Storiesonline.net
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                            Pelle the Collier
                                by Argon

Copyright© 2012 by Argon


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Description: This is the story of Pelle the Collier; how he saved Birkenhain lands and avenged his father and his liege lord. It is also the story of Ingeburg, the late Baron's beautiful bastard daughter, who was banned from the castle as a small girl. 14th century fiction!

Codes: MF FF cons rom hist cuckold 1st preg
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Foreword and Glossary

This is the story of Pelle the Collier; how he saved Birkenhain lands and avenged his father and his liege lord. It is also the story of Ingeburg, the late Baron's beautiful bastard daughter, who was banned from the castle as a small girl. The story takes place in the thirteenth century in the lands to the east of the River Rhine, in a small feudal domain ruled by the local baron. The names of the characters as listed below will seem strange to you, yet those were the names of men and womenfolk of that time. The events of the time, the crusades and the frightening appearance of the bubonic plague in Europe play important roles as do the tensions between Gentiles and Jews. Please mind that I dreamt up a story in a historic context, but as I am woefully aware, my knowledge of those times is far from complete. Please be kind if I err on some fact of which you, the reader, may be an expert!

I also wrote "Bente the Collier". Both stories germinated at the same time, but "Pelle" took much longer writing. They are not interrelated, nor are their characters.

The chapters, 26 in total, will be posted sequentially and thrice weekly. The story is written to completion. Small corrections can be introduced but I will not change the plot or the characters to fit the fetishes of readers. If you have a better plot idea, go write your own story!

Lastly, this story was written for posting at SOL. I do not agree to any reposting or other forms of unauthorised distribution. Be kind and respect my copyright!

The characters in alphabetical order

AlkeMargrite's mother, Helge's wifeAnnaHunold's sisterAvrahamspice merchant of BirkenhainBartela Lemdalen village youthBerolate caretaker for Tosdalen Abbey, Pelle's fatherBertaBreno's wifeBertolfLemdalen farmer, Luise's fatherBirteRudlo's daughter, Pelle and Ingeburg's housekeeperBrenoLemdalen village elderEnewalta collierErmegartBaroness of Birkenhain, mother of SigfridErmegartPelle and Ingeburg's firstborn daughterFriderichlate Baron of BirkenhainGebhardtcorporal of the Birkenhain guardsGretaIngeburg's mother, married to HunoldHankeHunold's oldest sonHedwigwife of Rudlo the SmithHelgeLemdalen farmer, father of MargriteHunoldIngeburg's stepfatherIngeburgHunold's stepdaughter, bastard daughter of the late Baron, our heroineLevymoney lender in BirkenhainLieselotteBaroness of Birkenhain, daughter of Rudolf, Count of RennenbergLuisea peasant girl, girlfriend of IngeburgMargritea peasant girl, girlfriend of IngeburgMarjaorphan, Pelle's housekeeper and Matthias' sisterMarkwardreeve of LemdalenMatthiasorphan, Pelle's apprentice and Marja's brotherNelewife of Enewald, widow of Arno, Pelle's motherNeidhardthe Baron Sigfrid's overseer of the landsNitharta Lemdalen village youthOrtolfthe hunchback, Bartel's fatherOrtwinuspriest of LemdalenOswaldchamberlain of Birkenhain castlePellea young collier who works his trade in Lemdalen Forest – our heroRebeccaLevy's daughter, herbalist and apothecaryRudlosmith in Lemdalen, Pelle's friendRudolfCount of Rennenberg, Lieselotte's fatherRulantpublican of LemdalenSigfridBaron of Birkenhain, half-brother of IngeburgTilkemaster smith at the Birkenhain forgeTjarkyounger son of Hunold, friend of PelleTymoblacksmith in Lemdalen, Pelle's friend



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Prologue


How The Collier Enewalt Finds A Wife And the Shrew Greta Is Banned From The Baron's Castle

The man was bent under the heavy load of wood on his back, and he had to be careful not to get stuck under low branches as he made his way out from between the fallen trees and into the clearing. Enewalt was a collier, and he was collecting wood from a windfall.

A year ago, a heavy thunderstorm with gale force gusts had torn a swath through the forest, uprooting trees and littering the forest floor with branches and twigs for over a mile. For Enewalt this was literally a windfall which provided him with vast quantities of deadwood. He was building a kiln from the torn limbs. With so much wood readily available he was building his woodpile bigger than ever.

He had decided that this load would be the last. The pile was already more than twice his own height and a dozen paces across. Carefully he filled the last gaps in the intricate pattern of branches and twigs that held together the pile and kept the central flue open.

For the rest of the day, Enewalt used a wooden spade to cut sods from a nearby meadow. He slept rolled into his blanket under a makeshift lean-to as was his custom. Over the next days he covered the kiln with grass sod and clay. Once that was finished he fired the pile from the centre, near the flue, to start the charring process. For eight days, he kept a vigil at the pile, regulating the air intake with wooden stops and testing the temperature of the sod cover frequently. Once the sod became hot to the touch he stopped the air ducts with logs to suffocate the fire.

For another week he let his pile cool down and then, a full two months after he started the work, he broke the cover open. A warm rush flowed over him the moment he opened the pile. The charcoal was perfect: black and feather light all through the pile. The Baron's smiths at the forge in Birkenhain Town would be satisfied with the quality, and Enewalt could expect a good sized bag of coins for his product.

The young smith in Lemdalen, the village closest to the forest, would also buy a load of coal, adding to Enewalt's earnings. Good charcoal was all-important for the smeltering of iron ore, for turning the rusty-red stones into dark grey wrought iron. The smith operated a small bloomery where he produced the wrought iron that was made into steel by the Baron's forge. Enewalt did not understand how this was done and he did not care. It was enough for him that they would give him a Groschen for each two bushels of charcoal he delivered.

