Chapter Seven

“And you’re sure he wasn’t missing anything?” Mumfred examined Hans’s body, which Otto had placed on the ground near the closed portcullis—and off to its side stood Heinrich, holding Beate against his body to warm her as the sun began to set.

“His crossbow, sword, he even had some coins in his saddlebag—Victor said it was all there when we found him,” Otto said. Lords Wilhelm and Karl added what they could about the attack on the hunting party.

“We should fetch the bodies,” Mumfred said. “If the villagers see dead knights strewn about the road, they might think the baron and his kin weak. Rumors could spread to other towns, and to our enemies. Uprisings have occurred over less.”

Beate, still surrounded by several Vettelberg workers, said nothing. She stared, expressionless, at the vertical gash made down Hans’s belly.

“That crone cut straight through Victor’s chain mail in one clean swipe,” Otto continued, trying not to let on that he wanted no part in retrieving bodies. “I’m not sure I could pull off something like that. This hunchbacked woman, the way she moved. The feeble only move that fast when they drop dead. They don’t hop on horses and then disembowel them. And I still don’t know what wielded that chain. It couldn’t have been the woman. I’m guessing a marauder dressed in multiple furs, wearing war paint. But I’m not even convinced of that.”

Mumfred, taller than everyone except Otto, addressed the young lords. “I believe the baron would impale me if I allowed you two to set foot from this castle until we have a better handle on things. So you’re staying here. And the baron must be told.”

Mumfred stood on his tiptoes to scan the crowd of thirty people that had formed a semicircle around Hans and the survivors. “Where’s the messenger? James, are you there?”

“I am.” A lean, fit man in his twenties, James wormed his way through the people to Mumfred, who put his hand on James’s shoulder.

“Go to the stables, get the fastest horse you can find.” Mumfred glanced at Hans’s death wound and then back to James. “Get a weapon. A dagger, something light and easy to wield. I need you to fly posthaste to inform the baron of this. Write down the names of the knights and whatever other details Otto and the lords feel sufficient and then set off. You should be able to reach the mountain’s base before it gets too dark, and then it’s not far to the port on the Rhine. Take the river until you reach Mannheim and its castle, and inform the baron.”

“With all respect, it’s obviously dangerous out there and—”

Mumfred pressed two fingers against James’s lips to shush him. The young messenger could not help but constantly glance at Hans’s body.

“I realize I’m volunteering you for a suicide mission. All I’m asking is you ride your horse to the port—not the Mannheim castle. You can do it. Stop for nobody. Dress warmly. The sun’s setting fast. Go!”

James sprinted to his quarters to prepare for the journey while Mumfred stared at the hushed crowd.

“I suggest all of you return to your duties, whatever they may be. If you live in the village—” Mumfred specifically addressed Beate and Heinrich but spoke loud enough so that other villagers could hear, “—then we will find shelter for you tonight.”

“Really?” It was Wilhelm.

“Young master,” Mumfred said. “We wouldn’t want the rest of the villagers to know that we forced their loved ones to travel dangerous paths while keenly aware that brutal killers lay in wait for them.”

“Just make sure they clean up after themselves,” Wilhelm said. “Now on to more important matters. I’m famished.” He surveyed the crowd and smiled. “Boris, what have you prepared for me?”

The housekeeper, a portly, profusely sweaty man of thirty whose cheeks flushed red, not out of embarrassment but because the kitchen was hot, stood in the gaggle’s rear.

“Per Lord Karl’s instructions, in honor of his guests, tonight the cooks have prepared roast duck, assorted vegetables and breads. It will be served at your leisure.”

“Splendid.” Mumfred clapped his hands. “My lords, after you.”

“I’ll take my meal in my chambers, if you please.” Wilhelm turned to the second gateway leading to the hall.

“I’ll sit with our guests,” Karl countered.

“You invited them. I’ll be ready for my fitting once they’re done gorging their little bellies.” Wilhelm glanced over his shoulder toward Beate as he walked. “You will thoroughly wash your hands.” And he was gone.

The assemblage of curious castle workers and residents dwindled. Atop his horse, James, the messenger, dressed in a woolen tunic and cloak for warmth, rode from the stables situated at the far side of the outer courtyard.

“Don’t leave yet,” Mumfred said and turned to Franco, the castle burgmann, who’d kept quiet but monitored the entire situation. “I want some of your best riders to escort him to the point where the bodies should be. Bring them back. Be on guard.”

“It will take but a minute to prepare.” A white-bearded warrior in his forties who was in charge of castle security turned to Otto, who served as his second-in-command. “I’ll take care of the riders. Get some sentries to line the drawbridge when our men leave. I don’t want anyone charging his way into this castle.”

Otto nodded and left.

“Beate and Heinrich, please follow me to the great hall.” Mumfred cordially extended his arm.

“What about him?” Beate pointed to Hans, his lifeless eyes still open.

“You need not worry. I don’t believe this knight was married, so that certainly saves us the grief of informing a wife. Now come. I do want the lords fitted beginning this evening. And you.” Mumfred addressed Heinrich. “I know you’re a skilled blacksmith, and you’re quite aware of the opening here. We’ll see what you can do tomorrow to perhaps earn you an extended stay. The baron will make the final decision, naturally. But since he’s not here, why not try you out?”

Heinrich smiled and looked at Beate, who beamed.

“What would you need, sir?” Heinrich said.

Mumfred waved over two stable boys who were escorting two knights’ horses to the front gatehouse. “After the knights leave, find a place to store this poor fellow.” Mumfred motioned to Hans. “Be dignified about it. We’ll bury him someplace tomorrow.”

The boys nodded and avoided eye contact.

“Now, as for what we’ll need.” Mumfred stroked his chin. “Based on current events, I would say weapons.”