Chapter Four ~ Lady of the Manor

Elisabeth went through the motions of daily life even after her brother had been laid to rest in the little church next to their mother. Albrecht was nowhere to be seen, having withdrawn from the preparations for Elias's funeral. Unsure if he had gone entirely, Elisabeth waited, trying to hang onto some sort of consciousness. She was Winterkirche now, at least until her father returned. Would he, wherever he was, learn of his son's death? Unlikely, as no firm news of him had come since he departed.

Even now as tidings of the Crusade began to trickle in there was nothing about Sigismund. Elisabeth heard that indeed, not long before Pope Urban II passed away, the forces of the Cross had taken Jerusalem. The Holy Father, the architect of the Crusade, never knew of its success.

Elisabeth was sitting in what was now her solar talking with her steward about mundane matters involving tenants when a servant came in and bowed to her. "Mistress, the squire Albrecht would like to speak with you."

"Well, bring him in! He need not stand on such ceremony!" She sat up straight, smoothed her bodice, and nodded to the steward. "We will finish later, Martin."

She stood to greet her friend as he came through the doorway. Her face darkened at the sight of him, thin, haggard. She came around the table and went to him and took his hands. His eyes were cast down to the rushes on the floor.

"My lady, I . . . I . . . ," he began.

"Albrecht, my dear, come to the embrasure and sit with me. I was afraid you had left us."

Sitting hesitantly by her he tried again. "My lady, I came to bid you farewell-"

She did not let him finish, but interrupted, "Farewell? Why?"

He looked up at her for the first time, his eyes full of perplexity. "My lady, I have no place here. The lord is in the Holy Land and my . . . the young lord . . . I was their squire. I have no employment here now."

She stared at him, her lips parted. "Oh dear, I had not thought of that. You have been part of our lives; I was thinking you would somehow just stay here. That was selfish of me. You want to be a knight. You can't do that here. Of course you want to leave."

He hesitated, looked about as if for guidance, then admitted, "I do not want to leave. This has been my home, the place where I have been the happiest in my life . . . I cannot be sure how I can . . . I don't know if I care about being a knight, not without Elias, the young lord, I mean . . . " His voice trailed off.

"Then why leave? I don't want you to leave. There must be something you can do here. I promised my brother I would look after you. Oh please don't go!" She took his hands in hers and held tight.

"But, my lady . . . ," he appealed.

"Damn it, Albrecht, stop calling me that. I am your sister. Stop being so damned servile."

Looking into her flashing eyes, he nodded silently and glumly. "Thank you, my l . . . Elisabeth."

Woodenly the household returned to normal. Elisabeth had acted in her mother's stead so long it came to her as rote. One of her duties, now performed alone, was to greet visitors. Preferring the comfort of solitude, Elisabeth performed her duties, bearing with the few who came, mostly travelers, two or three returning pilgrims, but none as disruptive as the one who arrived one damp and miserable morning.

Taking her accustomed place on the steps to the hall after the horn blast augured the approach of a mounted party, Elisabeth composed herself with dignity. The gate opened and the first of what sounded like a considerable troop of horses rode in. Elisabeth did not believe her eyes at first. The banners, the livery, the face-it was Reinhardt! She thought she might swoon, though she never had done so in her life. He was alive and back from the Holy Land. The solace of her solitude was fractured.

Reinhardt rode up to just before where she stood, her hand to her mouth in surprise. "Happy to see me, my dear?" he crooned mockingly. He waved off the groom who dragged the mounting block near, and, throwing one leg up behind him, he deftly dismounted to stand before her. He slowly drew his leather gloves off, took one of her hands and kissed it. He looked about. "Where is everyone?"

Elisabeth could not speak. Gratefully she heard Albrecht approaching from behind her left shoulder. He spoke solemnly. "Your Grace, I am sorry to inform you that this lady's mother and brother have passed on. Lord Sigismund went to the Holy Land many, many months ago."

Reinhardt stared at the squire. His eyes shifted back to Elisabeth. "This is true?"

All she could manage was a nod. She saw Reinhardt take it in, and then was disgusted to notice that a satisfied look had come across his countenance. She could almost hear his thoughts. "Mine! Then it is all mine!"

His men dismounted behind him. He turned to Albrecht and commanded, "Boy, see to it our horses are taken care of and provision made for my men's quartering."

Glancing over her shoulder at Albrecht, Elisabeth saw his pressed lips. She looked quickly back to Reinhardt, "My lord, you are of course more than welcome to Winterkirche. How long do you plan to stay?"

Reinhardt smiled sardonically. "It talks!" He sighed. "But have you forgotten? I am your husband. Until your father returns, I am lord of Winterkirche."

