Hammer of the Witch Read online

  Schmidt huffed, his mustache bobbing with the passage of air. “Hmph. Unusual names. From where do you hail?”

  “They come from far away. They are harmless, though.” Wilhelm nodded toward the road. “This is as far as I can take you, boys. Good day to you.”

  We got the hint and scrambled down off the wagon. Grant offered them a smile. “Uh, thank you for the ride and the food, Mr. Bauer. Good day to you too. And to you, Mr. Schmidt.”

  Neither Wilhelm nor Schmidt answered him, and I tugged on his arm as I began walking away. I could feel Schmidt’s sharp gaze boring into my back as we left. He didn’t seem to believe Wilhelm’s claim that we were harmless.

  I suppose in Trier, where people believed in evil curses, and where even your next-door neighbor who you’ve known all your life might be a witch, stranger danger took on a whole new meaning.

  Chapter Five

  ASH AND I hurried off, and neither of us said a word until we’d turned the corner and were out of sight of Wilhelm and Schmidt. Even so, we kept our voices low and didn’t talk when we might be overheard by a passerby.

  Luckily for us, the street wasn’t very busy. It looked like it was mostly residential, just a long row of narrow, well-kept houses without any busy shops or taverns. We strolled along, arguing in soft but urgent voices.

  I thought we should go to the church and see the archbishop. The book was about ferreting out witches and evil, after all. Who else would be more likely to have a book like that than the archbishop?

  Ash disagreed. Big surprise. I could say the sky was blue and he’d come up with a hundred and ten reasons to prove why it was green.

  “I think the sheriff has it. The book is used to identify and get confessions from witches, right? It makes sense for the law to have it.”

  “The church is safer for us to go to than the sheriff’s office.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says every movie I ever saw. The hero always seeks sanctuary in a church.”

  Ash snorted at me. “Is that what we are? Heroes?”

  “Well, we’re not villains.”

  Amused surprise lit his eyes. “You know, that almost makes sense in a twisted, Grant sort of way.”

  “Should I feel privileged you finally agree with me about something? Because I don’t.”

  “God, you are such an ass.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with my butt.”

  “I didn’t say you had one. I said you are one.”

  “Sure, sure. Okay, we’ll go to the church first.”

  The humor left his eyes, and he touched my arm. “You’re right about one thing, Grant. We need to be careful. Something tells me this is a lot more dangerous than we think.”

  “It’s a book, Ash. How dangerous can it be?”

  “You heard what Merlin said. It’s one of the most blood-soaked books in history. That means either it’s dangerous or at least the ideas in it are. We need to watch our step.”

  I nodded. “Okay, okay. Can we go now?”

  “You bet. Let’s get a move on. I want to be home before dinnertime. It’s Tuesday, and that means the school cafeteria has tater tots.”

  “I am not going to risk our necks for some stupid tater tots.”

  “Aw, don’t hate on the tots, Grant.”

  His lopsided grin made me feel a whole lot better than I had any business feeling. Looking up, I pointed toward a fancy spire near the center of town. “I think I remember seeing that on the church.” We started walking again. “Speaking of food, do you smell something?”

  “Besides the stench of humanity? No.”

  He was right—the city reeked. Lack of a working sewer system would do that. Still, there was a smoky odor that was separate from the stench. It smelled pretty good, if you could get past the other, less savory stink. “It sort of smells like barbeque, and it’s been a while since lunch. My stomach’s growling.”

  He nodded. “Mine too, but man, I can’t smell anything but the tangy aroma of shit. Can you really smell barbeque?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I can. My family vacationed in Hawaii last summer, and we went to a traditional luau. They roasted a whole pig in a pit filled with hot coals. That’s sort of what this smells like.” I didn’t add that the pig roast had been the best thing about the trip. My dad spent the entire week on the phone screaming at his associates while my mother drank too many coconut rum drinks and spent most of her waking hours in bed with a hangover.