Enewalt looked around. He had cleared only a tiny part of the windfall and more fallen trees were there for him to char. This storm clearing would give him work for four or perhaps even five or six years. A small brook ran through the clearing and Lemdalen was only an hour's walk to the East. For the first time in his thirty years of life, Enewalt contemplated settling down. The clearing would provide him with material for the building of a log cabin, the brook had sizeable clay deposits, and a rock wall, some hundred paces to the West, had a pile of stones at its foot. Again, Enewalt nodded with satisfaction.

It took Enewalt four weeks to transport the coal to his customers. He started with his pannier which only held four bushels at a time, making the trip to Lemdalen three times a day for almost a week. With these first earnings Enewalt was able to buy a donkey and a sturdy cart, and now he was seen almost daily on the trail to Birkenhain, bringing cart after cart of coal to the forge. At the end of the month, Enewalt held a large bag of Groschen in his hands, so many that they by far exceeded the counting words he knew.

With the harvest around Lemdalen done, Enewalt had no problems to hire four farm lads willing to help with the building of a log cabin. On a foundation of large stones which insulated the cabin from the moisture of the ground, they built a frame of larch wood. The space between the beams was filled with a masonry of stones and clay. The inside was finished with cut straw and clay and on the outside, the wooden beams were impregnated with linseed oil and turpentine. The roof was shingled and the shingles weighted down with rocks for stability.

It was a good cabin as everybody conceded, and by midwinter Enewalt moved in. He worked during the short winter days building another kiln, but in the evenings he sat by his fire place and at night he lay on his cot, away from rain and wind. Enewalt the Collier had found a home at last.

With spring approaching and his new kiln nearing completion, Enewalt visited the village to trade for some grain and a bacon. He cleaned up as was his custom, for he was not allowed in the tavern wearing his sooty work clothes. The tavern was one of the main attractions for him, not so much for the ale but for the three wenches whom the landlord kept. A visit to the tavern and a romp with one of the whores always gave him fodder for many nights of naughty dreams.

After completing his trading, Enewalt tied his donkey to a post in front of the tavern and entered the low dwelling. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness within. To his surprise, a new woman had joined the three whores. She was tall and seemed strong, and she looked not like the other wenches but rather like a decent woman. Eagerly, Enewalt signalled her to come to his table and she approached reluctantly.

"New here, eh?" he asked. "Wot's yer name?"

"Nele," she answered in a low voice.

There was nothing of the false cheerfulness of the other wenches on her. She hated being there, she hated waiting on Enewalt, and she hated herself Enewalt could feel.

"Where you hail from? Can't say I've ever seen you," Enewalt asked friendly.

She was not ugly and he wanted to bed her even if she hated it. Or because of that.

"I'm from Tosdalen. This is my first day here."

Tosdalen was a village to the East that was owned by Tosdalen Abbey, a rich monastery.

"Why would you leave there and come to this stink hole?" Enewalt wondered aloud.

"They burnt my husband at the stake for heresy and made us leave," she explained, the pain in her voice evident.

Enewalt looked around. Making sure he could not be overheard, he answered.

"That's the trouble with living on church lands: you have to hold your tongue. You have family?"

"A son. He's ten and growing. I can't find food for him unless I ... work here."

Enewalt never knew where he found the courage but he blurted out his offer.

"I'm but a lowly collier and plying my trade in the forest, but I have a good, sturdy cabin. I've no wife yet and no son to teach my craft. You have need of a husband to support you, and your son needs a trade to learn. What do you say, Nele? Will you join with me? I'll treat you right nice an' you'll be a decent woman again."

The woman stared at him for many breaths. There was a mixture of hope and distrust in her eyes.

"Only if you'll wed me," she answered firmly.

Suddenly overwhelmed by his own audacity, Enewalt stuttered. "B-but o-of course! Yes! I-I want a w-wife!" he declared excitedly, giddy with the prospect of finding a woman, a good looking one at that, who was willing to share his lowly life.

"Then, I accept," she stated simply.

Thus, on the very next Sunday, a priest from Tosdalen Abbey conducted the wedding of Enewalt the Collier with Nele, widow of Bero. After a brief celebration in the tavern, Enewalt loaded his new wife and her son, a lad named Pelle, onto his donkey cart and drove them to his home in the middle of the Baron's forest.

They settled there and Nele took over the household while her son, Pelle, helped his new father finish the huge kiln. In the evening, when the exhausted boy fell asleep, Enewalt mounted his new wife. Enewalt had lain with many different women, tavern wenches mostly, and a few of them had taught the Collier a thing or two about women. Thus, his wife Nele soon found that wifely duties with Enewalt were rather a pleasure, and in the weeks and months to come she became very diligent in performing those duties. Enewalt was a very happy man, indeed.

The lad Pelle also turned out to be a catch for the Collier. Tall for his age, he soon became a good helper for the Collier, giving Enewalt more time in between the firing of kilns to set his snares for small forest animals and to attend to his wife.

The only fly in his ointment was that he was never able to sire a child with Nele. Since she had born a child already Enewalt had to accept that he was most likely the lacking part. In consequence he began to focus his attention on Pelle and accepted the lad as his son for all purposes.

The happiness in the Collier's cabin lasted for almost eight years. Enewalt prospered, his wife took good care of him, and he had a son who grew into the trade and could be trusted to work on his own. Then, fate struck. Nele cut her finger while working the small vegetable garden, and after a few days, the wound began to fester, and she had pain along her arm which showed a red streak. The pain grew and she developed a terrible fever.

Enewalt sent Pelle to the town, to get Sarah, Levy's wife. The Jewess was an adept healer, but when she arrived at the Collier's cabin it was too late. Nele was too far gone. The blood poisoning had reached her heart and she died the following night.