"Damn," he breathed. He slapped his leg with a riding crop and seemed to consider. "I will stay a fortnight, then, and return to put my estates in order." He gave her an annoyed look. "I suppose you cannot be ready to come with me that soon."

"But your Grace," Elisabeth began.

A slow smile crept along his lips. "Cannot wait that long, my love?" he said with a mocking leer. He took her hand again and kissed it. "Christ, why are we standing out here? I need a drink and a fire." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him up the steps and into the hall.

Reinhardt strode right up to the dais at the end of the hall and climbed and took the high seat where Sigismund traditionally had presided over meals and court. He pushed back Adalberta's chair with his foot. "Sit," he said. He called to the servants who hung about in the shadows along the side of the hall. "Here, you! Bring wine. And something to eat. Someone build up that fire."

His men were filing in through the door, eying the rest of the trestle tables where they were stacked against one wall. "Oh just sit," Reinhardt called to them irritably.

Reinhardt ordered servants to bring more chairs and called to his officers to join them at the high table. The wine flowed generously; the boisterous conversation belied the fact that the household was in mourning.

Reinhardt suddenly leaned to her and asked, "Is he buried?"

She looked at him startled. "Who?" she asked. She knew whom he meant but the word came out anyway.

"Your brother. That sodomite. Is he buried?"

Her face paled. She was not sure what the word meant, but she could guess it was not a praiseworthy thing to Reinhardt. "Yes, my lord, in the family vault in the church."

"Good," he replied shortly. "I hate funerals." He went back to talking with his men.

It was listening to that raucous group that told Elisabeth what had happened to Reinhardt in the Holy Land. When she was able to break away on the excuse she had to push the kitchen to prepare a feast for her husband and his men, she sought out Albrecht and shared the tale.

"It seems that once Jerusalem was in Christian hands, the Franks and the Flemings snatched up all the estates and positions. Whatever Reinhardt thought he was going to get it all went to others. As soon as he realized that, he set sail for home," she whispered to him in an alcove.

"More's the pity he had no reason to stay there," Albrecht growled.

"Albrecht, what is a sodomite?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. At last he asked, "Why do you ask, my lady?"

"That's what Reinhardt called my brother." She gazed at his face. He had gone pale. "Oh," she answered herself. "That. But how could he know?"

Albrecht shook his head. "I know not. But it may mean I must take leave of you."

"Why?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm.

Albrecht eyed her unhappily. "He may know about me, too, and that sort of man is not gentle with my sort."

At supper Reinhardt informed Elisabeth, "I have a guest coming with his small retinue tomorrow. I had hoped to introduce him to your father, but ah, well." He yawned. He reached to take her hand, leaning to look into her face. "Pity I am as tired as I am. I should like to have explored whether under all those unattractive clothes you had a real woman hidden." He laughed at her offended face. Kissing the hand he clutched in his fist, he said, "Better get used to the idea, my dear. You won't be a maid much longer."

The guest was an old comrade of Baron Reinhardt's from the Holy Land. He was a Frank, a knight, Gautier du Visage Cassé, and no better a piece of work than Reinhardt himself. He was tall with the muscular upper body of a swordsman, but his long legs seemed wrong, as if his own had been cut off by a Saracen and a skinnier man's legs sewn on to his trunk. He had greasy black hair that hung in his face. It was a saving Grace, since the long scar that gave him his soubriquet nearly split that face in two. One eye was gone and his eyelid literally sewn shut, the stitches black and ragged. His breath reeked. Even the Baron winced when the man leaned into his face to make some bawdy remark.

"Mon Dieu, Reinhardt! I did not know you were a buggerer. This is a boy, is it not?" He examined Elisabeth who stood silently next to the baron.

Reinhardt scowled but did not reply. He gestured his comrade to a seat at the table set on the dais at the end of the hall.

Gautier went to the dais, stepped up and took the seat indicated. Reinhardt ushered Elisabeth before him up onto the rise and seated her between him and the Frankish knight. Gautier glanced around the hall. "Who died? Everyone is going about with their chins scraping the rushes."

Reinhardt looked at Elisabeth as if waiting for her to answer the man's question. She cleared her throat. "My lord, my brother died quite recently."

"Her twin brother," Reinhardt added.

Gautier leveled his one-eyed gaze at her. "Identical twins, or so it seems. Are you sure they didn't mistakenly bury the girl?" He laughed at his own joke. "Well, can't you get some dancers or jongleurs in to lighten the mood? It's like mass in a poor monastery in here."

Reinhardt fingered his beard. "I regret to tell you, mon ami, that I brought no such with me. Any entertainers installed here at Winterkirche fled as soon as the young master died."