  “Well, how about we follow your nose and see if we can score some food?”

  “Do I look like a bloodhound to you?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who said he smells barbeque.”

  I shook my head and smiled. After I took a couple of whiffs of the air, I pointed in the general direction we’d already been traveling. I really had no idea if it was where the smoky odor was coming from or not, but we needed to go in that direction anyway. If we found the source of the smoke and could grab some food, well, then all well and good. If not, we’d still be at the church and could go about the business of finding the Malleus Maleficarum. “Fine. I think it’s coming from this way.”

  Ash followed me through the streets like a hungry puppy. We threaded our way up and over through narrow roads, always heading toward the center of town. As we drew closer, we began to notice shops and businesses mixed in between the houses. There was more activity here, more people.

  One thing I noticed was the closer we got to the church, the better dressed the people were. Fabrics were richer and brighter in color. They weren’t worn and patched like the clothing the Bauer family wore. Men wore tight-fitting hose under long, full tunics, and tall boots. More often than not, their hats had feathers in them.

  Women’s dresses were embroidered with bright-colored thread. They wore voluminous capes with wide sleeves. Hoods or heart-shaped hats covered their heads.

  Even the children were well dressed. They more often than not wore miniature versions of their parents’ clothing, complete with hats and boots. The clothes didn’t look even slightly comfortable.

  The street we were on opened into a large square. Across the way loomed the church I’d spied from the bridge.

  I noticed we were beginning to draw glances from the people we passed. Our clothing was setting us apart, sending up red flags to the wealthier citizens of Trier. One look told these people we didn’t belong here. We were dressed like peasant farmers who had no business rubbing elbows with their betters.

  “We need to get to the church, Ash. These people are starting to notice us, and that’s bad. If they start asking questions—”

  “What is that?” Ash was staring ahead, at the square. His voice sounded funny, tight, and there was a tremor in it. “Grant? What is that?”

  I followed his line of sight. To one side of the square was a set of tall wooden stakes set more or less in a straight line. Smoke still rose from embers at the base of the stakes, but I knew that wasn’t what had Ash spooked.

  What put the quiver in his voice were the still-smoking, blackened, misshapen lumps tied to them.

  The lumps were people.

  “Grant? I think I want to go home, now.”

  Ash’s face had gone gray, and his entire body was trembling. I knew I had to get him away before he lost all control of himself. The sight of the burned bodies didn’t seem to faze the people around us, but it was freaking Ash out. Truth be told, it was freaking me out too.

  Any feeling of hunger I had was swiftly replaced by roiling nausea. The smoke no longer reminded me of the barbeque I remembered from Hawaii. It was a heavy, greasy, fatty smell that made me want to throw up, and I was sure it was affecting Ash the same way.

  I dragged Ash away from the square and around a corner, then down a narrow alley running between two rows of shops. I welcomed the reek of fish and sewage that finally overpowered the smell of roasting flesh.

  Ash was shaking visibly when I pulled him into a darkened space between two buildings. It wa
s only an alleyway, barely wide enough for the two of us, but it was dark and out of the line of sight of anyone who might be passing by.

  “Deep breaths, Ash. You’ve got to calm down.”

  “I can’t! I keep smelling… them.”

  “Try! Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.”

  Together we regulated our breathing until neither of us was in danger of hyperventilating, but it didn’t really help the terror and revulsion we felt. There was nothing I needed more at that moment than contact with someone, and I thought Ash did too. He didn’t resist when I pulled him into my arms. “Shh. It’s okay, Ash.”

  “Those were people, Grant. Tied to those stakes. People!”

  “I know, I know. I saw.”

  “God, they were burned, Grant. Were they alive when…?” His voice trailed off as if unable to finish the awful thought.

  I tightened my arms around him, trying to calm his tremors. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s over, though. They’re gone. Nobody’s hurting anymore. It’s over.”

