CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

 

The girl was waiting when he got back to the hut, her satchel packed. She raised her head as Rudi burst through the door.

“Did you find him?” she asked. Her expression changed from curiosity to alarm as she read the look on his face. “Shallya’s mercy, what happened?”

“Gerhard. Coming here.” It wasn’t the most comprehensive explanation, but it was the most important point to get across. The rest could wait until he was able to come to some understanding about it himself, if he ever did. Hanna’s face paled. “You have to get out!”

“He’s still after me?” Her voice was tainted with disbelief, and barely-suppressed anger. “I thought he knew…”

“No. Me.” Rudi gasped for breath, and began to collect bits and pieces from the single-roomed house. A knife, his other shirt and breeches that were still damp and strung up in front of the fireplace, and a tinderbox and a couple of spare flints. That was it. Not much to show for sixteen years of life, but mercifully portable. He stuffed them into a bag, on top of his snares, and slung it across his shoulder. Hanna gaped at him.

“You? Why?”

“I don’t really know.” That much was true. “I found that site in the forest. My father was there…” A hard knot of emotion he lacked the insight to analyse threatened to choke him for a moment, and his voice faltered.

“You found him?” Hanna asked. Her tone suggested that she already had an inkling of the answers to her questions. “Is he with you?”

“He’s dead.” The words burst from him as though he was coughing them up. Articulating them brought out the feeling of the gaping void in the centre of his life all over again. It made no sense. Gunther had always been there: how could the world exist without him? “There were beastmen…” His words choked off, and became racking sobs as grief overwhelmed him at last. Perhaps it was the shock wearing off.

“I’m sorry.” Hanna made the sign of the dove and walked towards him, hovering with the embarrassed lack of purpose near strangers have when confronted with strong emotions. After a moment of indecision she hugged him awkwardly and patted him on the back as though his misery was an attack of the hiccoughs. “Let it out. You’ll feel better.”

“I’m fine.” Rudi pulled free after a moment and sniffed glutinously. He felt oddly embarrassed. Men didn’t do that sort of thing. “It just suddenly hit me, that’s all.”

“It’s bound to,” Hanna said, squeezing his hand, before letting go a little too quickly. She picked up her bundle of belongings and slung them over her shoulder. “But I don’t see where Gerhard comes in. Why’s he after you?”

“He was there too,” Rudi said, lifting a loose hearthstone to reveal his hoard of pennies. He tipped them into his belt pouch, and tested the weight of them: a satisfying amount. There were more coins than he remembered. It was a testament to how busy he’d been since the pestilence started.

“Fighting the beastmen?” Hanna asked with confusion stamped on her features. Rudi scooped what food he could find into his bag on top of his other possessions, and followed Hanna to the door.

“No, afterwards.” He left the door open. There was no point latching it, he never expected to return. He fought down the surge of emotion the thought provoked, and spoke rapidly, trying to take refuge in calm deliberation. “They’d already killed everyone. Hans was with them. What he’s become, I mean.”

“Wait a minute.” Hanna took his arm again as they entered the darkness of the forest, and began following the path to Kohlstadt. “There were other people there too?”

“Yes.” Rudi took a deep breath. “There was a party or something going on. Magnus and my father were there, and lots of other people. The beastmen attacked them, and left. Then Gerhard and the militia arrived.”

“I see.” Hanna’s voice in the darkness beside him belied her words; it was still imbued with confusion. Her light grip on his upper arm tightened for a moment as she briefly lost her balance. “And while this was going on you were…”

“Hiding. In the forest.” He’d become so adept at dissembling in the last few days that the half-truth slipped out without a second thought. “Just as well I was, too, or he’d have killed me on the spot.”

“Why? What was he doing there?” Her voice was becoming anxious now.

“Looking for heretics. He thought he’d found them, and when he saw my father’s body he ordered my arrest. If he catches me…” His voice trailed away. Hanna’s grip tightened again, though it was a gesture of sympathy and understanding this time.

“I know how you feel,” she said.