She had realized what he said was true by the morning after her brother's death. Not only had the minnesinger and other musicians decamped as soon as they knew a returning Baron Reinhardt would replace the young lord. Several of the servants had gone as well. She understood their fear and only envied them their ability to escape.

"Can it sing or dance?" Gautier smirked. He was looking at her.

"No, my lord," she hastily responded.

"I told you, Reinhardt, it's a boy. And not a very pretty one."

Reinhardt glowered. He gestured to a servant for wine and changed the topic. "What do you hear of the new call for crusade, my good fellow?"

New crusade? It was the first Elisabeth had heard of it.

Gautier took the cup of wine the servant placed before him. "His Holiness, the new pope, Paschal II I think he styles himself, has called for it. There was a letter sent to the Frankish churchmen. It seems that Baldwin thinks the Paynim will try to take back Jerusalem. My brother, who is an abbot, says he calls for 'all the soldiers of your region to strive for remission and forgiveness of their sins by hastening to our Mother Church of the East; to move their arses thither,' or words to that effect." He considered his comrade-in-arms. "Will you go, mon frère?"

Sitting back in his chair Reinhardt caught the hopeful look Elisabeth flashed at him. "I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear. I have been to the Holy Land and fought for the Faith. Therefore all my sins, past and future, are wiped away as the sun clears the dew. I have no intention of going back to that scorpion-infested sun-roasted hellhole. Not for God, not for the Pope, and certainly not for you."

Gautier laughed aloud. "Nor I, cher Reinhardt. I have lands to control, sons to beget, Frankish whores to bed and wine to consume. But you shall enjoy this. I hear His Holiness singled out those who fled the Siege of Antioch, promising they shall linger excommunicate and lightened of their lands and goods, unless they go back and make men of themselves again."

Reinhardt slammed his cup of wine onto the table before him, and slapping his thighs crowed, "My God! Stephen of Blois will never live that down. So I suppose he is going?"

The Frank shrugged.

Elisabeth ventured, "Did he flee the siege? Why?"

Reinhardt raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. "Interested, are we? Well, yes, he did and he did it because he is a lily-livered weak-assed shameful excuse for a man. He did worse than desert, he convinced Emperor Alexios to turn back with the army he was bringing to assist our armies."

Gautier joined in in a squeaky voice, "'They are dead, all dead, I tell you! Flee, flee for your lives!'"

"Were they all dead?" she asked, incredulous.

"Not 'they,' dear girl. 'We.' We were very much alive."

"I should not claim exactly that, my dear Gautier. We were starving to death. We were the ones under siege by then. That fool monk insisted the lance was buried in the church, and sure enough there it was. Everybody was hallucinating something. For the bishop it was a holy lance. I for one was hallucinating a feast served by houris."

Gautier made an obscene gesture, then seeing the woman's puzzled look, explained, "Virgins the heathens believe will serve them when they go to paradise."

"Sometimes I prefer the Paynim vision of paradise to our Heaven. I would rather lie in an oasis sipping nectar from the valley between a woman's breasts than on my knees before Our Lord singing psalms. Can you imagine Bohemond with his terrible voice singing psalms in the wrong key?"

Gautier toasted his host. "Mayhap in heaven all can sing like angels."

"So who is going?"

Gautier looked blank. "To heaven?"

"No, imbecile. On crusade." Reinhardt picked up the flask of wine from the table and refilled his friend's cup. When he started to pour some for Elisabeth he saw the cup was untouched. "Drink, you ugly bitch. Don't be inhospitable to my guests," he rasped in her ear.

She took the cup in her hands, brought it to her lips, glaring at him, but set the cup down as full as it had been before. He growled under his breath.

Gautier was speaking. "That Archbishop of Milan, Anselm or something, is gathering Lombards for a crusade. I have no idea if he is getting any recruits."

"Nothing from the Germans? The Franks?"

Gautier spread his hands. "How should I know? I would not put it past some of the young men who could not go the first time. And I suppose your Emperor will want to send someone."

"Humph! Well, God help them and the Devil take them!" was the Baron's ironic response.

Elisabeth allowed herself to relax as the two men drank and reminisced. All day she had been on edge, wondering when Reinhardt would demand his matrimonial rights. She swung between crippling fear and violent anger. She looked for Albrecht whom she knew was trying to stay out of the baron's sight.

"I can't stand it. I'll kill him. I'll run away." She spat as she paced the aisles between the stalls in the stable.

Albrecht could think of no comfort. His own nerves were raw, his internal debate as to whether to run himself and desert her taking its toll.

