with so much excitement, I'm now woozy, and I really must lie down.” Beate swept the back of her hand against her forehead.

Heinrich nervously glanced over his shoulder, looking at the great hall's moonlit entrance, dreading Mumfred and Wilhelm would burst from it.

“Well, all right. I remember seeing you two come in here with them. Enjoy your stay.” The guard poked his head through the gatehouse door. “Open it!”

Beate and Heinrich bounced on the balls of their feet as the spiked door clanked open. “Thank you,” they said simultaneously and rushed under it—Heinrich nearly scraping the top of his head on a rusty spike.

“She must really be tired,” they heard the guard mutter, and then made their way toward the seamstress's quarters.

“We're not hiding in there,” Beate said. “That's exactly where they'll look.”

“Along with the blacksmith's,” Heinrich said.

“Then
where
?”

Beate and Heinrich approached a cluster of six small apartments—one-room dwellings wedged together—lining the curtain wall. Two rooms appeared occupied based on the wavering candlelight visible through shuttered windows.

“Do we know any villagers who stay here who could hide us?” Beate said.

“Let's just knock and ask to come in.” Heinrich approached the crude wooden door resting against the entrance.

“Anyone caught hiding us will be in as much trouble as we are,” Beate said. “We can't endanger them.”

She turned to Heinrich and her eyes widened. Heinrich pivoted, saw the danger and sprinted to save Beate, yanking her from the doorway where an arrow struck a second later.

“Stop them!”

They recognized Wilhelm's voice and saw, next to the raised portcullis, a dark figure pull an arrow from the quiver behind his back. They assumed the tall figure standing next to him to be Mumfred, and a third person, leaning against the wall in obvious distress, to be Karl.

Beate and Heinrich raced toward the stables built between the curtain walls on the castle's left side. Arrows whistled by the couple and smacked the stone walls. Wilhelm ran alongside the gatehouse's front wall to intercept them. They charged by a corner and were momentarily out of Wilhelm's view. They knew he'd round the bend and see them taking shelter in the stables, which spanned the length between curtain walls, creating a barrier to the other side. It was their only option.

The two-tiered building had twelve stables visible from the front. Heinrich knew the leftmost part of the building, featuring a closed wooden door, housed the marshal. Someone was always inside, especially if guests were staying in the rooms built on the structure's second floor.

“Can you jump?” Heinrich called to Beate.

“I hope so!”

“Follow me!” Heinrich didn't slow as he approached the third closed stall from the right. He planted both hands on the five-foot-tall door, jumped and vaulted into the stall. Beate felt an extra kick of adrenaline and did likewise just as an arrow split through the stall door.

The unoccupied stall's rear opened up top so that a horse could loom over the rail. It was dark enough for the pair to hop that opening and stand in the aisle separating the twelve stalls visible from the front of the building from a dozen similar stalls opening behind the stables. A few horses poked their heads into the aisle, hoping for a carrot.

From their darkened position, Beate and Heinrich saw Wilhelm charging toward the stables along with more men—guards, they reasoned, summoned to hunt them.

“Do we cut through the stables and keep running?” Heinrich said.

“Uli!” Beate gasped, excited to see Heinrich's horse in the stall to the left of the one they had scaled. The horse eagerly dangled his head over the interior door so they could stroke him.

“I forgot that they housed him here after we arrived.” Heinrich patted Uli from his forehead to nose.

Beate looked around. “I have an idea.”

Chapter Fifteen

“What's good for the wretched, shit-smelling goose is good for the gander!” Perchta hid in the forest's shadows a distance away from the castle. She held a long knife at the ready as a foul monster—its barrel again strapped to its back—trudged toward her.

“If you'd be so kind as to return my knives,” she said.

“First things first.” The beast picked the crossbow arrow from its forehead as if it were no more than a splinter and snapped it in half with one hand and then turned its back to the hag. “Take them.”

She lingered on her tiptoes to pluck the three throwing knives protruding from Krampus and then sheathed them in her boots.

Both of them stunk of fetid water and shit. The hag ripped the mucky fur cloak from her body and flung it into the woods. “I cannot fathom the cleaning bill on that one!” Her dress clung to her body and made wet sucking sounds when she moved.

“What about the rules?” Krampus said. “You went right for the castle's entrance. That was out of bounds. I was perfectly justified knocking you in.”

“Are you serious?
Rules
?” Perchta tucked the long blade into her belt and wiped away the gunk that constantly trickled into her eyes. “I said that so you'd go around the side and give me a clear shot at the front.”

Krampus shook himself like a dog, sending Perchta for cover behind a tree. She reemerged once the splatters against the trunk stopped.

He paid no attention to her and focused on the castle, torchlight zooming back and forth along the wall walks. “They will be expecting me to jump again.” Krampus turned to the hag. “Or are you expecting them to lower the drawbridge anytime soon?”

