Hammer of the Witch Page 13

  “Ordulf?” Wilhelm slipped into the seat across from him. I stood silently for a minute, wondering if Ordulf would remember me and if he knew I was a wanted man. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a great idea for me to come into the tavern. What if I was recognized? I tucked my chin to my chest and slid into the seat next to Wilhelm, hoping the shadows would hide my face from curious eyes.

  “Wilhelm? Is it you? Ha! Good to see you, friend. Let me buy you a drink.” Ordulf slapped the table, rattling the mug and trencher.

  “No, I’m not here to drink. My wife and daughter have been accused and taken.” Wilhelm’s face was expressionless, as if carved from stone. “They are due to be tried on the morrow.”

  To his credit, drunk or not, Ordulf’s smile slid from his face. “I’m sorry, Wilhelm. They always seemed like good women to me.”

  “They are good women!” There was venom in Wilhelm’s voice, so much so that even I leaned away from him. “The accusations are lies. They are pious women who would never do any of the things of which they are accused!”

  Ordulf waved his hands, as if trying to calm Wilhelm down. “I believe you, I believe you, my friend. Such goings on, how can it be? How can so many be guilty of witchery?”

  I spoke up. “They can’t.” Ordulf gaped at me as if he was seeing me for the first time.

  “You… I know you. I hired you and another young man to work in the stables at the manor.”

  I nodded. “You did, and I’m grateful, but I need another favor, Ordulf.”

  “I have heard you stole from the archbishop! Word has it he sent his best men in pursuit of you. Is it true?”

  “They chased me but didn’t catch me.”

  I was afraid Ordulf was going to start shouting for help, that there was a wanted criminal sitting at his table, but instead, he just laughed. “I’ll be. I’d never thought a scrawny little pup like you could outrun von Schönenberg’s best men!”

  “Yeah, well, they’re big but not very bright, I guess.”

  “Good for you! And your friend? Did he get away also?”

  His smile died as he realized from my expression that Grant had not made it to freedom. “Ah, that’s too bad. Is that why you’ve come back?”

  I nodded. “The truth is we need your help, Ordulf. If Wilhelm’s wife and daughter and my friend go to trial, you know they’ll be found guilty even though they’re all innocent.”

  “All innocent?” Ordulf cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Okay, we did steal a book from von Schönenberg, but we didn’t have a choice! Besides, is stealing a stupid book cause for a death sentence? You know that’s what von Schönenberg and Meier will give him. And the women are completely innocent. They’re no more witches than you are.”

  Ordulf gasped and looked around in near panic. “Quiet! If someone hears such a thing, I might be accused!”

  “Exactly my point. Innocent people are being accused with no proof at all. It can happen to any of us at any time. It has to stop.” I reached across the table, grabbed his hands, and held them tight. “You can help us save them, Ordulf.”

  His eyes grew round and wide. “Me? How?”

  Wilhelm smiled. “We have a plan.”

  Well, it was sort of a plan, but I didn’t think it an appropriate time to bring up the fact I hadn’t yet sorted it all through. “Yeah. A plan, and it involves something only you can get for us.” That much was true, at least.

  “What do I have that you need? I have little coin.”

  “Not money.” I leaned in across the table and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Black powder.”

  He gasped so hard I was afraid he’d suck his mustache into his mouth and choke on it. “You’re insane! That powder belongs to the baron!”

  “I know. I don’t need it all—just a little. Maybe enough to fill two of these mugs.” I could see Ordulf getting ready to refuse and hurried on before he could. “I saw the barrels in the stable. Meier won’t even miss it. You’re the only one who can get in and out without anyone being suspicious. I can’t do it—if anyone sees me, I’ll be thrown in the dungeon with everyone else.”

  “Hmph. That’s only if von Schönenberg doesn’t order you drawn and quartered immediately. He doesn’t take lightly to being a laughingstock. And folks are laughing at him—foiled by a scrawny pup. They combed the city looking for you but never found a single trace.” He shook his head and chewed on his lower lip, making his mustache bob almost comically. “Suppose I agreed to get you some. I’m not saying yes, mind you, but what would you do with it? Black powder is very dangerous.”