At the high table she began to wonder if she would be alone for one more night. It was little comfort but it was something. If he got drunk enough, perhaps he would not . . .

"Well, my dear, it is time for bed. I think under the circumstances the pomp and ritual of a bedding is unnecessary." It appeared that Reinhardt had shared the delay after their marriage with his friend, as the man just leered. Reinhardt gave him a brisk nod. "No father or mother here to stop me this time." He grasped Elisabeth's hand and stood, dragging her to her feet. She was too stunned at first to resist.

As they passed down the hall she started to hold back. Reinhardt spun to face her. "Do not even think of humiliating me before my men. You will get much worse than a bedding."

Her mouth agape, she let him lead her out of the hall and up the stairs. He took her to her parents' old chamber. Entering, he surveyed the servants' preparations and ordered them out. He kicked the door shut and bolted it.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded. He went to a table and poured himself wine.

Elisabeth did not move. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and glared at him.

After a moment he turned and stared mockingly at her. "What? Do you think I will just say, oh well, if you don't want to?"

"You are going to have to fight for whatever you take," she growled through bared teeth.

He took a long draught of the wine, put the cup down, and replied, "Actually, I rather like that idea." He strode the few feet to her and reached to grab her.

In a flash she had a knife in her hand. He jumped back when she would have stabbed him in the belly. "My God, woman, are you mad?"

She glared into his eyes. She watched him shake his joints loose and lean forward as if looking for an opening. He held no knife but nevertheless appeared to spar with her. He feinted, nearly grabbed her wrist with his other hand, then jumped back again as she avoided him. "You are quite the hellcat. I am going to enjoy this immensely."

She anticipated his next move, a double feint, but was unable to move fast enough when he grabbed for her and clasped both her hands in one of his. He twisted her wrists, grinning at her sharp cry of pain as she dropped her weapon.

He had his lower lip caught between his teeth and his eyes sparkled. He did not say a word. Instead he forced her backwards until the back of her legs hit the bed. Then he turned her around and forced her to bend so her upper torso was pressed on the counterpane and her knees pressed into the side of the bed. He put one hand on the small of her back and held her down. She tried to twist free, but it was no use.

She could tell he was fumbling with his other hand, pulling up her layers of skirts, finally ripping what he couldn't push away. His grunt was not of pleasure but of condemnation. "No arse to speak of, but they'd better be all right for childbirth."

Her arse exposed, she waited, forcing away tears. She swore at him continuously, calling him names he had not guessed a woman of her station might know. When it finally struck her that her behavior stimulated his lust, she stopped. The next sound out of her mouth was a scream as he forced his way into her, tearing her maidenhead violently, and all she could do was cry out over and over again.

Afterwards she stayed in her awkward position as he reached for the torn clothes on the floor. He tossed them on the bed next to her. "Get dressed and go. I don't like to share a bed."

She grabbed the clothes and without covering herself dashed as quickly to the door as the pain between her sticky thighs allowed. She fumbled with the bolt, and then shot it open, running out into the corridor half naked.

As she reached her own chamber door Albrecht stepped out from an embrasure. "My lady!" he cried with alarm.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me, you bastard!"

He saw the bruises Reinhardt's open palm left on her face, the torn clothing, and the fury in her eyes. "I'll kill him," he growled through clenched teeth. Putting his hand to the hilt of his sword he started to stride down the hall.

"No!" Elisabeth called after him after a moment's hesitation. "Come back. Please!" she wailed.

He slowed and stopped, turning to look at her. The appeal in her eyes drew him back to her. He hesitatingly put out his arms so she could, if she wished, enter them and receive comfort. She stared at the floor, and then quietly walked into his embrace. She could not prevent herself from shuddering at his touch.

Reinhardt used her again every night he remained at Winterkirche, seemingly oblivious to everything she did to make herself undesirable. She tried to hide, tried to lock herself in her chamber, and even attempted to escape him, but he had men watching her at all times. Her loyal serving-woman, Marta, tried to soothe her, to calm her, but her constant assurances that Elisabeth would grow used to the rough handling only made the girl withdraw further into herself.

The morning Reinhardt left she was forced to attend him. She stood hollow-eyed and distracted, causing the man's soldiers to elbow each other and laugh about how busy their lord had kept the wench. Reinhardt himself was grim but with a subtle air of self-satisfaction. He had made it clear to her that he expected her to quicken with child and to make him wait no longer for a son and heir. She nodded dumbly and watched him mount his horse and ride out of the gates.

Elisabeth never wanted to return to the hall, but she forced herself to do so the next day.