Both men were deeply distraught by her death, but while Pelle slowly recovered, Enewalt never did. He would barely eat, he could not work, he just sat beside Nele's grave mumbling under his breath and crying silently into his unkempt beard.

Just once, Enewalt gathered his strength, when he took Pelle to Birkenhain town. There he introduced him to the Jew Levy, the money lender. To his astonishment, young Pelle learned that Enewalt was lending money through Levy. Enewalt asked his unlikely partner and friend to look after Pelle's interest.

Levy seemed to take an immediate liking to the young man and he promised to be a fatherly friend to him. While the two older men were talking some more, Pelle met Levy's daughter, a shy girl of thirteen years named Rebecca. She was learning the healing arts from her mother Sarah and she asked him about his life in the forest.

Next, Enewalt took his stepson to the Baron's forge. Pelle was known there, having helped Enewalt deliver charcoal untold times. This time, however, Enewalt let the forge master know that henceforth Pelle would do the deliveries since he, Enewalt, felt his health declining. After that visit they returned to their cabin and Enewalt fell into apathy again.

Five moons after Nele's death, Pelle came in from the forest and found his stepfather lying over the the love of his life's grave. Enewalt's broken heart had stopped beating. The young man, now almost nineteen years old, shouldered the burden of burying the Collier side by side with his mother, and for all purposes he took over the trade of his stepfather. Within a year, he was known as Pelle the Collier to everybody.

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At around the same time when Enewalt took in Nele and her son Pelle, a very angry young nobleman confronted his father. Sigfrid, son and sole heir of the Baron Friderich of Birkenhain, had returned to his father's lands after serving the Hole Roman Emperor in his war against the French king for the last five years. He had returned to find his mother, the Baroness Ermegart, banished from the castle and living in a house in the lower town while his father frolicked about the castle with his presumptuous, scheming paramour, Greta.

"My Father, how can you put the interest of that woman over that of your own wedded wife?" he challenged the Baron.

"Well, you have to see that your mother was quite uncomfortable. Greta suggested she would feel better if she lived away from us."

"Greta! Are you a slave to that ... woman?"

"Now wait, Son! Nobody, not you nor any other man, speaks to me like that in my own hall. I am the lord of these lands!"

"You are lord of these lands and it is for you to decide who you will have in your bed. Know, however, that I shall not share bread and salt with the woman who shamed my mother and usurped her rightful place. I served the emperor well, and I shall ask him for liege-lands of my own."

"What do you mean by that? You are my son and heir. You want to forsake title and land over your petty grudge?"

"And you, Father, you want to lose your son over that scheming woman? It is your choice."

"But what can I do? She has born me a daughter. I cannot abandon her now."

"Marry her to some wealthy freeholder away from Birkenhain. Offer the groom some land in return for raising your bastard daughter. She's not the first you sired, after all."

"And you will stay if I send her away?"

"I will and what rewards the Emperor may bestow on me will benefit our lands."

The Baron made a show of sighing deeply. Inwardly, he chuckled. He was getting tired of Greta anyway. She was developing into a right shrew. Now he could put the blame on his son and get rid of her. He might even get to lie with her from time to time if he picked a right docile husband for her.

"So be it then," he said with fake sadness.

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A week later, Greta, Elbart's daughter, sat on a wagon with her daughter and with what few worldly possessions she was allowed to take. Little Ingeburg, just four years old, looked around happily, excited over the new sights as the wagon made its way to the village of Lemdalen. Once there, Greta would be wed to the farmer Hunold, a widower and the wealthiest freeholder in Lemdalen.

Greta was steaming. The old fart of a Baron had indeed sent her away to be married to some village simpleton, after years of promising her his troth and even a morganatic marriage. Her mother, the widow of a Birkenhain grain trader, had raised her with the aim of winning the heart of a man of consequence, and the comely lass had indeed caught the fancy of a man in the baron's service. This was how the Baron Friderich had first seen her, an older man already, but randy as they came. Without any scruples he courted the pretty girl. In little time and lured by his promises, she became his latest concubine. She had established herself well in the old man's favour, had even born him a daughter, but then the baron's son had returned, a hero of the minstrel songs, and he had forced the old baron to take back his wife Ermegart and toss her, Greta, out.

They arrived at Lemdalen and the baron's almoner drove the wagon to a large house that was facing the village square. It was indeed the largest dwelling in the village, but to Greta that meant nothing. A stout man emerged from the house followed by two boys. They were both older than little Ingeburg.

"Freeholder Hunold," the almoner spoke, "this is Greta, Elbart's daughter, who our Lord Friderich sends to you as your bride. You will raise the girl Ingeburg as your own, and the Lord Friderich will pay you fifty silver Groschen every year for her upkeep.

Greta looked at the man with barely concealed contempt. He looked back at her with an expectant grin, the imbecile. No doubt he was seeing her in his bed already.

"I greet you, Greta. I am Hunold, your groom, and these are my sons Hanke and Tjark. The priest from Tosdalen will come after the noon meal."

Greta shrugged. Whatever! She looked around expectantly. "Where is my magd (maidservant)?"

To Greta's anger, Hunold broke out in a snorting laugh.

"There's no magd for you. My sister is in charge of my household, and the mægde work the stables. Get off that wagon and bring your things inside!"

"Do you know who I am?" she demanded haughtily.

"Oh yes," he chuckled. "But in my house you'll work for your upkeep, just like everybody else. Now go in and dress nicely for the wedding. Don't make yourself a nuisance!"

With flashing eyes, Greta turned to the almoner. "Take me back to the castle! I'll not wed this lout!"

The almoner gave a short snort in response. "Get off the wagon, Greta, and mind your station when you address me! The Baron said to bring you here, and here you'll stay. Your days of ordering us around are over."

