Wolfbreed (15 page)

n the morning, after Ulfie and Papa had gone out to work in the field, Lilly began waking up. Mama went to fetch a bowl to feed her and Hilde grabbed her sleeve.

“Mama?”

Mamma looked down at her. “Yes?”

“Can I feed Lilly?”

“Lilly?”

Hilde suddenly felt a little nervous. Lilly had been so scared last night that Hilde might tell someone something. But she had been so feverish that Hilde hadn’t been sure whom, or what. Still, Lilly had trusted her.

But Hilde certainly could tell Mama, right?

“Uh, I spoke to her last night.” Hilde glanced over at Lilly, and Lilly looked back at her, a little groggy.

“She spoke?”

“Yes. She didn’t make much sense, though. But she said her name was Lilly and that she was my big sister.”

Mama smiled and turned away for a moment, covering her mouth.

Is Mama laughing?

She turned around, still smiling, and said, “Of course you can feed … Lilly?”

“That’s her name.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Mama said. She bent over and kissed Hilde on the forehead and whispered, “You have such sweet dreams.”

Mama handed her a bowl of barley porridge and went to do other chores without asking Hilde any more about her conversation with Lilly. Hilde looked at Lilly and frowned. “I don’t think she believes me.”

ldolf worked in the front field, by the tree line. They had the third frost-free morning in a row now, and it was time to start the first tilling. His father had already begun, taking a loaf of bread baked with last year’s grain and plowing it into the field. Since they were Christian, it was less an offering than a gesture of respect for the old god Patrimpas.

His father had already begun at the rear of the farm, working back and forth behind their horse, guiding the wooden plow, churning up the soft black earth. Up here, by the road, the earth was paler, the sign of too much clay. It always seemed to Uldolf that this sad patch of ground experienced different seasons than the rest of the farm—as if on this small acre, winter lasted longer, and days were shorter.

It certainly had the most problems.

On the second frost-free morning, one of the massive oak trees that bordered their land had toppled over. There was no storm to account for it, and it wasn’t apparent what had happened until Uldolf and his father had walked out to look at the damage.

One of the small creeks around their farm had been fat with snowmelt and had been washing into some animal’s winter burrow under the tree’s roots, undermining the land between the tree and the wall bordering their field. It had probably been going on all winter, accelerating now with the combination of snowmelt off of the high ground and the softening earth.

The tree had crashed through its lesser brethren, knocking them aside, covering the cleared area between the field’s wall and the woods with the splintered remnants of four or five fallen companions. Only the oak itself reached past the wall, its crown reaching ten paces into the field beyond. The wall underneath had been broken apart, its large stones scattered beneath a trunk that, on the ground, was better than waist high on him.

Naked branches clawed the sky two and three times Uldolf’s
height. Massive limbs, as thick as his waist, stabbed into the ground.

Even if they hadn’t lost the oxen this winter, it was still more than any team of animals would be able to clear. And since his father had to begin planting—with some urgency now that there was an additional mouth to feed—it fell to Uldolf to chop the tree into manageable pieces.

This was his second day at it, and it was still hard for him to tell if he had made any progress. He had to scramble into the branches with his axe hanging off a leather strap around his chest, chopping the branches free while precariously holding onto the main trunk with his thighs. By midmorning, his legs ached as if he’d been riding at a gallop, and his arm felt like lead.

He watched his latest small victory, an upward reaching limb the thickness of his thigh, crack under its own weight and slowly topple to the ground beneath him. He set down his axe and wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the palm of his hand, the only part of his arm not coated with wood chips. As he blinked his eyes clear, he saw the knight.

Because he was up in the tree, he could see the knight and his company approaching while they were still several minutes’ walk down the road. Over his armor, the knight’s plain white surcoat glared in the sunlight, the black cross upon it stark and unmistakable. He rode in the lead, followed by a half dozen other men, all on horseback.

It was not a common sight. The road here was not a major route. It didn’t lead to any other towns or villages. It was just a rutted dirt track that led from Johannisburg to a number of more far-flung farms, then returned to Johannisburg. A good day’s leisurely ride would return you to where you started.

These men were riding from the short route to Johannisburg, and they rode slowly, and all eyed the woods, as if looking for something.

Uldolf lowered his arm when he realized what they might be searching for. His father’s words echoed in his ears.

If someone was going to just abandon a woman to die there, in the shadow of Johannisburg Keep, who is the most likely culprit?

Uldolf untangled himself from the branches of the fallen oak and slid to the ground. He had the unfortunate sensation of great urgency combined with the panicked realization that he didn’t know what to do. Their stranger was in bed, recovering from the fever brought on by her wounds. There was no way to move her or any place to hide her. And, if he ran there, he would only draw attention to the cottage and his own unease.

