Chapter Twenty-Three

Any trace of laughter on Wilhelm’s and Mumfred’s faces vanished as the guards’ pleas from behind the churn tower’s closed door grew more desperate.

“It’s coming! I can hear it!” called one voice.

“Open it! Please! Have mercy, my lord! There’s still time! We’ll be quick!”

Wilhelm and Mumfred, daggers drawn, stood behind the phalanx of guards.

“My lord, it would allow for more protection in here,” Mumfred said.

“Why chance it? Opening that door even for a moment would give those things the advantage. Those men are supposedly among the bravest in the castle. Today they can prove it.”

The door shimmied and rattled on its hinges, and the men’s caterwauling devolved into gibbering laments.

The roar silenced all.

Blades cascaded to the ground, clanking and sliding down the stairs.

“So much for proving their bravery,” Wilhelm mumbled, and then called to the guards before him, “Fight to the death, men!”

They twisted their heads, looking cockeyed at Wilhelm.

“I will not abandon you,” he said. “If you fall here—so shall I.”

The ceiling door drew upward. Wilhelm and Mumfred stood directly below and moved aside just as the ladder hit stone.

“Wilhelm, Mumfred, come up now,” Karl called. “You must see what’s become of Beate.”

Wilhelm, knife still in hand, scurried up the ladder without eyeing the guards—many of whom grunted to convey Thought so.

“I’m not much good with a weapon and would get in your way,” Mumfred said while climbing.

Wilhelm waved for Mumfred to hurry and then ripped the ladder into the room and secured the ceiling door.

Wilhelm breathed easier and turned to his brother standing near the cabinets. Beate waited by his side.

The older lord assessed the girl. “So what’s become of her? I don’t see much difference.”

“Drop your dagger,” Karl said. “You too, Mumfred.”

“What’s wrong, my lord?” Mumfred said.

“I’d do as he says, Mummy.” Beate slid away from Karl, and into view came a little old lady holding Karl by his neck scruff, a dagger tip to the base of his skull.

“Do it, Wilhelm,” Karl said.

Wilhelm and Mumfred released their daggers simultaneously.

“Kick them this way, please.” Perchta tilted her head toward the cache of weapons in the corner and the pair obeyed. Beate grabbed Mumfred’s dagger.

“Move away from Mummy, Wilhelm.” Beate ambled toward the steward and placed the blade tip to the warm flesh below Mumfred’s Adam’s apple.

He gulped, the pulse moving the blade.

“Open the door, Mummy. Make a sound and Karl dies.”

The grinning hag pushed the knife into Karl’s neck, drawing both blood and whimpers.

Beate stepped back and Mumfred dutifully lifted the door and lowered the ladder.

“I’d like you to go down first, Mummy.”

The steward steadied himself with one foot on the floor and the other on the top wooden rung, which provided a perfect archway for Beate, who kicked to break stone.

Mumfred shrieked, lost balance and fell through the hole. Wilhelm rushed to the edge. Beate, watching him, cautiously glanced through the opening. Mumfred’s back faced the ceiling—as did his head. His neck had twisted, the skin shaped like intertwined rope. His eyes remained open. Guards circled the body and looked up.

“I’m not going to kick you, Wilhelm,” Beate said. “You’re to climb down and command the guards to disarm and to open the door. Those are her orders.” Beate waved her dagger to Perchta. “Not mine. So I wouldn’t disobey them.”

“Let’s go, Karl. Baby steps.” Perchta pushed the young lord to limp forward. Wilhelm descended and stood at the ladder’s base. Karl stood sandwiched between Beate and Perchta.

“Like we discussed, dear.” The hag removed the blade from Karl’s neck, and Beate’s dagger took its place. Perchta dropped through the hole and seized Wilhelm before she landed. She held her blade across his throat so all the guards could see.

Wilhelm closed his eyes and slowly raised his hands to reassure them.

“Open the door,” he said.

“My lord?” A couple of guards spoke in unison.

Wilhelm hissed through gritted teeth as the hag slowly dragged the blade—not to cut, but to raise every hair on his body.

“Men, lower your weapons and open the door.”