"B-but my daughter, she's the Baron's natural child!"

"Aye, like so many of them," the almoner laughed. "He found you a husband and pays good silver to him for raising your bastard daughter. Be grateful that he did not pass you on to the guards."

Dumbfounded, Greta stepped off the wagon. The younger of the boys, Tjark, helped Ingeburg down, and then the almoner threw Greta's bags and her chest on the ground and drove off. She stood there shaking her head. This could not be! She would not accept this. One day she and her daughter would reclaim their rightful place in the castle!



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Chapter 1: How Pelle the Collier Gets Free Ale



Pelle, the collier of Lemdalen, stopped the donkey cart in front of the bloomery.

"Hello, Pelle!" the smith's wife greeted him friendly.

Rudlo the Smith was one of the oldest customers of the collier; the relationship even predated Pelle's apprenticeship with his stepfather. Hedwig, the Smith's wife, always made sure to welcome him, and oftentimes she would offer him to join the family for the noon meal.

"Greetings, Hedwig! I have the two dozen bushel Rudlo wanted. You want I fill them into your bunker?"

Hedwig smiled gratefully. The young collier always did that so nobody else would end up covered in coal dust. In that he was far more considerate than his stepfather had been.

"Yes, please. Will you join us for the meal afterwards? We're having pea soup."

"Love to!" the young man laughed.

He was always hungry as Hedwig knew. Not because he was so poor he could not afford food, but because he lived alone in the forest and he was always too busy with his trade and working so hard.

"Remember to wash up before you come in!" Hedwig mocked him, knowing full well that Pelle always washed off the coal dust before he sat at their table. His mother, poor Nele, had raised him well.

When the noon bell sounded from the half finished bell tower in the village, the Smith and his family and helpers assembled around the large table. He had two sons of fifteen and twelve years, and a daughter of ten. Of course, the sons were already learning the craft and helping their father while the daughter helped Hedwig in the kitchen. Little Lisa was probably the only girl in the village who did not fear "the Black Man" as the collier was oftentimes called.

Pelle was always welcome in their house even though Rudlo was one of the most respected villagers. Perhaps it was because he himself was often covered in soot from his work, but perhaps it was also because the good quality of the coal which Pelle delivered. Rudlo held that it was partly responsible for the high quality wrought iron that he could produce in his bloomery.

Other villagers did not hold Pelle in such high regard. His birth father had been burnt at the stake as a heretic forcing his mother to work in the tavern, if only for a day. Most importantly, however, Pelle was a collier. He was the "Black Man" whose mentioning by the mothers scared children into obedience. He lived alone in the forest away from the eyes of the villagers, and only the Good Lord knew what and who ended up being charred in his piles. The Baron's reeve also held that he was a poacher too, killing more than his allotment, but then again, the reeve Markward had no say over the forest

Pelle knew of those rumours. It was bitter for him to be an outcast. Only Rudlo and the other smith, Tymo, would talk to him. Fortunately, things were better around Birkenhain castle where he delivered the bulk of his product. The men at the forge and even some of the Jewish traders treated him with the respect due to somebody who mastered a difficult craft. It was for this reason that he held no prejudice against the Jews in general while many other villagers and townspeople harboured a deep sitting distrust against them that was fostered in no small part by the preachings from Tosdalen Abbey.

Perhaps the fathers in Lemdalen would have encouraged their daughters to see the Collier on friendly terms if they had known about the leather bag filled with silver Groschen that was buried safely under the floor boards of his cabin. It might have changed their view had they known that the baron himself held a protective hand over the colliers. The Baron Sigfrid held a lively interest in his forge which produced good quality knives, tools and weapons. The trade with these goods was a main source of income for the Baron. The ore miners and the colliers were thus treated with favour in his lands. He did not charge the latter overly much for the use of his forests, and he even allowed each of them to hunt six deer every year.

It would not have helped Pelle had the villagers known that he was a silent partner in a money lending business. The Jew Levy was an important man for all the trading in Birkenhain with his connections to other money lenders far and wide, but like all money lenders he was disdained by his clients. Thus, Pelle wisely kept his partnership in Levy's business a secret, as did most of the people who enjoyed the interest Levy paid them for their gold. It was Levy who held the bulk of Pelle's savings, against a healthy interest paid, of course.

The collier also supervised the drivers whenever the Baron invited other nobles to a hunt in Lemdalen Forest. That was profitable for Pelle, for the nobles took only the choice meats from the animals they hunted, and a good part of the meat was left for Pelle and the other drivers. This was not counted against the six roe deer he was allowed to hunt every year. Moreover, many noble hunters could not be bothered to recover their arrows, and thus Pelle's quiver was well filled with perfectly straight, iron-tipped shafts.

"Did you hear the latest of Ingeburg?"

The question from Hedwig tore Pelle from his thoughts. Ingeburg was the daughter of Hunold, the richest freeholder in Lemdalen, and his wife Greta. The villagers called the girl 'the princess' in what was only partly jest. She was said to be the bastard child of the late baron. Her mother had certainly pampered the pretty girl from earliest childhood and groomed her to better herself someday, meaning to marry somebody above her peasant stand.

Pelle had seen her many times and she was so pretty that she made his heart ache. Of good height, she had a finely developed body with long legs. Her face under the braided blonde hair was that of an angel, with large, impossibly blue eyes and shaded by dark blonde lashes. Her fine nose and her kissable mouth were in the dreams of Lemdalen's men, and the younger men soiled their beddings at night thinking of those long legs and what lay between them.

Alas, her beauty and her rumoured noble pedigree had gone straight to her head, and at best she was aloof. On bad days, she was one of the worst shrews for miles around, second only to her mother Greta. For both of them Pelle was a target of ridicule and contempt, and he knew to keep his distance from them whenever he could.

