Wolfbreed (30 page)

He shouldered his bag, wiped the shit off his face, and started walking to Johannisburg.

ldolf walked up to the gates of the village. Beyond the walls, Johannisburg was a crowded hive of activity, timber houses crowding each other over the narrow muddy streets. Above it all was the mound on which Johannisburg Keep squatted like a lumpy gray toad. The air was thick with the smell of too many people and animals in too cramped a space.

A bored guardsman walked up to him from his station by the edge of the gate. “Greetings, good man. You approach the Christian city of Johannisburg. In the name of the Hospital of St. Mary
of the Germans in Jerusalem I must ask your name, where from you hail, and your purpose in coming here.”

Uldolf recognized him. “Lankut?”

The man blinked a moment, looked Uldolf up and down, and laughed. “Apologies, I didn’t recognize you with all the shit on your clothes.”

“You can thank the ‘personal representative of His Holiness’ who just galloped through here.”

Lankut snorted. “The bishop? Lord forgive me, but I thought the knights of the Order were arrogant pricks—then I met him. I think he’s convinced that Prûsans all secretly worship Satan, or rape the livestock, or piss in his beer …”

“I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“While you do that, you can wonder about the hundred or so soldiers and knights they have up at the castle. So how’s your family?”

Uldolf spent a few moments catching up with his friend. He told Lankut about things at the farm—leaving out the parts involving Lilly—and Lankut let him know about the wave of armed Germans who had invaded Johannisburg. Germans to which were just added one Italian bishop and his attendants.

Lankut repeated the story that the knight who’d come to the farm had told him. They were looking for a redhead with green eyes, seventeen years old, a witch and a murderess. He knew that fourteen men had died up at the castle about three weeks ago, a week before all the Germans came.

Fourteen men?

As to how the men died, rumors abounded. Demons, wild beasts, and an invading war party were all possibilities. While the Order itself said that the witch they hunted had conjured a monster, Lankut was enough of a Prûsan to be skeptical whenever they brought up the term
witch
. The priests and priestesses of the old religions here were not in the habit of summoning murderous
hellspawn. If they had been, this town would probably still be named Mejdân.

“So, what theory do you subscribe to?” Uldolf hoped it would be a little less disturbing than the one Lankut voiced about witches and monsters. It was a vain hope.

“The only one that makes sense is they are worried about a revolt,” Lankut said. “Half of Prûsa, east of Balga, is still ruled by tribes that would love nothing more than to push the Christians back into Kulmerland. After eight years, a counterattack is inevitable.”

Uldolf lowered his voice. “Lankut, you almost sound cheerful at the prospect. Aren’t you a Christian?”

“I serve my Lord Jesus Christ,
not
the Germans. I don’t share the opinion that a Christian Prûsa needs rule by a foreign sect of armed monks.”

Uldolf shook his head. “What about the woman?”

“Isn’t it obvious? What’s the most fearful thing the Order faces? That the tribes of Prûsa stop fighting among themselves and unite against them. How would you do that?”

“I don’t—”

Lankut slapped Uldolf’s shoulder. “Marriage, you fool. You put the right families together, and instead of facing a dozen clans, the Germans face four, or three, or two …”

“You think she’s betrothed to someone?”

“Why else would they hunt so hard for her, unless she represented that kind of political threat?”

Uldolf nodded. Lankut’s argument had some merit, especially in light of how many soldiers had descended on Johannisburg. It made more sense if the Germans were expecting some sort of rebellion. “That makes sense, though I haven’t heard about anything like that here before.”

“No.” Lankut smiled at him. “I am sure
you
haven’t.”

Uldolf’s brow furrowed as he looked at Lankut. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Nothing of import. You still haven’t stated your business in Johannisburg.”

“I came to trade some skins, maybe stay a night or two.”

“I am sure.” Lankut hadn’t stopped smiling.

They stood there looking at each other for a while. Uldolf finally asked, “Aren’t you going to claim the Order’s share?”

