Book of the Night, Page 3

  Lukas gave his sister a parting kiss on her tear-streaked cheek. “I’ll come back, Elsa,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”

  When he looked down at the courtyard, he saw that his mother had torn herself away from her guards and was running toward the keep.

  “Run, children, run!” she shouted. “You must never—” But then the two guards caught up with her and threw her down on the ground.

  “I’ll never abandon you, Elsa,” he whispered one last time. “I swear, by my life.” Then he jumped down onto the roof of the shed.

  He slipped on one of the loose shingles and started tumbling down the sloping roof, but before he reached the edge, he caught himself and got to his feet again. Gasping, he ran across the roof while arrows whizzed past. Somewhere behind him, he could hear his sister’s screams. He ran along the shed toward the castle wall. He knew there was an old, gnarled oak by the wall close enough for him to grab hold and jump down. For that reason, his father had wanted it taken down. Now Lukas thanked God and all the saints that he hadn’t done it.

  Lukas reached the spot, slid out as far as he dared, and grabbed on to a few thin twigs. He fell almost ten feet through the leaves until he finally got hold of a larger branch.

  “Lukas, help me!” Elsa screamed from somewhere behind the wall. “Don’t leave me!” But it already sounded far off.

  Lukas climbed down to the ground before he noticed there was one Spanish guard standing in front of the castle gate. The man tried to block his way as more bolts whizzed by him like angry hornets. Now, with a grin, the soldier pulled out his sword.

  “This is where your trip ends, you little louse,” the man growled.

  Lukas remembered what his father had told him just the day before in their practice duel.

  In a battle, nothing is ever fair . . . It’s only about who wins.

  Probably, his father had been thinking about situations just like this. Lukas started to dodge left, which led his opponent to lunge in that direction, and at the same moment, Lukas kicked him with full force right between the legs.

  “¡Maleficio!” the soldier cried. He dropped the sword and fell to his knees, groaning. As he fell, he tried to reach out and grab Lukas, who was already running by him now and gave the man a punch in the neck.

  As fast as he could, Lukas ran toward the bushes bordering the forest. One last bolt quivered as it slammed into a tree trunk, then Lukas disappeared among the beeches and oaks in the forest.

  “You’ll pay for this!” the man shouted after him. “I’ll slit you open like a piece of meat.”

  It was a long time before Lukas stopped running. He finally collapsed, gasping, in a muddy streambed. Shaking and sobbing, he wished he were dead. From one minute to the next, everything had changed.

  It seemed like the Lohenfels family no longer existed.

  III

  For the next few hours, Lukas was in constant fear of being discovered. This, and the horror of losing his family, made it almost impossible for him to think clearly. After wandering about aimlessly at first, he began covering his tracks with branches as his father had once taught him on their excursions together. Again and again, his body shook with fits of sobbing. Almost blinded by his tears, Lukas stomped through muddy streambeds to throw any hunting dogs off his trail and took remote deer paths known only to him, all the while listening for pursuers nearby. But except for the hammering of a woodpecker or the angry calls of a jay, all was silent.

  Around noon, his tears finally dried up. His grief gave way to an emptiness that at least made it possible for him to consider where to go next.

  Lukas knew of a little cave at the foot of a cliff that he’d occasionally used as a shelter and decided to hide out there until he could figure out what to do. After sunset, it turned cool, and he wrapped himself in an old woolen blanket he’d put in the cave long ago in case of an emergency, along with a dry loaf of bread and a few prunes. He didn’t dare light a fire. The danger that the Spanish mercenaries would see it was too great.

  Now it turned dark and cold, and somewhere nearby, a large animal broke through the underbrush, presumably a wild boar or a deer, but perhaps a bear.

  Lukas trembled, closed his eyes, and tried for a few minutes to forget his fear—in vain. He felt as lonely as if he were the last man on earth. His father was dead, his mother and sister imprisoned, and he himself was a nameless refugee without a home or a future. One thing was clear to him: never again could he return to Lohenfels Castle. The grand inquisitor had pronounced his death sentence. But why had the mercenaries spared Elsa? This one tantalizing question helped him put aside his dark thoughts, at least for a while.

