Birdie clenched her fists in her lap. Just what she needed. She should have known Kayla would pull a stunt like that.
Sam and Sophia exchanged a puzzled expression, as if trying to decide if they’d heard correctly. The others appeared equally bewildered.
Birdie wasn’t sure what to do. Should she say something? But what could she possibly say?
Louisa chuckled, breaking the awkward silence. “So Kayla’s interesting fact is she’s a storyteller. We must all remember that.”
Kayla sat back in her chair and examined her fingernails with a satisfied smile.
“Okay, very good,” Louisa continued. “So now that we know each other better, it’s time to explore the fortress.” She surveyed the group, stopping at Kayla’s sandaled feet. “Do you have trainers? Or sneakers? In America, you call them sneakers, yes?”
“Me?” Kayla flexed her feet so everyone could admire her strappy shoes. “No. No trainers or sneakers. But I’m good in sandals. Ask Birdie.”
“You are sure?” Louisa didn’t look convinced.
“I have nothing to change into, so yes, I’m sure.”
“You may have trouble on the path with this morning’s rain, but let’s hope not, okay?”
Birdie was first up the stairs and out into the sun, soaking in its warmth after the chill of the damp storeroom. She followed Louisa down a path of crushed sand and through the stone archway that sheltered the ticket booth.
The woman who’d unlocked the storeroom for her earlier that morning sat in the booth on a barstool. Her dark hair was chopped short, with severe bangs that emphasized the slope of a long nose. She narrowed her eyes at each camper as they passed, as if trying to memorize their faces.
Louisa leaned toward Birdie. “Don’t worry about Frau Hamel. She takes her job too seriously sometimes, they tell me.”
“Who tells you?” Birdie dragged her gaze away from the woman.
“The people who hired me as camp counselor. They told me this is the normal way for her.”
“Normal? You mean she studies everyone who walks by?”
Louisa shrugged. “Normal. She watches everyone like a hawk.”
They followed the path until they were out of Frau Hamel’s sight, passing a sprawling gift shop that was closed up tight. They skirted the main gate, where an idling tour bus waited to unload its passengers, and continued onto the paved parking lot, which felt modern and out of place among the stone ruins. A few cars were already there, parked at the very edge of the lot.
The sky was blue and clear, any remnant of the morning rain long since blown away on the breeze. Birdie took a deep breath of fresh summer air, grateful to be above ground.
She was aware of Kayla several steps behind her and made a point of keeping some space between them. How could she trust her after what she’d said during the introductions? She didn’t want the other campers to paint her with the same brush, to think they were old friends when they barely knew each other at all.
Not that Kayla had lied, but no one else needed to know about the aventurine. That interesting fact was best kept hidden.
Louisa led them up a steep grade to the top of the lot while Friedrich brought up the rear, as if they were toddlers in danger of wandering off.
“Will we have time to check out the gift shop?” Sam called to Louisa. He was walking in the middle of the pack with Rich and Ryan.
She’d reached the remains of a low stone wall at the parking lot’s edge and stopped. “Of course. We make time always for shopping. Now, everyone is here, yes?”
“They all made it,” Friedrich announced from the back of the group.
“Okay, good.” She fit her sneaker into a small hole in the crumbled stone and hoisted herself to the top of the wall. It was broad enough that she could stand without fear of falling into the woods below.
She towered there, facing the campers with her arms spread wide and her braid dangling down her back. “Now, please turn around in a circle, slowly, and tell me what you see.”
No one moved.
“Yes, yes, I know this is strange. A very slow circle, please, each of you. It will be fun. I promise.”
Ryan pivoted first. “A parking lot.”
“Yes, of course. What else?”
“Treetops.” Sophia pointed to the sprawling vista behind Louisa’s perch. “And vineyards on the hills beyond them.”
“Yes.” Louisa glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to them. “All that land once belonged to the fortress. Even now, forest paths switchback down this mountain to a stream, and then wind back up to the vineyards. The servants climbed the paths, but they were too steep for horses, so the farmers used the main road.” She pointed to the two-lane road that Birdie’s mom had driven up, just beyond the gate where the tour bus idled. “They cut the road through the fields to bring the harvest to the fortress gates.”
“What else do you see?” Friedrich had snaked through the group and positioned himself in front of Louisa, only standing on the ground.
Birdie turned a half-circle. “Destruction.”
The bombed-out ruins begged to be explored, even though they were nothing like the elegant Burg Eltz she’d toured the day before.
“Yes.” Friedrich bobbed his head approvingly. “From here, you can see the outline of the massive fortification walls that once surrounded the fortress. Some still stand, but Napoleon’s troops destroyed the others in the 1800s.”
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“This part of Germany switched from German to French control and back again many times,” Rich explained to his brother before Friedrich could answer. “They destroyed the castles to show who had more power. But it was senseless.”
“It’s a shame that Burg Rheinfels was destroyed, yes.” Louisa pointed to the heart of the ruin. “What’s left of the original keep – or castle – is under the flags with the dragons on them. A few walls still stand, although you must try to imagine them several stories higher and joined by a gabled roof made of dark slate tiles. There were windows, too, outlined by red sandstone and dark wooden frames.”
Birdie contemplated the piles of rubble, trying to imagine the fortress as it must have been.