Karl labored down the ladder and was trailed by Beate. She eventually stood behind Karl and tickled the back of his neck with her dagger.

“Open the door and no harm shall come to you,” Perchta said.

Still, the guards hesitated. One ventured, “What about the thing behind the door?”

The door boomed once and rattled.

“Open this door and your fate will be that of the men around me,” came the monster’s voice.

“But you killed them all!” said the guard closest to the iron slats.

“No, he didn’t,” said a terrified guard from behind the door. And after a few moments, “But I fear he could easily change his mind.”

Two of the guards within manned up and dropped their weapons and removed the top slat. Another pair did likewise to the middle section. Soon the door was clear. One of the guards unlocked it and tugged, and the door flew open as an avalanche of frightened guards spilled in and scrambled across the room to make way.

Hooves clopped on stone and the beast emerged, pounding the ruten in its palm. Perchta took over.

“I take it my furry friend is being more benevolent than I care to see,” she said. “Drop your weapons—not that they’ve been doing you much good anyway—and leave the tower and the castle. If I see even one of your faces when I get down, I’ll gut you and make your loved ones watch. And the same goes for anyone who’s currently defending the bottom. They already know I’m serious based on what I did to the man at the door.”

Every guard turned to Krampus, who emphatically nodded yes. One by one the men dropped their weapons and walked single file out of the room and down the staircase. Krampus extended his ruten to stop the line, leaving three guards in the room.

“Take that with you.” The beast pointed to Mumfred.

Unquestioning, the men grabbed arms and legs and made off with the corpse.

“Heinrich, where’s Heinrich?” Beate pecked the blade into Karl’s neck, pinpricking it with blood.

“That one.” He pointed to a door smaller than the main entrance, similarly barred with iron slats, which prevented escape all the same.

“Get your hands dirty for once.” She pushed him hard. Karl glared at her, affronted, and straightened himself with whatever dignity he could muster before hobbling. He labored to dislodge the beams, and once successful, he unlocked the door.

“Step back!” Beate said. And Karl did. “Heinrich, come out! It’s safe!”

The blacksmith warily nudged the door and glanced from behind it. Seeing the weirdest assemblage of characters he’d encountered up to that point in his life, he eased himself out of his small cell. His arms and legs still bound by rope, he hopped across the room to join Beate, but first stopped before Karl and viciously head-butted him to the floor. Once Heinrich was reunited with Beate, she cut the ropes to free him.

Karl mewled while pushing himself up, and fell against a wall for support.

“Poor baby.” Perchta withdrew the blade from Wilhelm’s neck and left him standing alone, powerless.

“How the hell did you get up here?” Wilhelm grew more nervous with each step she took toward Karl.

She pointed her curved blade at Beate while passing her. “The girl secured a rope around the cabinets and tossed it from the tower’s window. Apparently it took her a few tries to clear the bartizan.”

Beate nodded, feeling victorious.

“You were going to climb down?” Wilhelm said. “Nonsense.”

“I’m deathly afraid of heights,” Beate said. “So no, rappelling down a tower was out of the question. But I had a feeling she’d find her way up if she saw the rope. And she arrived just in time to save me from your wretched brother.”

Perchta stood behind Karl. He pressed his cheek against the stone wall and closed his eyes to avoid her. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear.

“The only thing worse than a rapist”—she licked his earlobe—“is a child rapist.”

Karl repeatedly blinked, absorbing the accusation, and glared at her. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“Is that so?” She scratched his cheek with the blade. “Lying won’t help your situation.”

“I’m not!”

She backed away, allowing him to confront her. He looked at her and to the blade and back.

“Yes, I rape women. But I don’t touch children.”

“I know!” she cackled, unable to suppress her laughter. “I was just having some fun with you.”

With that she screeched and pounced on Wilhelm, driving the blade through his chain mail and into his diaphragm. She landed on him and shrieked while crudely dragging the knife toward his waist. Wilhelm’s wordless screams turned to gurgles as she repeatedly grabbed and plopped intestines into a slippery pile next to him.

Content with her work, she stood and began scouring the room. “Curses! I lost my sack in the moat. Maybe I can improvise.” She turned to Karl. “Do you have any straw up here?”