  Mother had spoken the name of the inquisitor, a name that Lukas would never forget—Waldemar von Schönborn, the same man who had once tried to accuse his mother of witchcraft. Was there perhaps some secret shared by Schönborn and his parents?

  Thoughts of his family once again brought tears to his eyes. He should have stayed down in the dungeon with Elsa. Then maybe his pursuers wouldn’t have found him! And what was even worse: Lukas now understood why his mother let herself be led off with so little resistance. She had wanted to spare her children by giving Schönborn no reason to search the castle.

  Suddenly, Lukas heard a loud growl, and it took a moment before he realized it wasn’t a bear, but his own stomach. He hadn’t had a thing to eat all day. He dug up the hard loaf of bread and the prunes, and began eating his meager repast.

  As he chewed on his dry provisions, his courage slowly started to return. His father had taught him never to give up. He was the son of a knight! He would continue fighting, if necessary, to the bitter end. And perhaps there was still hope. He absolutely had to find out what happened to his mother and sister, and then he could possibly help them. But to do that, he’d have to wait until the next morning.

  After a restless, almost sleepless night, Lukas set out before dawn on his way back to the castle. With a pounding heart, he approached the place that until just recently had been his home. He avoided the open roads, sneaking through the shadowy forest on deer paths until he was very close to the castle. Finally, he made a sharp turn down a steep path to the river.

  A small pebble beach not visible from the castle was located there with a deep pool that his father’s servants sometimes used to wash clothes. Lukas lay down behind some large rocks and waited, and he was in luck. Before even a half hour had passed, a maid with a basket of laundry in her hands came down the path. Lukas recognized her, and his spirits brightened. It was dear old Agnes, who had worked for the Lohenfels family for many years and long ago had even been his nurse.

  As soon as Agnes arrived, Lukas appeared from his hiding place like a ghost. With a muffled cry, Agnes dropped the basket.

  “God be praised, my young lord, you are alive!” she gasped. “You must get away as fast as possible. They’re still looking for you everywhere, and if they find you—”

  “I must know what happened to Mother and Elsa,” he quickly interrupted. “What has happened since yesterday?”

  “After the death of your father, a few of those Spanish mercenaries took over the castle,” she replied, looking around cautiously. “Your mother and Elsa were taken away by the high cleric yesterday morning, to Heidelberg, it is said. There your mother will be put on trial for witchcraft. Oh God, oh God.” She rubbed her tear-stained eyes. “It is all so horrible! It is said this Waldemar von Schönborn is a special envoy of the pope and has the power to punish anyone in the Palatinate for witchcraft. Anyone who falls into his clutches is lost!”

  Lukas clenched his teeth and tried to think calmly despite his fears. No doubt Schönborn had taken his mother and sister away on horseback. It was more than thirty miles to Heidelberg, so if he wanted to do something for his mother, he’d have to act quickly. His father’s horses, however, belonged to the Spaniards now and were in the castle stables, out of his reach. Like it or not, he’d have to go on foot.

 
; “There is something else you should know, young master,” Agnes said, lowering her voice again. “These Spaniards have searched the castle, from the cellar right up to the attic. They have rummaged through every single chest—not even the chapel was off-limits for them, even though they are, like us, God-fearing Catholics! Do you have any idea what they might have been looking for?”

  Lukas shook his head silently. Had the mercenaries really not come for his mother at all, but were looking for something else? Was her arrest just a pretext?

  “Farewell, Agnes,” he said softly at last; then he took the hand of the maid who used to sing lullabies for him when he couldn’t sleep. The old woman looked with concern at his torn and dirty clothes.