  Holding him and speaking softly finally worked. He calmed down and leaned against me. He slipped his arms around my waist and returned my embrace. “That wasn’t what you see in the movies.”

  “Real life usually isn’t.”

  “I hear that.” He laid his cheek on my shoulder. “I don’t think I can do this, Grant. I can’t go back there.”

  “We have to, Ash. We don’t have a choice. Getting the book is the only way we can go home, and it’s probably in the church.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe the sheriff has it. Or the baron guy Wilhelm was talking about.”

  That was an idea we hadn’t had before, but now that I thought about it, it sort of made sense. “The rich guy, huh? It’s possible. Weren’t printed books supposed to be a luxury only the superrich could afford?”

  “Actually, I think I remember Merlin mentioned the printing press made books more affordable, but I still doubt people like the Bauers could afford them.”

  “Then maybe we can start there.” I gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  When he looked up at me, his smile was strained, but it was there. He was still visibly scared, though. I was too, and all I wanted to do in that moment was kiss him and take him home. I couldn’t do anything about the latter, but there was nothing stopping me from doing the former. I ran my thumb over the side of his face and leaned in, pressing my lips to his.

  He kissed me back, and for a while I don’t think either of us thought about the time we were in, or the city, or the sight of the burned bodies in the square. All that mattered was him and me and a long, warm kiss in a narrow alley.

  Kisses can’t last forever. We broke apart, and I felt a little embarrassed. Not sorry, though. Kissing him had felt too good, and I wasn’t sorry at all that we’d done it. Still, I suddenly wasn’t sure what to say about it, so I decided to act as if it hadn’t happened. I cleared my throat. “So, first thing we’re going to need are new clothes.”

  Ash blinked at me. Evidently he decided to ignore the kiss as well. “What? Why? What’s wrong with these?” He raised his arm and sniffed at his armpit. “They’re barely even dirty.”

  I chuckled. “You only say that because everything here smells so much worse than we do, but I guarantee you we could both use a shower. Besides, what I mean is we’re dressed like farmers. We need to blend in with the richer folks in town, especially if we’re going to nose around in a baron’s house. We can’t afford to stick out.”

  “Ah. Okay. So, where do you suppose we get our hands on these fabulous duds? Ye Olde Neighborhood Walmart?”

  “Smartass. No, we’re going to have to shop locally.”

  “And how are we going to buy them? Have you forgotten Merlin dropped us here without one red cent between us?”

  “We don’t need money.” I waggled my hand in front of his face. “We have a five-finger discount.”

  “Brilliant plan except for one teeny, tiny detail. I don’t think they had ready-to-wear in 1500s Germany.”

  I felt as if someone pulled a plug somewhere on my body and let all the air out. I actually sagged against the wall of the building. “You’re right. Clothes were made by hand. We could steal fabric, but I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to making stuff. I can’t sew worth a damn.”

  “Me either. I’ve never even threaded a needle. So, unless there’s a medieval version of a hot glue gun someplace, making our own clothes is out.”

  I looked up at the narrow patch of sky visible between the two buildings, trying to come up with a solution. It seemed impossible.

  “So, maybe we borrow some.”

  I blinked and looked at Ash. “What?”

  He shrugged and offered me a lopsided grin. “We borrow some. I mean, somebody has to be doing laundry here, right? Clothes do get washed now and then? They didn’t have washing machines and dryers. Maybe they hung the clothes on a line outside to dry.”

  “Maybe. It’s worth a shot, I guess. Unless they hung the clothes inside next to the fireplace.”

  “Shit. You’re a killjoy, you know that? I have one great idea and you come along and blow it to smithereens.”

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just pointing out possible flaws in your logic.”

  “You’re such an ass!”

  “There you go talking about my butt again.”

  He was so cute when he got frustrated. When he spun on his heel and stalked out of the alley, I followed with an amused grin I just couldn’t hide painted on my face.