Over the ensuing days Elisabeth tried to go through the motions of keeping house. She quickly discovered that she had little to do. Reinhardt had informed her steward that if he wanted to keep his position, he would now only answer to himself and his representatives left behind to keep an eye on the girl and her possessions.

Elisabeth went looking for her only remaining ally, fearing that he, Albrecht, had decamped along with everyone else in spite of his protestations, a decision for which she could not fault him. She turned to go into the hall only to find herself face to face with Hans, one of Reinhardt's squires who was posted to keep an eye on her for his master. The young man's obscene smile startled her so she stepped backward. "Hans, remember yourself!" she demanded hotly.

The man stepped back and made a deep bow. "My lady," he acknowledged in an ironic voice.

"Just exactly why did he leave you here?"

Hans stood up straight and inclined his head. "I am to keep an eye on the feisty little bitch. Do not blame me!" he snapped as she lifted a palm to slap him. "I am just answering your question with the very words your husband used."

She scowled and passed him, not seeing the amused look he cast after her, a look that slid down her back to her rump, appraising.

"Oh good, you are here," Elisabeth whispered as she stepped through the stable door and saw Albrecht with Carlchen, his horse, currying his coat in a patch of sunlight. Carlchen was smaller than a destrier, but still big and chestnut in color.

The squire did not smile as he looked up, though he did make a short bow. "My lady, how come you here?"

She went to the gate of the stall, pulled it open and slipped in and alongside the horse. In the stall next to them, Elias's horse Gauner, a huge gray, nickered and put his nose over to be stroked. She went to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Oh Gauner, you miss him as much as we do, don't you?"

Albrecht continued to move along Carlchen's side with the currycomb. He waited for Elisabeth to turn back to him.

When she did at last, she seemed to be thinking how to say something. Slowly she began, "Albrecht, do you still mean to leave here?" Her eyes pleaded with him.

He sighed. Continuing his task he replied, "Yes, I must, with your leave of course. I know the Baron's type, same as most such. If he has any idea about Elias and me, I will be dead in no time."

Elisabeth stared uncomprehending. "You really think he would kill you?"

"It happens all the time."

"But you are from a noble family! They would never permit it!" she protested, recalling Sister Magdalena's words.

Albrecht's look was sardonic. "Perhaps, but at the stake or on a gallows is not the only way to be killed. A word in his guards' ears and I would be as good as dead. The best I can hope for is that he says nothing of his suspicions to any other knights."

Frowning, Elisabeth walked to the other side of the horse, letting her hand trail along its flank soothingly. "Could you go to the new crusade?"

He stopped brushing the chestnut coat of his horse and leaned back against the stall. "I may have to, my lady. Knights don't usually take on other knights' squires. You usually spend a long time with a family. Just as I did . . . here." His voice broke and he looked away.

She could not see him over the large horse's back, but she heard the emotion in his voice. She too leaned back against the stall, Gauner putting his head over to nuzzle her hair. "Do you think you could find a knight on the crusade?" Her own lips were turned down at their edges with sadness.

He paused, and then said desultorily, "I will have to."

"I wish I could go with you," she began, but a sound at the stable door made both young people look in that direction.

A fair crop of uncombed hair appeared over the top of the stall gate and then a supercilious face. "I wondered if I'd find the two of you together somewhere. Just in time, from the look of it." It was Hans.

Albrecht rankled. "You are speaking of a lady, churl. Show some respect."

Hans pulled the stall gate ajar just enough that he could stand in the gap. "It matters not to me, friend, if you are fucking the wench. I am just doing my job."

"Albrecht is a good and chaste fellow," Elisabeth snapped back, earning nothing more than a derisive snort from the squire.

"I am sure of it, my lady, as sure as the sun will rise in the west."

"You have a filthy mind," Albrecht said, advancing on Hans. His movements worried Carlchen who became jittery. Albrecht stopped his progress and turned his attention to calming the animal.

Hans's hands were up to ward off any assault, but now he dropped them to his side. He glanced at Elisabeth. With a small bow, he said, "As I said, I don't care if you spread your legs for all the farmers in the valley, save that it would mean hurt to me if his nibs heard of it. Frankly, I don't see what the squire sees in you. You are not exactly what they call a toothsome wench. The Baron wants the estates and a brat. Once he has those, I think you can be sure he will leave you alone."

"Get out of my sight!" Elisabeth shot at him.

He shrugged, turned at the door, not bothering to close the gate. "Just remember, I will know if you two are alone too long in a private place." He looked up and around inside the stable. "This is too open a place. I think you will be more circumspect than to rut on the floor in here." He ducked the flying currycomb and went out.

Elisabeth came around Carlchen's head and found Albrecht trembling with fury. She went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "What a fool," she said angrily. "If he only knew."