  “You can’t go looking like this,” she muttered. “These accursed Spaniards will recognize you. Here, take these.” She reached into her basket and pulled out a few articles of threadbare clothing and a battered felt cap that was much too large for him. “They belong to my grandson and should fit you. Perhaps they are not exactly the perfect things for a young nobleman, but with these at least no one will recognize you.” She took Lukas in a warm embrace and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “And now, go with God, young sire. I will tell no one about our meeting.”

  Lukas turned away and headed up the path from the river. When he turned around, he saw the old maid waving to him one last time. In the morning light, he could see the walls and battlements of Lohenfels Castle, his old home, which he would probably never see again.

  He tried to imagine what his father, looking down from heaven, would expect him to do. Lukas was now the man in the family, and it was up to him to save his mother and his sister.

  He would not disappoint his father.

  After one final glance, he turned and followed a path that would soon take him to the broad, dusty main road. If he followed this road long enough, he knew, it would eventually lead him to Heidelberg. He’d been there before with his parents, though on horseback then, with a half-dozen servants. They had always stopped in an elegant tavern, and a few times he, Elsa, and their mother had even visited Heidelberg Castle with its famous garden. But those times were past.

  As Lukas plodded along the heavily rutted road on the bank of the Neckar, he saw more and more carts, wagons, other hikers, and lone riders on horseback heading toward the city. Twice, groups of soldiers marched past to the beat of drums and the sound of flutes, but fortunately, there were no Spanish mercenaries among them. None of the young lads wearing their oversized felt hats took note of him.

  It was now after noon, and the hot sun was burning down. Sweat dripped from his forehead, as he had stopped only once, around midday, to rest and eat the remainder of his bread and dried fruit. Toward evening it became clear he would never reach Heidelberg on foot in one day, and as twilight fell, the road became noticeably lonelier. At sundown Lukas started looking around for an abandoned barn for the night, but suddenly, he heard the hoofbeats and whinnying of horses coming from behind. Horror stories of murders and highwaymen went through his mind. At nightfall, surely all sorts of dubious characters were prowling around.

  Instinctively, he threw himself down in the muddy ditch alongside the road, and a few moments later, a single rider on horseback appeared. Lukas could only see an outline in the darkness, but as the horseman drew closer, he saw his breastplate and the familiar shape of his helmet and knew at once the rider was a Spanish mercenary. He was coming from the east, where Lohenfels Castle was located.

  Lukas crouched down in the mud, held his breath, and could only breathe easier after the sound of the hoofbeats had faded and finally disappeared. Had the man been looking for him? Or was he on some other mission? Perhaps the Spanish mercenaries found what they had been so eagerly seeking at the castle.

  Trembling and with a pounding heart, Lukas slipped into a nearby wooded area, where he spent another restless, hungry night.

  Around noon the next day, he finally reached Heidelberg. A wide wooden bridge crossed the Neckar at this point, and the towers of the city were clearly visible. The castle was nestled into the side of a hill and could be seen for many miles around. Behind it lay the gloomy Odenwald Mountains with their impenetrable wilderness.

  Carts were backed up in front of the gate at the end of the bridge, with towers on either side. On this day, farmers were bringing their produce to market, but Lukas saw many other people—traveling workmen, grim-looking butchers’ journeymen, giggling girls, and simple day laborers in tattered clothing. A few well-dressed merchants were whispering about the Swedish king Gustav Adolf, who had allied himself with some Protestant princes and was continuing his march southward.

  Lukas took his place in the long line in front of the gate and waited to be admitted. Two bored watchmen waved people through one by one after asking what their business was in town. Despite his exhaustion, Lukas’s heart began to pound with anticipation. What should he tell the watchman? Were there men here looking for him?

  “You look rather hungry, lad,” an old, almost toothless farm woman said to him all of a sudden. She was standing directly behind him and pushing a small handcart containing a few wheels of yellow cheese, some tantalizingly aromatic sausages, a basket of apples, and a fresh loaf of bread.