  Chapter Six

  ASH AND I stuck to the narrow streets in the residential areas, where there was far less foot traffic than where the merchants plied their wares. Eventually, after walking several blocks, we spied a woman carrying a wicker basket full of clothes and followed her.

  She led us to a wide field of grass between the last row of buildings and the wall surrounding the city. The grass was cut short, and bushes grew all along the wall. It would’ve looked like a park except for the clothing laid out on the ground and hung over the bushes.

  There was a huge wooden tub the size of a modern hot tub to one side, where several women gathered. They were scrubbing clothing on boards, and even from this distance I could see their arms were reddened either by the temperature of the water or the strength of the lye soap they used.

  In another area, someone had erected a wooden frame. A woman had a cape draped over it and was beating the fabric with a long, thin stick.

  One thing I noticed immediately was the lack of males in the area. There were none, except for a few toddlers. This was evidently not somewhere men would go. I realized that while our peasant clothing would blend in here since the washerwomen were dressed similarly to Irmla, our presence would send up red flags to every woman on the field simply because we weren’t female.

  I pulled Ash back and whispered to him, explaining our dilemma. “We need another plan. We can’t just waltz out there.”

  He frowned and swore under his breath. “So what do we do? The only clothing close enough to snatch without walking out on the field are dresses.” Then his expression suddenly brightened. “That’s it! Wait here a minute.”

  Before I could argue, he hurried toward the edge of the field. There was a dark green dress lying on the grass very close the edge of the last building in the row, along with a few other odd pieces of fabric. I watched Ash peek around the corner, then snake his arm out and grab the items. He hurried back, carrying his prizes.

  “Look! It’s nearly dry too. It’s perfect.”

  “Perfect for what? Prom?”

  “Ass. No, perfect for you. Here, put it on.”

  I gaped at him. “Are you insane? No. I’m not putting on a dress.”

  He sighed as if I was as thick as mud and twice as stupid. “You put it on and go grab us some clothes. Nobody will notice another woman walking out on the field. I even got you a cape to go with it.”

  “Why can’t you wear it?”

  “Becau
se I already risked life and limb borrowing the stuff.”

  I huffed and glowered at him. “You stuck an arm out and grabbed the first thing you could reach.”

  “Yeah, well I still thought of it and got the stuff. It’s your turn. Come on, Grant. Put it on. It’s only fair.”

  “Dammit.” I grabbed the dress from his hands and fought with the yards of fabric, struggling to get it over my head. I felt like a kid wrapped up in a bedspread.

  “Aw, it’s a perfect color for you.”

  “You’re about a minute away from getting slugged in the face.” It was hard sounding tough when you were standing there wearing a green circus tent, but I think I managed.

  Ash chuckled. “Okay, okay. Here, I think this wraps around your waist.” He handed me one of the pouches I’d seen men and women alike wearing.

  I tied it around my waist and then grabbed the cape he held and threw it over my shoulders. The cape had a hood, which I pulled over my head. It hid all my hair and most of my face.

  “There. You look great. Now, all you need to do is go out there and nonchalantly grab some clothes for us.”

  “Nonchalantly, huh? Right.” I gritted my teeth and turned toward the field. “If I get caught, I’m so throwing you under the bus.”

  “You’re not going to get caught. Stay near the edge of the field. There are plenty of clothes drying all over the place. Snatch what you can and get out of there.”

  “You owe me big-time for this, Ash.”

  “Sure I do, Broomhilda. Go on. Hurry up before somebody comes along and sees us here.”

  I made a mental note to put poison ivy in his underwear drawer or ex-lax in his chocolate milk when we got home. Then I stepped cautiously onto the field.

  And no one batted an eye.

  The washerwomen were busy chatting and laughing among themselves, beating and scrubbing clothing, or dragging piles of heavy, wet fabric to the grass and spreading it out to dry. They evidently had enough work to do without having to worry about a slightly odd woman wearing mismatched clothing who wandered onto the laundry field.