She eyed him, tapping her foot, and then glanced away. “No. I'm stumped about how to get in there.”

Krampus again viewed the castle, looking at the outermost stone corner closest to him. “Hmmm. That might work.”

“
What
might work?” She strode right next to him and repeatedly poked his ribs, demanding an answer. “Every guard and knight left in that castle will be lining the upper walls. If you so much as poke your big ugly mug between the battlements, they'll shoot or hack at it.”

He didn't reply, but then his body flinched, not in fright, but in recognition of something so patently obvious that he was surprised it hadn't occurred to him earlier.

“Are we even here for the same person?” Krampus said.

“What do you mean?”

The giant reached into a small pouch that he'd nailed to his barrel and pulled out a tied-up scroll that mercifully hadn't been soaked with waste. He removed the twine and unrolled the parchment, looking for the desired spot. Finding it, he held open the scroll in both hands and shoved it in front of Perchta's face.

“There, the name that's not been scratched out—you see who I'm after?”

“It's pitch-black out!”

“What? Oh, yeah. I forgot. Hold this.” He handed her the scroll. “Keep it open and wait right here.”

Krampus lumbered toward the castle, emerging from the darkness and onto a patch of clear, flat rock under moonlight. The torches held by guards scrambling along the walls began converging in one spot, facing Krampus. He grumbled, out of annoyance, and then roared to announce his arrival.

From the castle: “Fire!”

Dozens of flaming arrows flew from atop the wall, arching like little comets to rain on Krampus, who hopped and wove out of the paths of all but one that sizzled straight toward his head. Figuring its trajectory, he stepped aside and, at the precise moment, tilted his skull sideways.

Perchta from within the shadows grimaced when the arrow struck. Then she straightened herself, realizing why he had deliberately made himself a target. Krampus trundled back and plucked the flaming arrow from the base of his left horn and held the burning stick toward the scroll in Perchta's hand.

“
Now
do you see who I'm after?”

She focused on the name that hadn't been cut through in red. She squinted at the slashes.

“Is that?”

“Yes, blood,” he said, growing impatient. “Are we after the same person?”

“No. No, we're not.” She handed the scroll back to Krampus and grew reflective, stroking her chin while watching the castle. “Then there was really no reason for us to fall into a lake of shit.”

“We probably should have discussed all of this beforehand.”

“I just assumed we wanted the same scummy urchin. I won't get in your way if you won't get in mine once we're inside,” she said. “How do we get in there?”

Krampus slid off his barrel and plopped it in front of Perchta.

“What of it?” she said.

The monster pulled out a link of chain, bigger and heavier than the one he had used to slap her in the moat. The links kept coming.

“How can they all be in there?” she said.

He coiled the chain on the ground. “How did Jesus feed thousands of people with seven loaves of bread?”

She stayed quiet, and then said, “But why do you need so much?”

“To get into the castle.”

“
How
?” she said.

Deeming he had enough chain, he pulled the last link from the barrel and left it in a pile. He then stomped his hoof on the ground, hitting dirt. He continued until he struck solid rock, and made a satisfied noise. “Get your knives ready.”

Chapter Sixteen

Wilhelm, accompanied by two interior gatehouse guards—including the oaf, Bernd—and trailed by his ailing brother, entered the stables' small office and was greeted by Klaus, the marshal, who stood from behind a tiny desk.

Wilhelm, his longbow slung over his shoulder, explained the situation to the bewildered caretaker.

“I heard nothing, my lord. No sounds of disturbance. And nobody's been through here to access the second floor.” Klaus motioned to a wooden stairwell in the back of the office, which led to the building's upper guestrooms.

“When was the last time you checked the stalls?”

“After the messenger and the two knights left to retrieve your father.”

“Nice to know you've been sitting on your ass most of the evening.”

Klaus, a former knight in his thirties who had assumed the marshal's job after a battlefield leg injury left him with a bad limp, blushed, then said, “I was about to feed the horses before you arrived.”

“Then let's go feed them.” Wilhelm, familiar with the layout, didn't wait for Klaus and passed through the office's small doorway that led to the stalls. Klaus hurried to light the four glass-covered lanterns hanging an equal distance from each other down the aisle.

Wilhelm's black courser, stabled in the stall immediately to his left, nuzzled the lord with his nose.

“Not now, Horst.” Wilhelm leaned over Horst's stall door and saw empty space save for scattered hay and manure. “His water trough is dry, Klaus. Correct that.”

“Aye, my lord. He'll get his oats too, as will your brother's horse.”

“Karl's horse will likely grow obese this winter, as he probably won't be riding it until his penis heals.”

“
What
?”

Karl stumbled in from the office. “For God's sake, Wilhelm, not everyone has to know.”