“All the stone is now weathered and worn down,” Friedrich added, “but the buildings were once painted bright white, with flags flying from the tallest towers. Everyone respected and feared the powerful family who lived here.”
“As you imagine the white keep standing tall, notice the remnants of several other buildings in the courtyard. There was a busy village within these walls.” Louisa pointed out each crumbled structure as she spoke. “That was a chapel. Next to it was an apothecary. Then came the brewery, and the kitchen. Then the blacksmith and the stables. The armory for weapons was there.” She kept gesturing to sad piles of rubble that encircled the former keep. “On this side, there’s a stack of old cannonballs, the guards’ quarters, and the place where the dungeon once stood.”
“Dungeon?” Ryan grinned. “When do we see that?”
“We will explore the grounds later,” Friedrich said. “But it is important that you first understand what you are seeing.” He gestured to the fortification walls again. “Back then, the fortress was heavily guarded. Soldiers patrolled these walls to be sure no one launched a sneak attack. Tunnels led from building to building. Some tunnels still exist, although most have collapsed with time. Important structures were underground, too, like the dungeon. We will visit each ruined structure later today.”
“What else do you notice?” Louisa swiveled her hand so the group would continue its rotation.
“The river.” Raina’s back was now to Louisa. “It’s way down there, beyond that fortification wall.”
From high on the hill where they stood, the wide expanse of the Rhine River rippled like a ribbon between rocky cliffs and steep vineyards.
“The river was the whole reason Burg Rheinfels existed,” Friedrich said. “It brought ships, and with them, gold and riches. The landowners along the river levied tolls on those ships and goods. It’s why there were so many castles along the Rhine and why Sankt Goar was teeming with action back then. Crews moored their vessels at the docks and went into town to celebrate their safe passage through the Loreley.”
“What’s the Loreley?” Kayla asked.
“Do you see the sharp curve in the river?” Louisa tented her hand over her eyes as she peered upstream. “Many sailors met their deaths on the outcroppings beneath that steep slate rock. They blamed it on a fair maiden, a siren called the Loreley, whose voice drew them toward the rock and, of course, to certain death.”
“She enchanted the men with her flowing hair, and they could not resist her song when she called to them,” Friedrich added.
Kayla loosened the clip that held her hair, allowing it to fan across her shoulders.
“The Loreley is one of many legends about the river,” Louisa said.
“The hillsides, too, would have been busy,” Friedrich continued. “Particularly in autumn when it was time to harvest the grapes to make wine. This area of Germany was famous for its white wine – it still is – although some villages on the other side of the river insisted on making reds. No one trusted the villages that trafficked in red wine, and they struggled to compete. That led to wars, battles, marriages, and surprise attacks.”
“Because the more land you had, the more of the river you controlled,” Rich said, more to himself than to the group, as he studied the view below them. “And the more tolls you could collect from those ships.”
“Exactly. And Burg Rheinfels was by far the largest fortress of them all,” Friedrich said.
They stood at the top of the parking lot a few minutes longer, admiring the landscape as the cool breeze softened the heat of the mid-morning sun.
Far below them, the narrow village of Sankt Goar nestled in the gorge, the window boxes on its half-timbered houses overflowing with flowers. A two-lane road skirted the village and hugged the riverbank, separated from the water by a wide bike lane. On one end of the village, Birdie could just make out the municipal parking lot where her mother had left their rental car overnight, and on the other end, Hotel Flussufer.
Barges, laden with huge containers, and river cruise ships, laden with old people, slid past each other in the calm water.
“Where are they going?” Sam asked.
“The cruise ship? To Amsterdam,” Louisa said. “They follow the Rhine from Switzerland and go all the way to the North Sea.”
As Birdie listened to Louisa and Sam, she felt a prickle at the back of her neck. She didn’t turn right away, hoping the feeling would go away and not wanting to know what might be behind her. Despite the warm sun, she shivered. It definitely felt as if someone were watching them.
She turned around slowly, peering past Louisa, who gave her a funny look, to the forest and the vineyards beyond. She scanned the treetops but saw nothing, not even a bird. Maybe there were hikers back there or workers. The ghosts of her brother and father were certainly not there, hiding beneath the trees, haunting her even here.
She was so focused on the woods that she didn’t notice Kayla step up beside her until it was too late.
“Do you have the aventurine?” she asked, following Birdie’s gaze across the treetops.
“No,” she lied, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “And what was the big idea bringing it up back there? No one else needs to know. No one else should know. They wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
“Where is it?” Kayla seemed unfazed.
“At the hotel.” She turned away from the woods. The sensation of being watched had dropped away, allowing her to focus on shooing Kayla from her side.
“Why didn’t you bring it?”
“Seriously?” She gestured to all the rubble. “Think about it. Would you really want to mess with that thing here?”
Kayla shrugged. “Why not? This camp is lame. Besides, we could see how Fred reacts.”
“No.” Birdie shook her head. “That would be ludicrous.”
“Maybe.” Kayla stepped back toward the others. “But you’re no fun.”
Medieval fortresses had towering castle keeps adorned by flags that presented the colors of the ruling family. Villages thrived inside their thick stone walls, and they made room to protect those who lived nearby during an attack. Their gray ruins are scattered across Europe, haunted by time and battles. —Marty McEntire, Europe for Americans Travel Guide