Karl, both hands covering his mouth, his eyes bugging at Wilhelm’s dying body, turned to Perchta and shook his head.

“I thought not.” She tucked her dagger into her belt and spotted a carafe of water about a quarter full on the floor. “My hands are a fright. If you’ll excuse me.”

Realizing she still held a dagger, Beate marched Karl back against the wall, the blade to his throat.

“How many women—girls—have you raped?”

Karl’s eyes focused on the knife stinging his neck. “Many. Too many to count. But only girls of marrying age!”

“Like that makes it acceptable?” Beate spat in his face. “Why? Why do you do it? You see what it causes!”

“Because I can.” His sinister tone chilled Beate, who backed off. “I’m the baron’s son.” He straightened himself. “To reject me is to invite death. And there are so many to choose from in the castle. The knights usually have pretty wives, and that makes for luscious daughters.” He licked his lips. “Some of the knights even know it but say nothing because my father will butcher them if they do anything to me.”

She gasped. “Your father knows about you?”

“Ideology and family always trump conscience. Call it an insurance policy. Sure, my father’s disappointed when I tell him which noble’s daughter I’ve most recently conquered. But he’s got enough money to pay off whoever complains the loudest. Had you not shown up, that lumbering idiot Otto’s daughter would’ve been on my menu. She’s about the right age. Believe me—I wish you’d stayed in that shitty village of yours. Speaking of which, Wilhelm stuck with your ratty peasant children because who’d take their word over his?”

“I can’t be bought,” Beate said.

“I bet your parents can.”

Perchta wiped her hands dry on her dress and joined Beate. “As for you, Karl.” She drew both daggers.

“Good.” It was Heinrich. “Too many innocent people have died today—Gisela, her baby. This worm actually deserves what’s coming to him.”

“He’s right.” Beate blocked the hag’s path with her arm to stay her. “What you did to Gisela was inhuman. Why did you kill my friend? She was innocent!”

“Trust me, she was not.”

“That she suffered the way he did”—Beate eyed Wilhelm—“I cannot imagine she deserved it. But you—” She looked at Karl and then hesitated, stroked away a tear and spoke to Heinrich. “How did you know Gisela was pregnant?”

Heinrich shrugged. “I heard it around the village.”

“No.” Beate slowly circled Heinrich. “No, you didn’t. Gisela said I was the only one who knew. Me and the father.”

“Uh-oh,” Perchta said mischievously.

Krampus lifted Heinrich by his shirt and held him an arm’s length away. “You’ve been naughty.”

Beate approached Krampus. “Sticking something where it doesn’t belong—you weren’t talking to me. Heinrich was right next to me. My God. Gisela was fitting you for our wedding too. And you were away with your father in early December when—” she waited for Krampus to look at her, and when it did—“when you were hurting people.”

The monster flashed its eyebrows.

Heinrich, dangling like a marionette, clutched Krampus’s arm so he wouldn’t fall. “Beate, listen. Gisela came on to me and—”

“Oh, don’t even try that!” she said.

“He’s right.” Krampus shook Heinrich. “But your boyfriend here did nothing to stop her.”

Everything swarmed around Beate, enough for her to massage her temples. To Perchta, she said, “So, you’re not here for Heinrich?”

“Heinrich is Krampus’s concern.” Perchta pointed a dagger at Wilhelm. “I came for that pompous perversion on the floor.”

Beate looked at Wilhelm’s pale corpse and back to Perchta. “You equate a premarital affair with child molestation?”

“Gisela—your dearest friend—knew full well you were to be wed and violated your trust in the worst possible way by becoming his whore.” She disgustedly gestured at Heinrich. “Had he put the moves on Gisela, he’d be the one with a belly full of straw.”

Krampus brought Heinrich close enough to kiss him. “Lucky you.”

Perchta sidled up to Karl, whose bravado vanished.

“I might not have come for Heinrich, but I did indeed come for your brother.”

“And not me,” Karl said.

“I specifically said ‘I came for that pompous perversion on the floor’. I didn’t say I came only for him.” Perchta’s blade slid over the ragged belly wound Beate inflicted on Karl.