The woods were beginning to thin out now. Thin slivers of sickly green moonlight seeped through the trees, making the going a good deal easier for their dark-adapted eyes and they began to pick up the pace. As they cleared the tree line the whole valley spread out before them, limned in diseased-looking shadows. From habit Rudi scanned the horizon, looking for the yellow sparks of the cottages which formed a constellation of familiar landmarks, but of course there were none to be seen. Most of the people in the area were still huddled inside the village, waiting for Gerhard to tell them what to do. The only lights he could discern were the ones inside the stockade, and a single orange glow between them and it.

Greta’s cottage, he thought, with a surge of relief. At least she was home. The light seemed unusually bright, though. At first he attributed this to the unusual darkness of the night.

As they drew closer to the cottage the light became brighter still, more intense than could be made by even the most efficient oil lamp. A sense of foreboding began to overwhelm him.

“Dear Shallya, no…” Hanna’s voice beside him was soft, and tinged with horror. Heedless of the darkness surrounding them, and the dangers presented by the uneven ground, she broke into a run.

Rudi followed, whether from concern for her safety or simply to relieve the torrent of emotion still coursing through him, he couldn’t have said. They ran in eerie silence, their footfalls thudding on the close-cropped turf, occasionally slipping in patches of sheep droppings. Despite his best efforts the girl forged ahead, and he didn’t catch up with her for several minutes.

When he did so she was standing by the gate around the small herb garden. Tears were streaming down her face, illuminated by the roaring flames leaping from the thatch of the burning cottage. This was worse than the Altmans’ farmstead had been. At least there the flames had begun to die down when he found it, but here the fire was still fresh, so more of the cosy home he remembered was still discernable. Not only that, the Altmans had simply been people he ran messages to, whereas Greta was someone he’d known and liked. Knew and liked, he corrected himself fiercely. There was no reason to believe she was still in there…

“Mother!” Hanna was screaming, her voice raw. “Mother, where are you?” She seemed to be performing a strange little dance, approaching the blazing cottage step by faltering step until the heat drove her back. Then she tried all over again. Rudi had no idea how she managed it. Even this far away the heat was fierce enough to evaporate the tears on her face, leaving dry, salty tracks. He had to exert all his willpower not to fall back even further. But then he remembered the incident with the cauldron, and suspected she was less sensitive to high temperatures than he was.

Hanna had an expression of grim determination on her face now. She walked forwards, muttering something under her breath. For a moment the flickering yellow flames seemed to surround her too, but that must have been a trick of the perspective as his eyes became dazzled by the blaze. She got closer to the building than she’d managed before, and stopped, apparently willing herself to go on. The fine hairs on her arms began to crisp and wither and her blonde mane shrivelled in the heat.

“Hanna, come back!” Rudi called, alarmed for her safety. Distracted she glanced back at him, then screamed, her face red. Without a thought Rudi dashed forwards, ignoring the pain, which seemed to wrap itself tighter around him with every step closer to the flames. He grabbed her arm.

“You have to get back!” He dragged her away, towards the welcome coolness of the night air. Hanna struggled against his grip.

“Let go, you half-witted ox! I can save her!”

“If she’s inside she’s past help.” Not the most tactful thing he might have said under the circumstances, but he had to get through to her somehow. “And if she isn’t, incinerating yourself isn’t going to make her very happy!”

“Do you think she might be somewhere else?” Hanna asked, hope flaring in her face. Rudi nodded slowly, knowing how she must feel believing that she’d just lost her only parent. The hope might be a false one, but it was better than none.

“The last time I saw her was in Kohlstadt.” Hours ago it was true, but nevertheless… “At the burgomeister’s house.” Hanna nodded, numbly.

“Then we’ll have to find her there,” she said matter-of-factly. “She needs to know what’s happened.” Her face twisted with anger and misery. “Those vile beastmen…”

“It may not have been them,” Rudi said slowly. The light from the flames was bright enough to show tracks, which he could read as easily as the girl could read letters. He squatted to examine them. “Whoever was here wore boots.”

“Gerhard.” She spat the name with loathing. Rudi nodded slowly.