  “I know. That’s why I don’t want very much. I need to create a diversion, something that will draw all of Baron Meier’s men from the house and out of the dungeon so we can go in and get the accused out. With a couple of large mugs of black powder, I can make a sort of fiery blast that will do the trick.”

  “And where do you suppose to make this fire?” Ordulf folded his arms over his chest. “Fire can spread quickly. I’ll not have the souls of innocents on my conscience.”

  I neglected to remind him of all the people he’d stood by and watched tortured, hanged, and burned for being witches, most of whom were innocent and few of whom had done harm to anyone else. “In the one place that’s almost guaranteed to be empty today. After all, only a handful of people would ever want to be inside it unless absolutely necessary, and every one of those few are evil to the core—the courthouse.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ORDULF SMIRKED, and in that lopsided smile, I saw that I had him. He’d do it, if for no other reason than to see the courthouse go up with a bang. “Very well, then. I’ll get you your two tankards of black powder. But that’s where my help ends, understand? I’ll not be caught with you trying to break accused witches out of the baron’s dungeon.”

  I huffed at his stubbornness. “They’re not witches, and you know it.”

  “Accused, I said.”

  “As good as convicted if they go to trial.”

  “Well, I’ll get you the black powder anyway. Then we’re done with our business, eh?” He looked back and forth from me to Wilhelm. We both nodded our agreement. “Good. I’ll meet you at the alley between the church and the manor. You remember it? You can reach it from behind the manor house.”

  I nodded. “I remember.”

  “First hour after sunset. I’ll not be seen sneaking around with stolen black powder in full daylight.” He waved us off. “Now, go on with you. I’ve serious drinking to do before then.”

  My jaw dropped open. “Don’t get drunk, Ordulf. Like you said, black powder is dangerous. Too dangerous to handle while sloshed.”

  “Sloshed? You mean in my cups?” He sneered at me. “Who are you? My mother?”

  Wilhelm grabbed my arm. “Leave him be, Ash. He can handle his ale—I’ve seen it before.”

  I wasn’t happy, but there was nothing I could do, and I didn’t want to jeopardize our little agreement with Ordulf. Wilhelm and I stood, and with a nod and a wave, we left the Stone Sow.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “We find somewhere dark and out of the way to wait until sunset.” Wilhelm led the way around the corner to where the cart waited. Aside from a few potatoes snatched by quick-footed neighborhood children, nothing had been disturbed.

  I offered a suggestion. “There’s a nice, quiet neighborhood over at the far end of the city near the laundry field. There aren’t any nobles in the area. I’ve only seen peasants like us. I don’t think anyone will bother us, especially if we keep to an alley.”

  Kruger nodded. “I know the place, and the boy is right. We should be safe there. It’s only a couple of hours now until dark. Then we can go wherever we wish without risking too much.”

  I climbed up on the cart and used it to more easily mount Samson, then tapped my heels against his massive sides. He started off, his dinner-plate hooves striking dully on the dirt road. I heard the cart creaking behind me and the softer clops of the grays as I l
ed them down the long road toward the other side of town.

  We turned off at an alley just a block or two from the laundry field. The alley was quiet—there was little foot traffic aside from a few children playing quietly on the muck-filled street and a couple of people carrying a bundle of laundry either to or from the field.

  Samson ducked his head into the wagon and came up munching on a few carrots. I let him eat—he deserved a treat after carrying my ass all over medieval Germany. After heaving a sigh, I shifted my weight to as comfortable a position as I could manage and settled in to wait.

  Wilhelm was not content to let me rest. “Tell me now, Ash, what is your plan once we get the black powder?”

  I paused a moment, gathering my thoughts. “Okay. Like I told Ordulf, we need a diversion. From what I saw, the church and the manor house—in fact, every structure in town—has a lot of wood in it. Black powder will explode and bring everyone running. They’ll be afraid of it starting a fire. Every able-bodied man will be sent to make sure the manor house and church don’t catch.”

  Wilhelm nodded. “You’re right. Fire is a very serious concern in a town this size.”