"No, what did she do this time?" Pelle asked.

"She has been sparking with both Bartel and Nithart at the same time!" Hedwig said with a shake of her head. "The lads found out and fought. Bartel lost two front teeth and Nithart broke his hand. They say it may not heal well."

Pelle flinched. One boy toothless and the other possibly crippled, that was a bad outcome of Ingeburg's latest stupidity. He shook his head.

"Why would they even fight over her? Her mother will never allow either of them to court her precious daughter," he asked the table at large.

"So true," Rudlo agreed. "I spoke Hunold yesterday. He claims that her mother puts all that foolishness into her head, and he's afraid she'll go too far one day and be in trouble. He maintains she's not a bad girl but there's nothing he can do with her mother supporting her every whim."

"Did you know the Baron will be coming to dedicate the new church?" Hedwig changed the subject.

"No, but that is good news, isn't it?" Pelle smiled.

"Yes, we'll have a regular church fair to celebrate. The Baron will come with most of his household."

Pelle grinned mischievously. "That may be just the chance for Greta to find a husband for her daughter."

"You're right, Pelle," Rudlo laughed. "And once she's gone to Birkenhain, there'll be peace again in Lemdalen."

After the meal, Pelle made one more delivery to Tymo's smithy. He was the other smith in Lemdalen, and he was known for his well made pots and pans. Pelle was again covered in coal dust when he started out on his way home on his donkey cart. Halfway through the village he saw three girls standing idly and watching the comings and goings. Pelle knew what was coming when he recognised them.

"Oh look, it's the Collier," one of them exclaimed, loud enough for Pelle to hear, and in fact loud enough for half the village to hear. It was Ingeburg. He looked at her warily.

Her friend Margrite quickly chimed in. "How can you know? It could be anybody under all that dirt."

The girls tittered.

"He doesn't dare to wash. Without the dirt, people would recognise him as the whore Nele's son!" Luise, the third in the group, added her barbs. Luise was as pretty as Ingeburg, but she was a small redhead with a freckled face.

Each of the girls tried to outdo, out-insult the other. Of course, Ingeburg could not let any of her friends have the last word.

"I don't think it's dirt," she announced. "His skin is so black because he takes after his father who was burnt at the stake!"

She was the only one who laughed over her cruel jest; even her two companions were taken aback. For once, Pelle was grateful for the coal dust which covered his face, for it hid the deathly paleness he was sure to develop. That was not the first taunt under which he had suffered, but it was the worst by far. Try as he might, his enraged mind could not come up with an answer. Instead, he drove on, silently shaking his head.

The sound of powerful slaps sounded over the entire village square and Pelle turned. Hunold stood before his stepdaughter, red-faced with fury and hitting her left and right with his open palms.

"You evil girl! Is this how I raised you? To revel in people's suffering and pain? Into the house with you!"

Pelle blinked. The last command was accompanied by a deft kick into Ingeburg's much-admired behind and she practically flew over the door step. Hunold came running after Pelle.

"Pelle, Pelle, wait! I ask your forgiveness. I'm deeply ashamed over my daughter's words. This is not how I think about you and your poor father."

Seeing how distraught Hunold was mollified Pelle. He knew that Hunold himself had had run-ins with the church in the past, himself barely escaping charges of being a heretic. He took a deep breath.

"I don't fault you for her words, Hunold, nor are you at fault for her upbringing. I pity you: you have to live with her and her mother all the time."

A sigh escaped Hunold's mouth and he nodded sadly.

"Why you good-for-nothing peasant! Will you stand there and let this dirty lout insult your wife and daughter?" a shrill voice sounded from the house.

Pelle looked over and saw Greta, her arm around Ingeburg who was pouting and shedding fake tears. Finally Pelle had his fill. He stood tall on his cart.

"Shut your vile mouth, Greta!" he shouted. "It's you who made an insufferable shrew of your daughter. Yes, I pity your husband, for no man should suffer to have two such harpies in his home!"

The crowd of people who had listened to the altercation gaped at him, but he could see many a mouth twitching with mirth. Tjark, Hunold's second son, grinned openly. Tjark was one of the few age mates with whom Pelle consorted. The freeholder's son had always been intrigued by the free life in the forest, and together they had often poached small animals as youths. These days, Tjark helped Pelle when there was work to do that took more than one man. Pelle always gave his friend a fair pay for his help.

"Bravely spoken, Collier!" Rulant, the landlord of the tavern, shouted. "It's high time somebody gave her his mind! Do come in, Pelle, and you too, you men. A round of ale for all!"

It was unheard of for the landlord to give a free round and Pelle was helpless when the other men pulled him off his cart and into the tavern.

"Yes, go off into that cesspool of sin whence your whore of a mother came!" Greta shrieked after them.

"What do you know, Shrew?" Rulant shouted back angrily. "I knew Nele. Not once did she go with a man for silver. The first man she ever saw in my tavern was Enewalt, and he married her right the next Sunday. Mind your own past as the Baron's kept woman before you heap insults on an honest woman!"

The men pushed Pelle in and he could not understand Greta's shrieked response. The landlord followed and proceeded to tap the keg.

"Here, Collier, have this mug!"

He filled stein after stein of beer and handed them to the men in the guest room. In the end, when everyone held a mug of ale in his hand, he raised his own lidded stein.

"I drink to you, Collier! Your mother was a fine woman, says I, and I dare anybody to say different!"

Finally, Pelle found words. "She was a good mother to me and a good wife to Enewalt who treated me like a son. I pity Hunold, and I even pity Ingeburg. Either has no good wife while the other has no mother to teach her right from wrong."

"Hear ye! The Collier speaks wisdom. Mayhap, all the little snot needs is some serious boning to drive all the nonsense out of her!" a young fellow opined lewdly.