“That would be my guess.” He stood up and was surprised by the red stain of dawn beginning to spread above the horizon in an uncanny echo of the firelight behind him. Hanna’s shoulders drooped.

“But why?” she asked plaintively. “What have we ever done to him?”

“You needn’t have done anything,” Rudi answered, as gently as he could. “A man like that finds his own reasons to hate and fear people. She was a healer. That was probably enough.” He hoped she hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue, his inadvertent use of the past tense. For some reason he remembered the phrase Magnus had used, that the healer had secrets of her own, wondered what they might be. Maybe he’d tell them, when he answered the rest of his questions.

“You’re probably right.” Hanna pulled a pot of ointment out of her bag, and rubbed some on the reddened skin of her face and arms. “You’d better have some of this too.” It felt soothing, cool, and seemed to suck the discomfort out of his tingling face and hands. Despite her more intense exposure to the heat she was still less affected than he was.

“We’d better get going.” Somehow he felt he needed to distract her, to get her away from here as soon as possible. She nodded, and turned her back on the wreckage of her home with the air of someone determined not to be bowed by the weight of misfortune.

“We won’t find her by hanging around here.”

“Exactly.” Rudi fell into step beside her. Just then his boot crunched on something in the grass. He looked down.

It was the small icon of Shallya that he’d noticed on his first visit to the cottage, but something seemed different about it. After a moment’s thought he realised that the frame was missing.

A prickle of apprehension ran up his spine. Now he could picture it in his mind, he realised where he’d seen the sigil Hans Katzenjammer and the beastmen wore before. The frame had been the same shape.

He opened his mouth to ask Hanna about it, but closed it again. She had enough to deal with at the moment, and this was no time to bother her with trivia.

 

Despite his apprehension they were able to enter Kohlstadt without any trouble. The gates were open, a few farmers staggering out with the dawn to wrest as much as they could from their ravaged fields. Most looked drawn and haggard, too tired for conversation, and the few remarks Rudi overheard were about the momentous events of the previous day. Hans Katzenjammer’s metamorphosis, the disappearance of his brother, and the witch hunter’s burning of the family home figured largely in their talk. No one so much as glanced in the direction of the two youngsters as they slipped inside the stockade. Rudi shot a nervous glance at the watch post beside the gate, but it was deserted, and the brazier burned low.

An eerie quiet hung over the streets as they moved towards the burgomeister’s mansion, keeping to the narrowest of alleyways, and starting at every sound. But the voices they heard were all behind shutters, the everyday utterances of rising villagers. The only thing they disturbed along the way was the occasional rat.

“How do we get in?” Hanna asked, once they were outside the familiar kitchen door of the Steiner mansion. By way of reply Rudi shrugged. He knocked on it as loudly as he could. Hanna jumped. “Are you mad?”

“I don’t think so.” For some reason the question intrigued him. “But if I was, do you think I’d know?” Hanna gaped at him, unsure how to respond, but she was saved from doing so by the rattling of bolts.

“Who is it?” The servant who had greeted him on his first visit to the mansion glared resentfully through the opening gap, his livery rumpled. Recognition sparked in his eyes after a moment. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I’ve a message for the burgomeister,” Rudi lied. He was vaguely surprised by his recent aptitude for deceit. The servant yawned widely, and stood aside to admit them.

“He’s in the parlour. You know the way.” He glanced at Hanna. “Who’s this?”

“She’s with me,” Rudi said. The servant looked from one to the other, clearly drawing his own conclusions. He nodded to the girl.

“Wait here.” He slammed the door behind Rudi, cutting off Hanna’s indignant protest, then motioned him along the familiar passage. Rudi fought down a flutter of apprehension. Somehow the idea that Hanna would be with him when he faced Gerhard’s most loyal ally had made the prospect less intimidating. Well, he’d just have to do it as best he could alone. He squared his shoulders and marched into the parlour.

It was empty. He glanced round, feeling deflated. The servant shrugged.