  “As soon as the men leave the manor house, we’ll go in and disarm any guards who might be left with the prisoners. It shouldn’t be a problem—we’ll have the element of surprise. Then we let the accused out, find Brida, Irmla, and Grant, and get the hell out of Dodge… er, get out of Trier. We should be gone before anyone even realizes what we’ve done.”

  Another nod from Wilhelm. “It’ll be full dark by then too. Even with a bright moon, it’ll be difficult for people to see us. And once we cross the bridge out of town, we can go overland instead of staying on the road.”

  Kruger chimed in. “I know the area on the other side of the bridge very well. I can get us to the stream without trouble, but we’ll have to cross it in the dark. That could be dangerous.”

  “You mean the one we stopped at to rest the horses?” I asked.

  Wilhelm nodded. “Yes, that’s the one. We have lanterns, Kurt. One should be all we need to see our way across. There’s a shallow crossing south of the road bridge. The horses will have no trouble negotiating it.”

  Kruger thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I know the place you’re thinking of, and it’s passable, especially at this time of year. In spring, it’s much deeper with runoff from the mountains.”

  “Well, we needn’t worry about spring floods in early fall.” Wilhelm almost smiled, I was sure of it. The corner of his mouth actually twitched.

  We fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts. The void was filled occasionally by Samson or one of the grays snorting, or the sound of one of the children laughing.

  The kids had disappeared soon after we arrived. I don’t know where they went, but it wasn’t far because I could still hear them giggling from time to time. They were probably hidden in the dark shadows of an alley or doorway, watching us. Their curiosity when we first arrived was quickly squashed by Kruger yelling at them and brandishing the whip he used to urge the grays on faster. The children had scattered like a flock of ragged birds.

  The shadows cast by the cart and horses slowly grew longer as the sun began to set, the silence broken only by sporadic conversations between the men. I grew more and more nervous with each passing minute. This was my plan, after all, thought out and plotted by no one but me. Me, the criminal mastermind who was on his third strike because he kept getting caught doing stupid stuff he thought was cool at the time. And as a direct result of being such a lawbreaking genius, was sent by the court to the Stanton School for Boys, where I met Grant and landed in Merlin’s history class and eventually ended up in freaking medieval Germany sitting on the back of a massive horse, waiting to make a bomb for the first time in my life based on a single half-remembered chemistry class.

  Oh yeah, this was going to end well. I could just see it.

  Suddenly I thought of something that terrified me and almost made me call the whole damn thing off. In my time, the not-medieval one, contemplating doing what I was about to do would end quickly with me being hauled off by Homeland Security and probably being placed on the No-Fly List, or worse, thrown in prison and forgotten. And believe me, there’d be nobody sitting on a horse in an alley waiting to bust my scrawny ass out of jail.

  This was a different time, though, and the situation was literally life or death. A black powder explosion was the only thing I could think of that might give us the opportunity to rescue Brida, Irmla, and Grant. In my own time, if I couldn’t call the cops, I’d just pull the fire alarm or something. Still illegal, but at least I wouldn’t be blowing up the school or anything so drastic.

  I tried to pick a place where people weren’t likely to be, and I really, really hoped nobody got hurt. I didn’t even want to burn anything down. All I wanted was to make a big bang and draw everyone away from where we needed to go, that’s all.

  Now if I could manage to do it without blowing my own or anyone else’s head off, that would be peachy.

  Wilhelm’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. “It’s full dark. Best we start making our way back. It’ll take us longer to get to the manor if we want to move quietly.”

  I nodded and took up Samson’s reins. I tugged to the left, and Samson responded, turning in that direction. Good horse. I was going to miss him when Merlin’s magic sent me and Grant home.

  The moon wasn’t up yet, but we didn’t dare risk lighting more than a single lantern, which I held up with my left hand. I can’t explain how dark it was—in today’s world, there are so many cities, so many electric lights that it’s difficult to know what real dark is like. If you take yourself into a closet and shut the door, maybe that would give you an idea. The dark in medieval Germany is claustrophobic, thick, almost suffocating, and the weak, flickering yellow light from my lantern did almost nothing to beat it back.