Pelle looked at him. "I wish you luck. I grant you she is looking pretty on the outside, but her inside is pure poison. Me, I like my girls to be friendly."

One of the whores sidled up to Pelle. "I am friendly, Collier. How about us?"

"But you're no girl," Tymo the Smith quipped.

In the cover of the laughter that followed, Pelle was able to extricate himself from her arms. He did not consort with the wenches at the tavern in Lemdalen. None of them appealed to him, old and worn out as they were.

"I have need to return to my work, Landlord," he said. "I thank you for your kind words and for your fresh ale."

When he stepped out of the tavern, he could still hear the shouting from inside Hunold's dwelling. Walking to his cart he was suddenly confronted by a woman who held a squirming girl in their grip. Luise's mother nudged her daughter roughly and the girl stood with her head bowed.

"I apologise for my words, Master Collier. It will not happen again," she said reluctantly.

Luise's pretty face was showing contrition but also the red marks of open hands on both cheeks.

Pelle swallowed. "If you really mean it I can forgive you."

"Thank you, Pelle," Luise answered in a sweet voice.

For a moment he wanted to believe the girl, but then he realised it would not matter. These people would never accept him. He turned and mounted his cart for the ride home.



-------

Chapter 2: How Pelle Admires the Fair Jewess Rebecca



Before Pelle went to bed that evening, he loaded his cart high with coal for the Baron's forge. That done, he filled his tub with water from the creek and with hot water from the kettle over his fireplace. He added soap shavings and soaked himself, his tunic, and his pants in the tepid, soapy water. It felt good to be rid of the dust again.

He had a supper of venison stew and mashed grains, left over from the day before, before he rolled into his blankets in the roomy cot built on the loft under the rafters of his cabin. In spite of being tired, he took some time falling asleep. Against his will, his thoughts always returned to Ingeburg. How could a girl as sweet looking as she have such a vile mouth? Why was it that she and her friends hated him so much? Much as he tried, he could not remember to have ever done wrong by them. In the end, he just accepted that nobody in Lemdalen cared for him except for his friends at the smithies.

As usual, he woke with the sunrise and after a quick meal of buttered rye bread he hitched his donkey to the cart and drove off towards Birkenhain town. A little after noon time, he reached the drawbridge that led through the city walls and into the town. The sentries knew him and he drove his cart through the wide Market Street and then to the left to where the Baron's armoury and forge stood.

Pelle loved to deliver at the forge because here the apprentices had to unload his wagon. They groaned when they saw the big load whilst the forge master, Tilke, grinned widely.

"That's good. You brought an extra large load today. We can use it. That fellow Orvan did not show last week. I sent for him. Imagine this: he is dead. From the looks of it, a wild boar got him. How much did you bring this time?"

"Forty-two bushels."

"That's â€" wait â€" twenty-one Groschen, right?"

Pelle smiled and nodded. The master smith counted off twenty-one silver Groschen,  and Pelle gave one to the apprentices, for luck and goodwill, as Enewalt had taught him. The lads even swept the cart bed with a broom and wet rags, to wash off the coal dust.

Leaving his cart at a stable, Pelle went to sell last winter's cured skins. He had quite a number of ermine pelts but also rabbit and hare skins to sell, and he received another twenty Groschen for them. The merchant always gave him good money for his pelts and skins.

He was walking past Levy's house when a young woman, barely older than a girl, stopped him. It was Rebecca, Levy's daughter.

"Hello, Pelle!" she greeted him.

"I greet you, Rebecca," Pelle smiled looking her over with undisguised appreciation. "You really favour your good mother."

She had grown into a comely lass. Her hair was not black, but of a rich shade of dark brown, and tied back into a braid with single locks framing her face. Her dark brown eyes were huge and lively, and the corners of her mouth pointed upwards in a friendly smile. It was hard to look at her and not feel good.

"My father told me that you came to town. I need some charcoal."

Pelle shook his head in regret. "I just delivered a load at the forge. 'Twill be a week at least before I come again. How much do you need?"

She smiled, and he could see perfect white teeth, like pearls on a twine. "Only a small bag, less than a pound. Ground up it helps against the trots," she added with a conspiratorial smile.

"You're really taking up the healing, like your mother?" Pelle asked smiling back.

"I learned most of her herb lore and but only a little of the healing arts," she explained modestly.

"Look, if you give me a bag I'll get some charcoal from the load I delivered to the forge."

"That's very kind of you, Master Pelle," the maid answered, rewarding him with a beautiful smile.

"I did it for your mother too," Pelle answered. Sarah had always asked Enewalt for charcoal for her potions.

From a drawer the girl retrieved a small cloth sack and handed it to Pelle. He quickly strode to the forge still thinking of the girl. She was lovely and nice, and it was a pity that he could not court her. No priest would marry a Christian man to a Jewess however lovely she was. Then he checked himself and grinned ruefully. Levy, her father, was a wealthy man. Even if Pelle had been of the same faith, Levy's daughter was as far out of Pelle's reach as was Ingeburg, Hunold's daughter.

She thanked him nicely enough when he returned with the small bag of selected coal pieces and gave him a small cup filled with a salve for wounds in exchange. Pelle often cut or stabbed himself when working with limbs and branches in the forest, and he would make good use of that salve.

It was a profitable afternoon. Pelle used two silver Groschen to buy peas, dried beans, and other preserved food for his use. He also found a brass oil lamp with a coil of wicker and two earthen bottles filled with lamp oil. He had all his purchased goods brought to the stable where he loaded his wagon for the return trip before he went into town for the evening.