“He’ll be back soon.” He might have said more, but a thunderous knocking on the front door made him turn his head with a sigh of exasperation. “Stay here. And if that’s your girlfriend, Sigmar help the pair of you.”

“She’s not my…” Rudi began, but the man had already gone. Rudi hovered by the parlour door. He eased it open a crack, and put his ear to it. Bolts rattled, and a lock clicked, followed by a creak of hinges.

“Steiner. Where is he?” Rudi shuddered at the familiar voice. Gerhard was back already! They must have wasted more time than they’d realised packing their belongings and contemplating the burning cottage. When the servant replied his voice was far more subdued and deferential than it had been.

“I’ll summon him at once, sir. If you’d care to wait in the parlour…” Rudi’s heart blocked his throat for a moment.

“I would not.” Gerhard raised his voice for the first time Rudi could recall. “Steiner! Get down here!”

“What? Who is that?” After a moment footsteps descended the main staircase, echoing in the hallway. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Later than you think.” Gerhard’s voice resumed its normal volume. “Last night we found evidence of a heretic cult in the forest, preparing for some hideous blasphemy.”

“Dear Sigmar!” The burgomeister sounded as though someone had just told him his waistcoat looked cheap. “They must be arrested, brought to justice…”

“They’re beyond the reach of mortal justice now,” Gerhard said with grim satisfaction. “But there may have been survivors. Anyone connected with those we identified must be brought in for questioning. I have a list.”

“Of course.” Rudi heard a rustling of paper, as the burgomeister took the document. His voice took on a tone of incredulity. “The Walder boy? Von Blackenburg? Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Gerhard assured him. “The boy’s father and Von Blackenburg’s servant were both there. The other names merit some investigation too, but the pair at the top is our most pressing concern. They’ve been involved in this affair from the beginning, and if their loyally is questionable they could have done untold harm.”

“You could say the same about me,” Steiner said, with rather more courage than Rudi would have given him credit for. “Or Greta Reifenstal.”

“I have no evidence against you. For the moment that is sufficient. And the witch is dead.”

“Dead?” Steiner practically gasped the word. “But I thought the accusations against her daughter had been disproved.”

“They had been,” Gerhard conceded. “But when I visited her home last night I found clear evidence of sorcery.” Once again Rudi found the image of the sigil floating into his mind, accompanied by a vague feeling of revulsion. “There were signs, and certain books. If you doubt me, your own militia will bear witness.”

“Of course I don’t doubt you.” Steiner’s voice had the level tone of a man entering a state of shock. “You cut her down yourself?”

“She forced us from the house, and barred the door. We burned it down. She couldn’t have survived.” Gerhard was as matter of fact about it as if he had been commenting on the weather. “Her daughter’s name is also on the list.”

Rudi could wait no longer. He hurried to the window and sprung the latch, thankful that Steiner was vain enough to display his wealth by putting glass in the windows, and that the shutters had already been taken down for the day. He wriggled through the narrow opening, and dropped to the ground outside.

“Rudi!” Hanna beckoned to him from the corner of the house. There was an expression of relief on her face. “What happened?”

“Gerhard’s there.” This was not the time to tell her about Greta, he knew that. “I had to sneak away before he saw me.”

“Something’s going on. Look.” Following her lead he peered cautiously round the edge of the wall. The square was full of militiamen, Littman at their head. They looked tired, but full of grim determination.

“We have to leave. Now.” He took her by the hand, and tried to pull her back down the alley they’d come by.

“Why?” She looked at him challengingly, a trace of her former arrogance returning. “What did you find out?”

“He has a list of people he wants arrested. We’re both on it, and so’s Magnus.”

“What about my mother?” The question took him by surprise, his expression was all the answer she needed. Something seemed to crumple inside her. “Oh,” she said, almost inaudibly.

“We have to warn Magnus,” Rudi insisted. No matter what the danger might be in doing so, he had to see him. The questions he desperately wanted answers to crowded his mind for a moment, buzzing like flies, blotting out everything else.