Albrecht looked hard at her. "If he only knew I would be dead for sure. That's why I have to get out of here."

Elisabeth had gone pale. "When will you leave?"

He went out of the stall to retrieve the currycomb, brought it back, pulling the gate shut behind him, and responded, "In a few days. Just long enough to make sure the baron is well on his way."

"Where will you go? To join the crusaders I mean?"

He shrugged. "I suppose south to Italy. Milan? Venice?" He averted his eyes and in a hesitating voice went on, "My lady, I am loath to ask this, but I shall need some help. . . . "

She looked up, eager. "Anything! What do you want me to do?"

He turned his back to her. She had to strain to understand his mumbled reply. "I need money, my lady. I have nothing to live on."

"Oh, of course." Elisabeth shook her head. "I can get some, though it will certainly be missed." She squared her shoulders and said in a rebellious tone, "What do I care if it's missed? It's yours, all you need." She put a finger to her chin. "Or . . . ," she began. "What about Elias's armor? And the horse? You could take them, use them, and sell them. Other than the horse, they would not be missed. . . . " Her voice trailed off as she went to where Gauner's muzzle overtopped the stall. She put a hand on his nose and stroked. "You would be terribly missed, my darling," she said to him.

"Let me think about it, my lady. I thank you for your generosity, whatever happens. I hate to leave you behind, but what else can we do?"

Elisabeth turned her face back to him. Her gaze was unfocused, far away. "I don't know." She paused. "Can you meet me in Elias's chamber after all are abed tonight?"

Albrecht eyed her warily. "What about Hans?"

"No, we don't want him there. Just the two of us," she said absently, too absent to have taken his meaning. She was deep in thought.

Hans had a guard on Elisabeth's chamber door that night. The man sat in the window embrasure across the corridor, but when her chamber door opened he leaped to his feet, at attention.

Elisabeth in her night robe looked out at him. "Here, man, come here!" she demanded imperiously. "The lazy maid forgot to fill this with water. How am I supposed to wash? Get me some water!"

"But my lady, I am not to leave my post," the man protested.

"Nonsense," she said, dismissively. "I am not going anywhere. I am half asleep already. Just go and get it. Or I will make your life hell."

He looked about but no help was at hand, so he stepped forward to take the pitcher she held out. He scowled but bowed to her and rushed down the corridor.

She was still standing at the door when he returned. She yawned deeply and took the pitcher. She looked into it and made a disgusted noise. "Where did you get this? The horse trough?" She thrust it back into his arms. "Go to the well by the kitchens. I am not going to wash in filthy water."

"B-but, my lady, it does come from the ki-"

She gave the man a furious glance and turned to go into her chamber. "A liar as well as incompetent. Just do it. Knock on my door when you get clean water."

He heard the bolt fall into place as the door thumped shut. Sighing he went back down the corridor.

When he returned he knocked on her chamber door. He got no answer. He reached to the latch and thought better of simply walking into his lady's chamber. He fumed, and then put the pitcher on the floor. He knocked again, and getting no answer went back to trying to stay awake in the embrasure. After a short while he dozed.

Albrecht was already in Elias's chamber when Elisabeth slipped in as quietly as she could. She put a finger to her lips to advise silence and leaned her ear to the thick wooden door. After a moment, she stood and went over to where he stood. She gestured to the settle, and they sat down together.

"I have an idea," she began without any preamble. "Why can't I go with you when you leave for the crusade?"

Albrecht stared at her, speechless. He finally managed, "How can you? You would be missed."

She smiled smugly. "Yes, but if I am not caught, what matters if I am missed?"

The squire stood and started to pace. "But Hans . . . "

"I have a feeling he can be dealt with," she said with conviction.

After a few turns around the chamber, Albrecht stopped his pacing. "You are probably right. He is as venal as I have seen a man." He started walking again, then stopped. "You aren't planning actually to go on crusade . . . ?"

"Of course not. I'm a woman, and a noble woman at that. I can hardly be a camp follower, but there's got to be some way to get out of Reinhardt's clutches. I will enter a convent before I let him touch me again."

"You would make one hell of an abbess," Albrecht said, "begging your pardon."

"Hmm, well, yes, but that's only as a last resort. Frankly, I don't know what I will do. I just want to get as far from here as possible."

Starting to pace again, the man considered. "How will you get away? You can hardly saddle up and ride off."

"Well, you need Elias's armor, right? You would have to carry it away, and that might be rather difficult to conceal. But what if someone wore it out of the manor?" She waited his understanding eagerly.

His pacing stopped abruptly. "You mean?"