Here, in the town under the castle, Pelle had had his first woman seven years ago. Enewalt had dragged him into a brothel, the Red Cockerel, and paid in advance before leaving him alone. On that evening, Pelle saw his first naked woman and for the first time experienced the delicious feel of a woman's sex around his member. It was not to be his last visit to the Red Cockerel. In the years to come, whenever he brought charcoal to the forge, he also spent a night in the brothel.

He became a well-liked visitor with the women and girls. In spite of his huge size and powerful body he was gentle and always eager to please them. He also paid honest money for their services and he never tried to stiff them. In return, the women allowed him more liberties than they did with most other patrons. Thus, at age twenty-three, Pelle the Collier knew more about women than most unmarried and even married men in his village.

He went straight for the Red Cockerel. They offered a good supper in the common room and Pelle preferred to eat supper with the girl he picked for a night. The girl, Elsa by name, was a new one. She was young and fresh, and she smiled and talked a lot. Pelle enjoyed her company.

She had come from Brunswick, the seat of the Duke, some fifty leagues to the west and she had many news. She told Pelle of the ill-fated last crusade. The first survivors were already returning from the Holy Land having accomplished nothing.

There was also this disturbing new plague, down south beyond the great mountains of the Alps. Wherever it hit, whole cities were turned into morgues. People woke up healthy in the morning only to drop dead by afternoon, or so Elsa retold what she had heard. The larger a city, the more devastating the plague ran its course. As a precaution the Duke had ordered the priests to hold masses and to pray to the Holy Mother for help against the pestilence.

When Pelle and Elsa went up to her room after supper, he found out that the girl from the big town knew a few tricks that had eluded him so far. At first Pelle was apprehensive when she bent down to take his member into her mouth. He was afraid she might bite him. It took a while for him to realise that she really meant well, and then his fear turned into raging lust. He had known whores who would relieve him with gentle hand play, but Elsa used her lips and tongue on him bringing him to an intense release. She even swallowed his spent semen to the last drop.

After that, he saw her grin at him in the dimly lit chamber and she pointed at her crotch. She smelt fresh down there and of scented soap, and Pelle did not hesitate to kiss her opening. The Red Cockerel had a bath house, and Pelle knew the wenches to frequent it regularly. That bathhouse had given Pelle the idea to have his own tub made by a cooper.

Elsa squealed with appreciation giving him a few pointers where to direct his lips and tongue and he enjoyed her obvious pleasure. Pelle always liked it better when the women he lay with had pleasure, and Elsa was by far the most receptive girl he had ever bedded.

After she had shaken through a strong release of her own, Elsa deftly gripped Pelle's member quickly stroking it back to hardness.

"Now let's see what you can do with that!" she said brightly.

Pelle complied happily and for quite a while Elsa's squeals and cries could be heard all through the Red Cockerel. After Pelle finally gave in to the sensations and spent a second load of his seed in Elsa's womb, the two young people fell asleep in each other's arms and never woke up before the next morning.

A very satisfied Pelle mounted his cart on the next morning for the return trip to Lemdalen Forest. For the first half he could use the highway that led from Birkenhain to Lemdalen, but then he took a narrow path to the north that had first been cleared for the wood cutters when the baron had new forge built seven years before. There was still some wood cutting going on, but it was Pelle's cart that mostly kept the path open.

Seeing that he was travelling with silver coins in his bag, he kept his longbow in easy reach and his long hunting knife was in a sheath dangling from his belt. One of his other friends, a corporal of the baron's guards named Gebhardt, had tought the tall collier how to wield a knife in a quarrel, and woe to the brigand who would try to rob him.

Nothing of the sort happened though. As all the people in Lemdalen thought, Pelle was not rich but barely eeking out a living. Such had been Enewalt's reputation and Pelle did not see fit to enlighten the villagers. Even those knowing of his dealings with the smiths were misled for he charged his friends a lower price for the charcoal, and nobody except for the master smith Tilke had a notion just how much coal Pelle produced and sold. Tjark, Hunold's son, might have known, but then again Tjark was not known as a gossiper and largely at odds with most of the village.

It was a little after noon when Pelle arrived in the clearing. He unhitched his brave little donkey and left it to graze around the cabin. The cart was upended and leant against the side of the cabin after Pelle had carried his purchases into the cabin.

The fire place was cold, but using flint stone and steel striker he quickly started the tinder. Once the fire was burning well, Pelle hung a pot filled half with presoaked grain over the flames. From a smoked deer leg he cut generous shavings which he added to the pot. Carrot roots from his small kitchen garden also landed in the pot, and Pelle let the meal simmer for some time whilst tidying up his cabin.

It was a sunny day prompting Pelle to bring his bedding out for airing. He loosened his straw mattress and let it sit in the sun. Thinking briefly, he hauled the spare mattress down as well letting it air out. He rarely had overnight visitors, but it could not hurt to keep the straw from getting mouldy.

Once the grain and carrots were boiled to softness, he ladled a generous helping into a bowl, cut off a slice of rye bread, and sat in the afternoon sun enjoying his meal and the comparative leisure of a Sunday. It would be really nice to share his fine cabin and his moderate wealth with a good wife he mused. Going to the Red Cockerel every two weeks was fine and dandy to still his hunger for the female body, but a wife could be more. He sometimes cought himself talking to the empty cabin, and he wished for some human companionship.

Yet, thinking about the obvious candidates in Lemdalen or Birkenhain, he could not come up with a single girl or woman with whom he felt comfortable. Young Elsa had been a good wench for a night in the Red Cockerel, but she was a town girl. Her hands and face were clean and smelt nice, and she would never be a colliers wife. Yet, the whore houses were the only places were a collier might find a woman desperate enough to follow him to the forest.