He shook uncontrollably. “Please don’t!”

“I was going to carve off your penis first, then your balls, and then gut you. You’d be praying for a needle through the cock by that point.”

Karl blubbered. “I promise I won’t do it anymore! You can come for me if I do! I know you’ll be able to find me! Please! Spare me!”

“Very well, I will.” She stowed her blades and walked to leave the churn tower.

“What?” Karl and Beate said it together.

“I’ll admit it’s tempting to finish you off now. But recent events have convinced me to spare you for a little while.”

Karl looked at Krampus. “Him?”

“No. I came here for Heinrich and Heinrich alone. But I agree with the frau. I have a hunch you won’t rape anyone ever again.”

“It’s time for you leave, Karl.” Perchta gestured to him and waved her hand forward. “After you!”

Karl took two steps toward the doorway. “You’re not going to kill me from behind?”

“I give you my word, for what that’s worth,” she cackled.

“And you only came here for Heinrich?”

“I already said that, Karl,” Krampus said. “How the master missed you is beyond me, but sometimes names slip through the cracks. I would’ve had fun with you.”

Karl then turned to Beate, who still held a knife. She answered before he spoke: “I’ve harmed you enough already, Karl.” She dropped the blade. “Your survival is in your hands.”

The younger lord smirked. “I can pretty much survive anything—if this day is any indication.”

Karl turned to exit and was met by Otto standing in the doorway. At first Karl thought himself rescued and then recalled what he’d said earlier.

He raised his hands for calm. “Otto, how long were you out there?”

“Long enough to say the day’s not over yet, my lord.”

The broadsword-wielding knight, despite being cut, battered and bruised, nimbly moved and punched Karl in the gut, leaving him on the floor, breathless.

“Go, all of you.”

Perchta had already left. Beate tapped Krampus’s leg to get his attention. “Don’t kill him, please.”

“Thank you, Beate! I knew you’d forgive me!” Heinrich looked at Krampus’s scowl, and then to his bride-to-be, who sported a similar visage.

“I asked him not to kill you, Heinrich,” she said. “I didn’t say he couldn’t punish you.”

Krampus chuckled and carried a whimpering Heinrich down the darkened stairwell.

Beate turned to Otto. “Now what do I do?”

The knight kicked Karl’s face, laying him flat, and then pinned him with a heavy boot. “Stay here tonight. Go back to the village in the morning. Others will too. Travel in a group. I will come to check on you, although it may not be for several days. The baron will return, and he won’t like what he finds here. But you’re in no danger from anyone in the castle. I promise you that.”

“Thank you.”

Otto recalled the first time he’d seen Beate that morning, indifferent to the girl’s plight, but no longer. “I know Gisela hurt you, but nothing justifies what happened to her. And Heinrich’s piggish betrayal doesn’t warrant murder either.”

She thought about it. “I don’t think the Krampus will kill him. I hope he doesn’t.”

Otto applied pressure to keep Karl still. “You’re young, Beate. You’ll find a deserving man.” He glared at the young lord, who appeared on the verge of hyperventilating. “So will my daughter.” Then to Beate, “Take time to grieve, wait for things to return to normal. A good life is still possible, despite all of this.”

She laughed to herself, an inexplicable cackle. “Normal? I relied on a lunatic harpy—my best friend’s murderer—to save my life tonight. I gave a giant monster permission to beat up the man I had planned on marrying next week. I view everything that Heinrich, Gisela, Wilhelm and Karl did as immoral. But to those monsters—the Krampus and Perchta—all of that twisted behavior is normal. It’s why they exist. I woke up this morning happy, blissfully unaware that everything around me was fraudulent. My normal life was a perception void of skepticism. Surviving Twelfth Night taught me I can’t let that happen again, if I’m ever to trust anyone.” She smiled at the knight. “Thank you for your kindness. I don’t mean to be dismissive.”

“I didn’t take it that way. You should be on your way, though. Take care of yourself. That, I know you can do.”

“I appreciate that.”

She took her first step down the stairwell.

“Beate, wait.” Otto said. “You can do one more thing.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“You can say goodbye to Karl.”