She nodded. "I will wear it out. Then you can take it after we get wherever we go."

Albrecht sat down hard on the edge of the bed, so rapt with her idea he did not realize where he was sitting. "You would have to be disguised anyway to travel without being known. I don't know if any of the guards Reinhardt left behind would recognize Elias's armor, if we take the insignia off. Or you could wear a cloak over it."

Elisabeth forgot her fear and grief in the excitement. "I have an even better idea." She waited for him to look back up at her. "I will go to stay at Sister Magdalena's for a few days. You will leave before me. Then once I am there, you will come. You will transport the armor before that. Once you come I will put on the armor and leave. No one will see us leave together."

Albrecht put his palms down on either side of his hips. The touch made him realize where he was. He leaped up as if scalded. He stood a moment and gazed at the bed. He said something under his breath, sighed and turned back to her. "It could work. But what about Hans?" he asked again.

"Leave Hans to me."

She stood and went to the massive armoire that stood against one wall. She pulled the two doors toward her to reveal her brother's armor. "Do you think it will fit me?"

Albrecht came to her side. He reached to stroke the front of the breastplate. "You are of a height with him. The sleeves may be too long. The mail leggings too, and the boots too big, but we can manage. You won't actually have to fight in it, after all."

Albrecht joined her by a large chest and opened the heavy lid. He reached for a tunic that lay carefully folded on the top of the rest of Elias's clothes. He held it to his chest for a moment; his eyes closed, and then he held it out to her. "I can see already this will fit loosely."

As Elisabeth took the tunic as well as a few other items of clothing and held them up against her, Albrecht continued to search through the chest. She heard his sharp intake of breath. "What is it?"

He stood with something tiny in his fingers. It was a loop of braided dried grass. "I made it for him, years ago. I thought he must have thrown it away. But here it is." His eyes swam. He started to put the grass ring on his finger, but the dry grass tore. A sob erupted from his chest.

She put her hands on his shoulders and drew him to her. "Shhh, shhh," she comforted. "He is in your heart, where he will never change, never break, never leave you."

Hans approached her the next morning. "My man said you sent him for water last night. I will thank you, my lady, not to compromise my guards in the future."

She leveled a considering look on him. "Nothing untoward happened, did it?"

He smirked. "It did to him. He's spending the day locked up for punishment."

"He told you the truth voluntarily, but you punish him?" she asked incredulously. "You are just teaching your men to keep their mouths shut."

Hans scowled, but then cast her a speculative look. He stepped forward, first glancing about for witnesses. "I can be taught to keep my mouth shut . . . ," he led.

She returned his frank look. "You can, can you? And how do I know that?"

He sighed and stepped back. "Is my word not enough for you?" He could not help smiling as she laughed aloud. "Well, I can't blame you for your skepticism. What you don't know is that I detest the bastard, my master Reinhardt. He is a nasty son of a bitch and passes me over time and again for reward, praise or elevation. What's more . . . " He hesitated. "No, that I won't tell you."

She looked at him appraising. "You are sincere, aren't you? Aren't you afraid I will tell him?"

The man shrugged. "I hope you won't. It would get you nothing but scorn from the bastard. And . . . " He went near her again. "And I could be a good ally in your household." He reached to take a lacing at her neckline and twist it around a finger. "No reason the baron gets to be the only one to have some pleasure on the side. Once you are with child, what difference will it make?"

Elisabeth slapped his hand away. "I thought you did not find me appealing?"

Hans, who was looking at her flat chest, smiled ruefully. "Tit for tat," he murmured, chuckling over his own jest. "Let's just say I want to do to him what he did to me."

"A woman?" she asked, suddenly realizing what he implied.

He stared hard and angry into her face. "Never you mind."

Elisabeth stood still for a moment, and then reached to put her hand on his chest. He smiled and put his own hand over hers, rubbing his thumb along its side caressingly. He watched her thin lips as they moved. "What if you could get even and get gold at the same time?" she asked.

Hans lifted an eyebrow, thrusting up his lower lip as if thinking about her suggestion. "I could have you and gold?" he said skeptically. "If I had enough gold, I would be happy to forego you, my lady." He looked into her eyes. "How much gold?"

She knew she had named a good sum when his eyes widened and the pupils dilated. "And what am I to do for this gold? And how do I know it even exists?"

She stepped back away from him. "Let me just say that if I cannot produce it for you, you need not do anything."

He smiled, "That sounds fair. So what next?" He reached for her.

She skittered back out of reach. "Just do nothing. I will let you know what I need. It won't be long."

Hans stared at her, his eyes hard. "This better not be a trick. I could do you and that little lover of yours a great deal of harm."

