Chapter Nine

“What I find most amusing about the castle are the toilets,” Mumfred said to Beate and Heinrich, both of whom sat at one of the many long wooden trestle tables in the great hall, feasting on roast duck.

The young lovebirds glanced at each other, not sure why the steward would direct the dinner conversation in this way.

“I say that because I’m not sure how you peasants manage to live near your own waste, but the baron’s engineers devised it so that all of the castle’s twenty toilets flow directly into the moat. And the holes are cut small enough—and the toilets situated high enough off the ground—so that invaders cannot crawl their way inside.” He smiled, expecting the filthy images they would surely conjure to sap their appetites.

Beate gulped her duck. “And all this while I thought that smell came from some of the people who escorted us into the castle.”

“Ha!” Lord Karl walked behind Mumfred and clapped him on the back hard enough that the steward wobbled forward and made the table’s candle flames dance. “Good one, maiden. This place could use a little levity, given all that has transpired.” Karl turned to the steward. “Mummy, surely your position requires you to be mindful of other castle matters and not to follow around these good people of the village to make sure they don’t pocket the silverware.”

Mumfred scowled at Beate, fuming that Karl’s intervention prevented him from reaming out the snippy peasant. “My lord, when you and your brother are ready to be fitted, please summon me and I shall arrange to have these two escorted to your—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Karl sat across from Beate and Heinrich with a plate of duck and vegetables and waved off Mumfred. “I’ll take care of things myself. Have some faith that everyone who enters the castle isn’t the scoundrel you suspect them to be.”

Mumfred huffed away. Beate paid him no mind and marveled that a good chunk of the village—including its buildings—could stand inside the hall. She guessed it to measure one hundred and fifty feet long and seventy feet wide, with the hammer-beam ceiling at least that tall.

“Normally I’d be sitting on the dais.” Karl glanced at a raised platform supporting a table at the far end of the hall. “But the baron is absent, as are other nobles. I don’t view it as slumming to be seen eating with peasants. My brother is a different story.” Karl waited for Heinrich and Beate to say something—then realized why they hadn’t. “You’ve never actually been inside the castle before, have you?”

“No, my lord,” Beate said while looking at one of the many tapestries depicting knights atop horses in the midst of battle that lined the hall’s walls. Elsewhere were shields adorned with the baron’s coat of arms. Five fireplaces, some so large that people could walk into them, heated the room. A row of stained-glass windows stretched across the top of a long wall, allowing for sunshine to occasionally light the dais.

“Castle living isn’t all that it’s made out to be, I can assure you,” Karl said in between mouthfuls of carrots. “It’s cold, damp and dark most of the time. Using torches to walk around at night does nothing but clog the hallways with smoke.”

“But it’s safe here, my lord,” Beate said. “After seeing what happened to Gisela—my friend—that could not happen within these walls.”

“The castle is its own little city, Beate—if I may be so bold.” Karl looked to Heinrich.

“It’s her name, my lord.”

“As I was saying, the castle’s work staff, when fully thrumming, exceeds two hundred, at the least. When the baron entertains, you’ll see dozens of cooks in the kitchen. You’ll see bottlers and butlers. And that’s just for providing food. The castle has its own carpenters, its own chaplain. Armorers—the blacksmith, you should know!” Karl motioned to Heinrich.

“Of course.”

“My point is we try to find the most honest people we can to work here. Many live in the village, many in the castle. But they’re not all saints. Jealousy, greed, envy—they don’t exclusively exist outside of the castle, waiting to breach the walls to corrupt its denizens. Immorality sleeps wherever man lays a pillow. I’m not trying to say that living in a castle is no better than in a hut. Clearly that’s bunk. Sometimes castles protect bad people from evil ones. But you still wouldn’t want anything to do with either of them.”

Beate gulped water from a goblet, finishing. “My lord, respectfully, I’m not calling your brother evil or bad.”

“He’s bad,” Karl interjected.

“Very well.” She spoke cautiously. “That was the feeling I got when he viewed Gisela as an unpleasant mess rather than a murdered woman. What I’m saying is your father is a fair man to the peasants. What happens in the event that your brother succeeds him?”

“My father is aware of my brother’s unkindness and what that might mean for the villagers and surrounding lords. The baron doesn’t seek to expand his reach. He’s content with what he has, and that has been instilled in us. And just in case the baron’s not here, he’s made it explicitly clear that Mumfred calls the shots—not Wilhelm.”

Heinrich devoured his duck to bones, tired of the current conversation. “Your wedding, my lord. I promise you Beate will tailor you a fine outfit.”

“I don’t doubt that, but if I may be so bold as to pull rank, my impending nuptials are not something I care to discuss. Let us just say I vehemently disagree with arranged marriages.”

Beate finished her plate and pushed it toward the middle of the table. “Your brother is married, correct, my lord? How does he view it?”

Karl rolled his eyes. “My brother and his wife are a perfect fit. They care not a wit about each other and neither gets upset about it. Each goes behind the other’s back at will. They dress nicely and show up at galas to keep up appearances, but beyond that, it’s a sham—what I fully expect my marriage to be. You two are lucky.”

Beate reached under the table and squeezed Heinrich’s hand.

“Now then, I see you are finished,” Karl said. “And I do not presume to rush your beau. So, please, Heinrich, stay here and eat while Beate fits me. I promise not to keep her long, and we will arrange to have you both sheltered here this evening.” He turned to Beate. “Your friend, Gisela, she made good headway on my brother’s outfit, so how about you get the unpleasant part out of the way and do what needs to be done to him, and then me? Is that acceptable?”

“It is. Thank you, my lord.”

“And if he displays his obnoxious side to the point of you wanting to strike him—and that likely will happen—I’d advise you to not strike him, but simply leave the room. My chamber is across the hall from his, and you may retreat there if you feel threatened. And I mean that.”

“Thank you, my lord.” This time it was Heinrich.

“Follow me, Beate.” He smiled and began walking to exit the hall when Otto barreled in, panting.

“My lord, a devil prevented a witch from killing me.”