Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 by The Lady of the Castle
Authors: The Lady of the Castle
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threw him into the water. Briefly watching as the current took hold of the man and carried him away, Vyszo then turned and ordered the other two to hurry. The war wasn’t over yet, and each battle they won brought them a little closer to their liberation from the German yoke.
PART TWO
THE WIDOW
1.
Marie was woken by her screams. Trembling, she sat up, pressing her hands on her wildly beating heart and gasping for breath as if she’d just run up every staircase in the castle. She’d dreamed of Michel again, and the images were still dancing in front of her eyes, taunting her. This time, too, he’d been close enough to touch. The knights who accompanied him had mocked and ridiculed him before leaving him to fight a crowd of demons on his own, under whose bodies he was eventually buried. This nightmare had been even worse than previous ones, because she’d watched Michel, covered in blood, falling into a river that was already dyed red. In vain she’d reached out her hand to rescue him, but the waves carried him into a raging whirlpool, dragging him into the depths.
A strong kick from her unborn child reminded her that her thoughts should not only be about Michel and the past, but also about the future. She stroked her stomach softly and made a quick calculation. Michel had left in March, and it was now the beginning of November, so her child would be born in one and a half months at the latest. Until then she had to continue to be careful and do everything she could to protect herself and the unborn baby.
Marie rose and filled her cup with cold tea from the jug standing on the bedside table, inwardly thanking Hiltrud for collecting and mixing herbs that were supposed to be good for pregnant women. Over the summer, Marie had spent more time on the goat farm than at Sobernburg Castle, which seemed gloomier and more depressing every day that Michel was away. She dreaded having to spend winter behind these cold walls with the unsympathetic Marga, but since she couldn’t ride Bunny anymore and the carriage rattled her bones, the trip to the goat farm had become too difficult. Hiltrud now made the long trip to the castle herself almost every day, and though Marie was glad for her friend’s visits, she would have preferred to be spoiled by Hiltrud at the homey goat farm.
“To hell with Marga and to hell with this castle!” Marie swore. She wanted to ask the count palatine to appoint a deputy for Michel so she could move to the goat farm. But that would have disappointed Michel. For more than ten years they had managed Rheinsobern together, and she knew her husband was relying on her and presumed she would do her duty.
If he’s still alive , she thought, a shiver running down her spine. She lay back down, breathing deeply to relax, and wondered yet again why she hadn’t received a single message from Michel. She’d written to Nuremberg twice already, because she had heard that the imperial troops assembled there before each new attack on the Bohemians. In the first letter she had told him about the pregnancy, and at the end of summer she had assured him that she and the unborn child were well. But he had neither replied nor sent his greetings through the count palatine. The only news she heard from Bohemia was from merchants and wandering minstrels, and it wasn’t good. Apparently, the kaiser wasn’t having any better luck in defeating the Hussite rebels nor in defending neighboring countries.
Marie’s thoughts turned back to Michel, her worries and fears rising up inside her. She tried to push them aside and go back to sleep but only tossed and turned, fighting tears. The hours crept by slowly until a faint glow in the east announced the new day and she could get out of bed.
Shortly after the ringing of the ten o’clock bell, a herald of the count palatine raced through the gate and stopped his panting horse outside the great hall.
“I have a message for the mistress!” he called out to Marga, who was
PART TWO
THE WIDOW
1.
Marie was woken by her screams. Trembling, she sat up, pressing her hands on her wildly beating heart and gasping for breath as if she’d just run up every staircase in the castle. She’d dreamed of Michel again, and the images were still dancing in front of her eyes, taunting her. This time, too, he’d been close enough to touch. The knights who accompanied him had mocked and ridiculed him before leaving him to fight a crowd of demons on his own, under whose bodies he was eventually buried. This nightmare had been even worse than previous ones, because she’d watched Michel, covered in blood, falling into a river that was already dyed red. In vain she’d reached out her hand to rescue him, but the waves carried him into a raging whirlpool, dragging him into the depths.
A strong kick from her unborn child reminded her that her thoughts should not only be about Michel and the past, but also about the future. She stroked her stomach softly and made a quick calculation. Michel had left in March, and it was now the beginning of November, so her child would be born in one and a half months at the latest. Until then she had to continue to be careful and do everything she could to protect herself and the unborn baby.
Marie rose and filled her cup with cold tea from the jug standing on the bedside table, inwardly thanking Hiltrud for collecting and mixing herbs that were supposed to be good for pregnant women. Over the summer, Marie had spent more time on the goat farm than at Sobernburg Castle, which seemed gloomier and more depressing every day that Michel was away. She dreaded having to spend winter behind these cold walls with the unsympathetic Marga, but since she couldn’t ride Bunny anymore and the carriage rattled her bones, the trip to the goat farm had become too difficult. Hiltrud now made the long trip to the castle herself almost every day, and though Marie was glad for her friend’s visits, she would have preferred to be spoiled by Hiltrud at the homey goat farm.
“To hell with Marga and to hell with this castle!” Marie swore. She wanted to ask the count palatine to appoint a deputy for Michel so she could move to the goat farm. But that would have disappointed Michel. For more than ten years they had managed Rheinsobern together, and she knew her husband was relying on her and presumed she would do her duty.
If he’s still alive , she thought, a shiver running down her spine. She lay back down, breathing deeply to relax, and wondered yet again why she hadn’t received a single message from Michel. She’d written to Nuremberg twice already, because she had heard that the imperial troops assembled there before each new attack on the Bohemians. In the first letter she had told him about the pregnancy, and at the end of summer she had assured him that she and the unborn child were well. But he had neither replied nor sent his greetings through the count palatine. The only news she heard from Bohemia was from merchants and wandering minstrels, and it wasn’t good. Apparently, the kaiser wasn’t having any better luck in defeating the Hussite rebels nor in defending neighboring countries.
Marie’s thoughts turned back to Michel, her worries and fears rising up inside her. She tried to push them aside and go back to sleep but only tossed and turned, fighting tears. The hours crept by slowly until a faint glow in the east announced the new day and she could get out of bed.
Shortly after the ringing of the ten o’clock bell, a herald of the count palatine raced through the gate and stopped his panting horse outside the great hall.
“I have a message for the mistress!” he called out to Marga, who was
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