Klaus, confused, turned to Karl. “My lord, is there something wrong with your horse's penis?”

“No, you moron!” Wilhelm scolded Klaus. “It's Karl's penis! Now feed the damn horses!”

Klaus scrambled for a sack of oats and avoided eye contact with Karl. Wilhelm took charge.

“Bernd, go to the second floor. Check the rooms just in case.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Wilhelm turned to the other guard, Anton. “You take the stalls to your left. Karl and I will check the ones on this side.”

Anton nodded and got to work on the stall next to Wilhelm's horse. Karl took the opposite stall that was strewn with haystacks and a three-tined hayfork propped against the wall—an apparent makeshift storage area. He unsheathed a long dagger, slowly opened the swing door, and repeatedly stuck and slashed the hay. He rested after a few swings, his pain obvious. “No one's there.”

Wilhelm observed and spoke to Klaus, who was pouring oats into the courser's food trough. “Is there hay like that in all the stalls?”

“No, my lord. Just the one your brother checked and the one farthest back on the left.”

“Anton, I'll handle it,” Wilhelm told the guard and then stalked to the stall in question. It too was piled with hay reaching his waist. Wilhelm drew his own knife, opened the door and kicked and slashed the straw. “Damn it.”

He turned and saw in the opposite stall Uli's backside. Uli greeted the lord by raising its tail and defecating apple-sized blobs.

Wilhelm wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell and peeked over the stall door: nothing but fresh shit and a few hay strands.

“He had a blade,” Wilhelm blurted. Out of curiosity the lord extended his dagger and tapped the horse's saddlebags to see if the weapon might be stowed in one.

“I gave the porter the boy's knife, my lord.” It was Mumfred, who had caught up to the hunting party and wore around his forehead a large white bandage, highlighted by a gooey red blotch in the middle. “They're not armed.”

“As far as we can tell.” Wilhelm watched Klaus pour oats into Karl's horse's trough. The brown animal was stabled two stalls down from Wilhelm's courser and eagerly began chomping its dinner. “No saddle.” Wilhelm checked his courser, saw it wore no saddle, and examined two other stalled, unsaddled horses.

“Klaus, you unsaddle the horses, correct?”

“Always, my lord. We place them next to the stall doors for easy access.”

Wilhelm confirmed this by scanning the ground, and then pointed to Heinrich's horse.

“Then why is this one wearing a saddle—”

Two bodies dropped from the beamed ceiling, landing on Uli—Heinrich square in the saddle, and Beate hugging him. “Go, Uli!” Heinrich slapped the horse's rear.

Uli nudged the unlatched exterior door, which crept open, and then slid out, building speed and galloping across the courtyard.

“Bastard!” Wilhelm frantically tugged his bow off his shoulder and in his clumsy haste swung it, knocking a lantern off its hook and into the stall behind him. He knew there'd be trouble when he heard the glass break.

Flames immediately clawed skyward as fire consumed hay.

“Move!” Klaus, holding a bucket, wobbled past the lord and threw water into the stall, but the fire spread too rapidly, triggering the horses to scream.

“Get out of here, everyone!” Klaus ran to first free the lords' stallions. Anton took care to release the other stabled horses. Bernd stuck his head into the stables.

“Nobody was upstairs—uh-oh.”

Wilhelm stomped through Uli's open stall, and the fresh manure, to freedom, and drew an arrow from his quiver. Two mares ran by him and he lowered his bow. He ran back into the stables, the fire licking the ceiling beams, to see Klaus had freed Karl's horse and was in the process of slapping the courser to run. “Wait!”

Wilhelm shouldered his bow, grabbed the saddle from the floor and said as he walked by Klaus, “Bring Horst away from stables. Now.”

Wilhelm saddled and mounted Horst as the fire spread to the second floor. He looked through the flames to the other side of the stables, through which the couple had escaped, and breathed easier when he saw Karl and the others were safe.

He slapped Horst to run counterclockwise around the inner curtain wall. The horse thundered into the front courtyard, and for the first time Wilhelm noticed almost every castle guard had taken positions on the wall walks. He spotted Heinrich and Beate, still atop their horse, pleading with the front gatehouse guard to raise the portcullis and drop the bridge. Wilhelm grabbed his bow, drew and aimed at Beate's back, hoping the arrow would skewer her and Heinrich where they sat.

First came a massive boom. Then the bastion built to the left of the front gatehouse shook. The noise and vibration rattled Wilhelm. He fired and cursed because he knew he was off, the arrow whizzing by Heinrich, snapping against a stone wall.

A deafening crunch; more stones shaking; sentries posted within the battlements, frantic to get out; guards on both sides of the bastion firing arrows; some of the guards dropping where they stood.

Otto, from atop the wall walk, saw Wilhelm and screamed.

“Get to the bergfried! The castle's under siege!”