She returned his hard gaze. "It is not a trick. You will see."

Hans extended a hand as if he was about to touch her face, but the hand detoured to a thin gold chain around her neck. He cupped the opal that hung from it. "Care to offer some surety?"

Her breath stopped. The pendant was a gift from her father and very precious to her. But it might be the thing that assured her escape. "Y-yes, take it."

She put up her hands to undo the clasp behind her neck, but the squire had his hands there first. He let them linger, close as he was now close enough to her face that he could see the flutter over the pulse in her throat. He stroked her neck with his thumbs, and then reached farther to release the necklace. He held it in the palm of one hand and examined it carefully.

"Nice. Very nice. And there is more, I take it?" His eager eyes lifted to her face.

"Yes. Even nicer than that bauble."

He settled back with his weight on one foot, considering her. "And you are willing to give it all up for that squire?"

Her lack of response satisfied his curiosity, even if wrongly. "I suppose the Baron must not be right about him. I am sorry, my lady, but you do look more like a boy than a girl."

"What do you mean, the Baron is right?" she demanded.

"That your leman is a sodomite. My master does not like sodomites. He decided to let the man leave on his own, but if he finds him here when he returns he plans to throw him to whichever guards most want to tear him to pieces." Hans's lips narrowed in a sneer.

"Why would he do that?" Elisabeth realized at once she should have played stupid, but it was too late now.

"I told you. He doesn't like them. I personally do not mind. Whatever pleasure a man wants. And a woman too. Let them. But maybe they get the Baron randy and that upsets him." Hans shrugged. "How long must I wait for these secretive plans of yours to come to fruition? Reinhardt won't stay away forever, you know."

She tried not to let him see her anxiety. "Soon. A few days. No more."

He grinned. "Good." He clamped his fingers shut on the treasure in his palm, made a mocking bow and spun on his heels. She watched him go, praying she had not made a fatal mistake.

"The Baron plans to kill you if you are still here when he returns!"

Albrecht's face grew deathly pale. "Did Hans tell you that?"

She nodded. "We need to get our plans into action. When is the soonest you can leave?"

"Tonight! I would leave right this minute but you still want me to get your brother's armor out of the manor, right? I mean, is that not your desire, my lady?"

Elisabeth looked into his eyes. "Can you do that tonight? Take it to Magdalena's and let her know what we plan."

"I will. Do you have something I can bribe the lookout with? I think I can get past the rest."

"I can give you something," she said. "But what if you pretend you are loading out your own belongings? If you did that you could leave in daylight. That would make it look less suspicious."

Albrecht hesitated. "You may be right, my lady. I will still need time to pack up Elias's gear."

"Will it all fit in his clothing chest?"

"I think so," he replied, "but what about the clothes?"

"I will put them on under my gown when I leave. No one has any reason to go into Elias's chamber. I think we can get away with it. Just wait until supper when everyone will be in the hall and the kitchen and you can sneak out by way of the outside stairway."

They stood and looked at each other silently.

"So it's really going to happen," Elisabeth said.

Albrecht took her hands. "And you are certain about this? It is terribly risky. I have to go, but you do not."

She squeezed his hands, and then let them go. "I do not want to leave. I have no idea where I will go. But I cannot stay here. Not and be Reinhardt. If I stay, I will either go mad or die, or both."

His eyes were full of sorrow. "I do not want to leave either. All my memories of Elias are here. But I can't just wait for whatever brutal death the Baron would improvise for me. I suppose at this point we are damned if we do and damned if we don't."

"That is one way of putting it," she said grimly.

Supper that day was nerve-wracking for Elisabeth. She sat on the dais trying not to keep looking toward the exits from the hall. She jumped at every dropped platter. It was a relief when at last she could lay down her eating knife, wipe her mouth on a cloth, and go up to her room claiming to need a nap. In her chamber she carefully looked out the window. The guards at the door were in the act of shutting the gates. She cupped a palm to her ear hoping she could catch the sound of hoof beats or talk. She could tell the guards were talking, laughing, but could not make out their words. Sighing, she turned from the window.

"I do not blame the little bugger. If I was one of those, I'd get the hell out before the old bastard gets back!" one of the guards, walking across the courtyard, had called back to the other.

That man, still near the gates, called back, "Well tell the squire he took all his gear and then some. Or don't bother with that last. Let the poor bugger get off with whatever he's stolen. What do we care?"

Elisabeth slumped back against her chamber wall and sighed with relief. Just days now and she would go for her "retreat" with the reclusive woman. Would Albrecht be there? Would he have the armor? Or would he leave her and get away? After all, she had offered him the armor so he could make his way in the world. All she could do was pray and wait.