“Yes. Of course.” Hanna nodded numbly. Her face had turned pure white. She seemed to be responding purely by instinct, but at least that was something. Rudi wondered for a moment how she’d be when the full truth of her mother’s death had sunk in, but he shied away from the thought. He took her by the hand, and she returned the grip, her knuckles white.

“Come on.” Ignoring the pain in his fingers, Rudi got her moving at last. If he could just keep her distracted until they found safety, he felt they’d be all right. To his relief she matched his pace, and they hurried down the street towards the merchant’s house. “This way.”

He ducked into the side passage that led to the kitchen door Kirstin had shown him out by a couple of days ago with a sensation of profound relief. They had only been in the main street for a few score paces, but his shoulder blades had itched the whole time. It would only have taken one of the assembled militiamen to glance in their direction for their lives to be over, but luck or one of the gods had been with them. Once he was sure they had remained unobserved, Rudi pounded on the back door.

“The windows are still shuttered,” Hanna said. It was true. Rudi knocked again. No sound came back to them but echoes. “He isn’t here.”

“He must be!” Rage and frustration seized him. He looked round frantically for something to force the lock with. Maybe his knife…

“Listen!” Hanna grabbed his arm before he could do anything, her eyes panicky. Running footsteps were approaching from down the street, lots of them. Someone began pounding on the front door.

“Von Blackenburg! Open in the name of Sigmar!” Gerhard’s familiar voice carried easily over the tumult even though it was no louder than usual. “Littman, take some men and cover the back.”

“We have to get out of here!” Hanna insisted, her voice rising in pitch. She tugged at his arm again. “Come on!”

For a moment Rudi resisted, the need for answers overriding every other impulse, then his sense of self-preservation kicked in. He turned and pointed out a narrow gap between a pair of adjacent buildings.

“Through here,” he said. Hanna shook her head.

“We’ll get stuck!”

“No we won’t.” He hoped they wouldn’t. But if they tried to run the approaching militiamen would see them for sure. He took a deep breath and squeezed through, the rough plaster and brickwork scraping his exposed flesh and catching at his clothing. For a panic-stricken moment he thought Hanna had been right, that they’d be immobilised, but he breathed in deeply and somehow got through; one arm stretched out before him holding his bundle of possessions, and the other behind him clutching his bow and the quiver of arrows. He breathed deeply again, weak-kneed from relief. “Nothing to it.”

“So you say.” Hanna followed, her slighter frame squeezing through a little more easily. They found themselves in the yard of a tanner’s shop, the smell of uncured hides rising around them in a reek they could cut with a knife. No one came out to challenge them, so Rudi leant as close to the crack as he could, hoping to hear something.

“No one here, sergeant,” someone called. Rudi’s mouth went dry as he realised the narrowness of their escape. Littman had sent two groups of militiamen round the back of Magnus’ house, one from each direction, so if he hadn’t remembered this short cut from his childhood they would have been caught between them.

“Course not.” Though the old soldier was out of sight, Rudi could picture him punctuating his conversation with a gobbet of saliva. Sure enough he continued after a fractional pause. “He’s either dead or long gone.” A loud crash indicated that someone had obtained entry. Hanna tugged at his arm.

“We have to go,” she insisted.

“Yes. I know.” Too numb to refuse, and not knowing what else to do, he started running towards the village gates. Hanna kept pace with him easily, and they passed through the gap in the stockade without being challenged. The rising babble of voices behind them was attracting the interest of most of the citizens of Kohlstadt, so no one had a thought to spare for the youth and girl that scuttled along in the shadows at the edges of the streets.

After they made the open countryside they kept going, angling away from the roads and any possible pursuit, slogging across fields and grazing land until the village was no more than a tiny smudge on the horizon. Eventually their breath gave out and they stopped on the banks of a small stream, gasping. They looked back to see a thin trail of smoke rising behind them. Gerhard was consistent in his habits.

“What do we do now?” Hanna asked, cupping her hands to gulp at the cool, clear water. Rudi tried to reply, but his labouring lungs could do nothing but pant. Even if he could have formed words he was at a loss. The truth was he didn’t have the faintest idea.