  It was enough, though—just—to allow us to pick our way along the streets to the alley between the manor and the church. Although it seemed to take forever, I suspect only thirty minutes or so passed before I could see the light of lanterns gleaming from within the manor. Samson and I led the cart past the manor and turned into the alley between the large, elaborate house and the church next door. I blew out the lantern as soon as we were in position, and we waited, holding our collective breaths for Ordulf to appear.

  For a while it seemed as if he was going to be a no-show. I could feel the time slipping past me, skittering across my body like a cloud of gnats. By the time an hour passed, I was so nervous I felt like I was almost crawling out of my skin.

  I jumped, and Samson sidestepped nervously, tossing his head, when a whisper called out to us.

  “Wilhelm? Where are you?” It sounded like Ordulf, although it was too dark to see him. I wasn’t sure, but Wilhelm must’ve been.

  “Here,” Wilhelm answered.

  I heard the sound of flint striking steel and then saw the flicker of flame as Wilhelm lit a lantern. He held it up, and the yellow glow revealed Ordulf’s face.

  “Careful with that flame!” Ordulf’s voice hissed, but even so, it was louder than I would’ve liked. Half the city could probably hear him whisper. He held up two large tankards. “Unless you want to blow us all to heaven!”

  He’d taken me at my word, literally—he’d filled two of the big mugs from the Stone Sow with black powder.

  “Oh my God.” I practically jumped off Samson’s back and snatched the first box I could reach on the back of the wagon. I think it was full of potatoes, but I really couldn’t make them out in the dark. Not that it mattered—I dumped them in the street, and then, holding the empty box, raced over to where Ordulf stood. I proffered the box, letting Ordulf carefully place both tankards inside it.

  I stood holding the box on the other side of the alley, safely away from any stray spark that might fly from the candle inside the lantern.

  “I’ve kept my word. Now keep yours and forget you know my
name.” Ordulf nodded at Wilhelm, then at me. A moment later he’d melted into the darkness.

  I wished him luck. He’d treated Grant and I well, helped us out, and came through with the black powder. “Okay, Wilhelm. You know what to do now, right?”

  He nodded. “We’ll be ready to move into the manor as soon as your diversion happens.”

  I offered him a smile. “Wish me luck.”

  “May every angel in heaven be at your side.”

  “Good. I’m going to need their help. Okay. Hand me the rope from the back of the wagon, and I’m going to need a steel striker and a flint.”

  Wilhelm handed the lantern to Kruger, then fetched the items I needed. He hopped down from the cart and crossed the alley to hand them to me. He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment, heavy but reassuring. “I have faith in you, Ash. For my Irmla and Brida and your friend Grant, as well as the others, I know you’ll succeed.”

  “Thanks, Wilhelm. That means a lot.” I felt a lump in my throat and realized I’d come to respect Wilhelm. He was stoic, strong, and often single-minded, but he cared very much for his family and friends. I covered the rush of emotion by setting the tankards on the ground and taking the steel striker and the flint. I stuffed them in my pouch, then reached for the coil of rope and settled it on my shoulder. He handed me one last item—a large kitchen knife, which I slid into my boot. After I picked the tankards back up, I nodded to Wilhelm and started off.

  It was easier than I thought to pick my way around the corner to the main road and turn, heading toward the courthouse. My eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and the moon was rising. It wasn’t full, but it didn’t need to be. It was bright silver in the black sky and lit the street well enough for me to see.

  I passed the manor and glanced at the windows lit with candles. All seemed quiet and peaceful, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long if I had my way. I smirked and whispered to myself, “Courthouse go boom.”

  A full five minutes passed before I reached the object of my hopeful destruction. The courthouse sat just as I remembered it—a drab stone building much like the other drab stone buildings surrounding it. I had to rely on my memory of the place, but once I slipped inside—evidently, no one thought to lock the door of the courthouse because, I suppose, no thief in his right mind would want to break in—I knew I was in the right place. The setup was just as I remembered it to be. A long table at the head of the room, the wooden frame with its dangling manacles waiting for the next person accused of witchcraft to be stripped, searched, and tortured.