He didn’t have much time to consider what to do, because the knight had already come within sight of the farm. His party came up even with the wall, and for a moment Uldolf had a brief hope that they might just keep going.

Then the knight raised his arm as he brought his mount to a stop, and yelled, “Hold!”

Uldolf turned and saw his father stop tilling and look around.

Someone said, “A word, my son?”

Uldolf turned around to face the knight, who was leaning down in his saddle to talk to Uldolf. “Who works this land?”

“Gedim, sir.” Uldolf pointed across the field. “My father,” he added. He made sure his head was lowered, both to show proper respect, as well as to hide his unease.

“Fair land, here,” the knight said. “You are freemen? Christian?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has your farm been troubled lately, lad?”

“Troubled?”

“By strange beasts? Men or animals killed or injured?”

Uldolf furrowed his brow. “No, nothing like that. We lost some animals during winter.”

“I am sorry for your losses.” The knight waved one of the other
men forward to hold his bridle as he dismounted. Uldolf heard the man address the knight in German, but all he understood was the knight’s name, Gregor.

Once on the ground, Gregor turned to face Uldolf. “I also need to ask you, have you seen any strangers in the past week, possibly injured?”

Uldolf’s stomach burned and his heart raced, because he felt certain that any lie would be visible on his face. Instead he asked, “Who are you looking for? What do they look like?”

“Then you have seen someone?”

“Only travelers down this road.” Uldolf hoped that the flush on his face and the catch in his breath sounded more like exertion than falsehood.

If the knight suspected him, he hid it. “A woman, about your age, with red hair and green eyes, wounded in the head and in the shoulder. She is a witch and a murderess.”

“I see,” Uldolf said.

“Now, we need to look in your house and the barn there. Just to see if she’s hiding anywhere.”

Uldolf looked at the knight and the still-mounted soldiers, and realized that there was absolutely nothing he could do at this point.

“Yes, sir,” he told the knight, in as even a tone as he could manage. “Of course.”

Uldolf walked along one side of the wall while the knight followed on the other. He saw his father walking across the field toward them, but he wasn’t going to reach them before they got to the cottage, and he must have had Uldolf’s realization that if he ran, he would draw undue attention to the situation.

We should have come up with some common story. Something in case people asked questions. The girl isn’t going to be in bed forever. People are going to see her …

They reached the gate and Uldolf opened it. The knight, Gregor,
stepped through while the others rode up and stopped on the road next to the gate.

Uldolf’s mind raced with a hundred scenarios, none of which had a remote shred of plausibility.

Uldolf had the knight halfway to the door of the cottage, and his father was just reaching the wall that bordered the front field and the area around the cottage, when Uldolf’s mother burst through the front door, hair tied severely up behind her head, her expression pure venom.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“My lady, we are looking—” the knight began.

She didn’t let him finish. She stormed up to Uldolf and poked him in the chest with her finger. “I’ve told you that your sister needs rest. Hilde is very sick, and we can’t have you bringing—”

“Pardon me,” the knight said.

She turned on the man with a glare that Uldolf thought would make anyone wither. Gregor took a step back, but apparently knights of the Teutonic Order were trained to withstand a mother’s wrath. It spoke well for the Order’s discipline, since Uldolf would himself prefer to face all the knight’s company in combat before he’d willingly face Burthe’s anger.

“We are looking for a fugitive, a murderess.”

Burthe folded her arms and tried to stare the man down. It didn’t work.

“My lady,” the knight said, “this woman is evil, a threat to your family and your immortal soul.”

Uldolf’s mother sighed and stepped aside.

“Thank you,” the knight said, walking to the door of the cottage.

“But don’t you
dare
wake Hilde.” When she turned after him, Uldolf saw the back of her head, where her hair was braided and wrapped in a tight bun. Only there was something oddly ragged about it now.

“I only need to look inside.”

“Quietly,” Burthe insisted.

Uldolf swallowed. His heart raced as he followed Gregor and Burthe into the cottage. He had no idea how his mother could have hidden their guest.

He stepped inside, and saw that she hadn’t.

Hilde wasn’t asleep. She was up and wiping a cloth across the face of their unconscious guest. She turned as the knight entered and said, “Shh.”

A damp towel covered their guest’s brow, completely obscuring the bandages on her head. Uldolf didn’t understand how, at first, but the hair curling from under the towel was blond, not red.

Then he realized that the hair was exactly the same shade as his mother’s.

Gregor turned to Burthe after looking around the cottage’s single large room and said quietly, “Thank you. I will say prayers for your daughter’s recovery.”

hat do we do with her?” Gedim asked.