“Between us,” Lankut lowered his voice, “the Order is in no need of your taxes or tithe right now.”

“Pardon me?”

“Enter freely, son of Radwen.” Lankut gestured into the village.

Uldolf frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“As I said, nothing of import.”

“You can’t be thinking … Do you have any idea how wrong you are?”

“Of course, Uldolf. Everything I’ve told you is mere speculation. The Order doesn’t deign to tell us poor heathen Prûsans what is going on.” Lankut leaned forward. “But at the end of the third path to the right is an inn run by an old man with no reason to love the Germans.”

“Thank you.”

“All I ask is that, should you have the opportunity, please remember those who treated you fairly.”

Uldolf walked into Johannisburg, pulling his mud-splattered cloak about himself to better conceal his missing arm. He prayed that no one else was under Lankut’s misapprehension that being the crippled son of the last chief of Mejdân somehow placed him in the leadership of a Prûsan revolt.

rhard was discussing the ongoing search with his fellow knights when the great hall suddenly echoed with heavy footfalls and butchered German.

“Brother Erhard!”

Even had Erhard not been uncomfortably familiar with the voice, he would have known who it was. None of the brethren had the arrogance to raise their voices in such an unseemly manner. Bishops, on the other hand …

“Brother Erhard!”

He quietly dismissed his fellows and turned to face the invader, who stomped down the center of the hall toward him. A petty impulse, and one that Erhard was almost ashamed of, made him stand and wait for the corpulent bishop to walk all the way to him.

When Bishop Cecilio reached him, Erhard made a token obeisance and said, “Welcome to Johannisburg, Your Grace.”

“What work of Satan has been happening here?”

“Lilly escaped.”

The bishop’s mouth opened, then closed, briefly making him resemble a fresh-caught herring gasping in the air. “Lilly?” he sputtered.

“That’s her name.”

“You named it?” The bishop shook his head. “A Christian name?”

Erhard had not named her, but it seemed pointless to explain Brother Semyon’s penchant for floral appellations.

The bishop continued. “I am unsure if you are deliberately flouting God’s will in this matter, are willfully ignorant, or simply incompetent.”

“Your Grace, might I remind you that this is the Order’s house, and not your bishopric?”

The bishop pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his voluminous robes and slapped it against Erhard’s chest. “Consider your words, Brother Erhard. I was not the only one appalled at the situation here.”

Erhard took the parchment and saw that it was closed with the seal of the Hochmeister.

He shook his head, knowing what he was about to read, but not wanting to believe it. He broke the seal and read the short note.

Johannisburg, for the moment at least,
was
now part of the bishopric of Bishop Cecilio.

The man doesn’t even speak Prûsan. He can barely speak acceptable German …

Erhard knew the forces Hochmeister Conrad must be facing. With the twin patrons of the Teutonic Order, pope and emperor, again at each other’s throats, could he do anything but accommodate the pope—especially in something that could be so damaging to the Order?

“Do we have an understanding?” the bishop asked him.

But does the pope’s man have to be so distasteful?
“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good. Then you shall enlighten me now on the evils I have inherited in your wake.”

ishop Cecilio paced while Erhard talked. He pursed his lips and fidgeted, running stubby bejeweled fingers over the fur trim on his robes. It was as if the concepts of discretion and frugality were so alien to the man that even economy of movement was beyond him.

When Erhard finally ended the history of events in Johannisburg, the bishop nodded. He wiped his sweaty palms on his robe and examined Erhard carefully.

“Brother Erhard, I see you ask the right questions. However, I believe you are still too close to these events to reason clearly. You are puzzled because you see this thing as a trained beast.”

“Where do you fault my reasoning?”

“You continue to question why she would choose to escape here in Johannisburg. Then you question why she would stay here in Johannisburg. It seems probable that those two reasons are related, if not the same.”

“And you have discovered the answer?”

“No, Brother Erhard,
you
have. You just haven’t seen it. The death of that knight, what was his name again?”