  Lukas had noticed the little cart some time ago and had been considering stealing a sausage . . . just a little one to satisfy the worst of his hunger. His mouth watered at the sight of all these delicacies. The farm woman seemed to be reading his thoughts and handed him an apple.

  “Here, please take this,” she said with a smile. “You’re a war orphan, aren’t you? What happened to your parents?”

  Lukas thanked her and accepted the apple. “My father . . . is dead. My mother and sister were taken away by mercenaries,” he answered between bites, without saying exactly what had happened to them.

  The woman looked at him sympathetically and handed him another apple. Lukas had already finished the first, including the core.

  “Yes, many children face the same fate nowadays,” she said. “It seems like this war is never going to stop, as if some dark power is at work. Well, at least we’ve caught that witch from the Odenwald. It is said she eats young boys alive—handsome lads just like yourself.”

  Lukas nearly choked on his apple. “What kind of witch is she?” he struggled to say.

  “Haven’t you heard?” The farm woman lowered her voice. With her crooked nose and only two remaining teeth, she suddenly looked almost like an evil witch herself. “The Countess von Lohenfels is a witch! The papal inquisitor in person has been questioning her since yesterday here in Heidelberg. It is said she already confessed to everything, even the dreadful hailstorm last year. Well, tomorrow she will burn at the stake in the market square!” She pointed at the long line of people waiting behind them. “That’s the reason so many people are coming to Heidelberg. They all want to see her burn. Who knows, once she has been sent back to hell, perhaps everything will be better again. The crops will be good and the devil will come and take the Swedes.”

  Lukas became as pale as a sheet. “She will be burned tomorrow?” he whispered.

  The woman nodded. “Yes, the witch no doubt wanted to spare herself all the torturing. They say the grand inquisitor was bent on squeezing more information out of her—who the other witches were who danced around with her at night when the moon was full, what promises the devil made . . .”

  “Was her daughter also charged?” Lukas gasped.

  “Daughter? Which daughter? No, not that I know of.” The old woman looked at him suspiciously. “Do you know this witch, perhaps?”

  Lukas quickly shook his head. “Oh no, I’d just heard something about it.”

  In the meantime they’d reached the gate at the end of the bridge, and when the watchman saw the farm woman with Lukas, he waved them both through without any questions. Evidently, he took Lukas to be her grandson.

  In the narrow lane just beyond the gate, two carts had collided and were blocking the way. The
coachmen were cursing loudly, and neither wanted to back up. In the general confusion, Lukas grabbed two of the tempting sausages from the farm woman’s cart along with a large piece of cheese and ran off.

  “Hey, stop!” the old woman cried. “That’s what you get when you try to help this riffraff. Stop that thief—get him! He knows the witch!”

  But Lukas had already scurried off into a side street. The guilt he felt for his theft quickly dissipated. The stupid hag had called his mother a witch, so it served her right to be robbed.

  While he was still running, Lukas finished off the sausage and the cheese and began to think it all through. At least it seemed that Elsa hadn’t been suspected of witchcraft, or in any case, the farm woman had known nothing about her. Feverishly, he tried to think how he could help his mother. First, he’d have to find the location of the dungeon where she was confined. He began wandering through the alleys, trying to get his bearings from the larger buildings.

  Heidelberg’s most magnificent structure was the castle, which rose above the city, visible from far off, and was bordered by the huge castle gardens. His mother once told him this garden was famous in the entire Reich and was considered the eighth wonder of the world. Now, in the distance, it looked abandoned; some of the walls had collapsed, and the fountains and squares were deserted. The war had left its traces even in this paradise.

  It took a while before Lukas finally found the city dungeon. A grumpy butcher selling his bloody wares at a stand showed him the way to one of the defensive towers in the southern part of the city. The dungeon was a huge multistoried building with barred windows guarded by a half-dozen stony-faced soldiers holding halberds. On seeing them, Lukas’s courage faded. He’d never be able to get past the guards. For better or worse, he’d have to wait until his mother was brought to the market square the next day. Then he’d have to see what he could do to save her.