Pelle knew that from time to time, bands of fugitives travelled through the lands fleeing from one war or another. Often enough, there were widows and orphans among those, and Pelle always kept his ears open when in Birkenhain. A young widow or an older orphan girl might just be desperate enough too, and Pelle was determined to be a good husband to any woman he could find having had two good fathers for examples.

With an effort, he stopped the pointless dreaming and rose from his bench. Quickly the bowl was rinsed and the hearth fire banked, and then Pelle was off to the fringe of the forest. Here, where the deadwood of the forest and smaller trees were in abundance, he laid out the form for his next kiln. He would start early on the next morning by building the central flue.

Next he inspected the clay pit. The clay cover from the last kiln was already soaking and dissolving. Pelle re-used his clay to avoid long travels to natural deposits. He only needed a few bucket full of fresh clay for every new kiln, and he kept it all in a small wood-lined basin close to the creek. Using a hollow tree stem he could divert water from the creek into the basin to wash away the soot and other impurities from his clay. Enewalt had taught him the craft well enough, but Pelle had had a few ideas of his own that helped him reduce the work.

There was another idea fermenting in his brain that had been germinated by a story he had heard from a traveller in the Red Cockerel. That man had returned from the crusades and upon hearing of Pelle's craft he had told him of the kilns used in faraway lands. Those were permanent, domed structures built of masonry or bricks, with air vents and a carefully built flue that could be shut using iron doors.

Ever since hearing about it, Pelle had tried to envision how he would build a likeness of his own kilns in stone. They would have to be smaller. Nobody could build domes the size of his normal kilns. They could be filled faster, of course, but the firing would take almost as long. That meant that he would need three or four of them â€" one being filled, one being fired, one cooling down, and one being harvested, at any given time. Having masonry or brick kilns would also allow him to keep charring in rainy weather.

He sighed. Alone as he was, he could not hope to do the work. Then again, what if he hired a mason to do the building? He had the silver to pay a mason and his apprentice. There had to be one in Birkenhain. Pelle resolved to ask Tilke, the master of the forge. Their stacks were built from brick, and Tilke had to know who had done the building. It would be worth a small bag of silver to save himself the labourious kiln building.

He had a small supper of bread and light ale before he turned in for the night. He thought some more about the idea, and the more he considered it, the more he liked it. Yes, he would speak to Tilke.



-------

Chapter 3: How the Maid Ingeburg Is Given Lessons by Hunold



Ingeburg woke up and flinched in pain. Her backside hurt fiercely where Hunold had kicked her. She had never seen him in such insane rage, and for once he had enforced a punishment on Ingeburg. Her mother had defended her of course, but even she shrank away when Hunold told her in a cold voice to keep her mouth shut or take to the road with her spoiled daughter. Ingeburg still could not understand the reasons for her stepfather's seemingly blinding rage.

Her stomach growled for she had been sent to her chamber without supper. Ingeburg had never gone hungry in her life, and she felt miserable and utterly confused. She had tried to get support from her brothers, but Hanke did not like her anyway and even Tjark had turned his back on her. Ignoring her bruised behind she sat up and began to dress. Her instincts told her to dress modestly and she did that, wearing a simple homespun dress with an apron. She even put wooden shoes on her feet, eschewing the soft leather boots she liked so much. Thusly dressed, she climbed down the narrow stairs and went into the kitchen. Her aunt was busy preparing breakfast, and she looked up when Ingeburg entered. Her look was withering.

"What do you want?" she almost barked.

"I-I wanted to ask if I may help," Ingeburg answered timidly realising that whatever she had done was not forgiven yet.

Her aunt nodded. "Stir the oatmeal. Make sure it won't burn!" she ordered gruffly.

Obediently, Ingeburg took over whilst her aunt bustled around the kitchen.

"Aunt Anna?" Ingeburg finally asked.

"Yes, what do you want?"

"What is it that I did that was so terrible? I was only taunting the collier. Everybody does. He's a dirty, uncouth lout and nobody cares for him."

"Have you really no idea? Don't you see what you said, stupid girl?"

Ingeburg hunched her shoulders. "No," she squeaked.

"That cruel taunt, don't you see how that had to anger your father? When that no-good scoundrel Felkel accused him of witchcraft, they kept him in Tosdalen for nigh on a week. They nearly tore his limbs apart to make him confess and they burnt him with red-hot irons. For over a week we feared they would burn him at the stake. Think your skin would have turned black too, if your father was burnt?"

Ingeburg felt the blood rush to her face. She had been eight or nine years old then and she had not really understood anything. Now she saw why her words had enraged her stepfather and she felt a burning shame wash over her.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "Oh mercy, how he must hate me now!"

"Nobody hates you, stupid girl!" her aunt answered impatiently. "Take that pot and serve oatmeal to them. Then tell him you're sorry, and you better mean it too. Understood?"

"Yes, Aunt," Ingeburg answered meekly.

Using a rag, she took hold of the hot pot handle and hefted the heavy copper casserole. When she entered, she saw that the rest of the family sitting at the table. Her mother stood immediately.

"What are you doing, Ingeburg? I did not raise you to be somebody's magd!"

"Sit, woman!" Hunold barked angrily.

"I'm helping Aunt Anna," Ingeburg answered defensively. She turned to Hunold. "Do you want oatmeal, Father?"

Hunold looked at her for several heartbeats and she looked back pleadingly. Finally, he nodded. Using the wooden ladle, Ingeburg served him. Then she turned to her half brothers. Hanke grunted and held his bowl, and she ladled a generous helping of oatmeal into it. Tjark held his bowl to her without a word and she served him too. When she approached her mother, Greta shook her head stubbornly. Looking at her own bowl, Ingeburg asked Hunold.

"May I, Father?"

"Help yourself, Ingeburg," he answered and she filled her bowl.

She returned the pot to the kitchen before she approached the table again. She stood in front of Hunold and waited until he looked up.

"May I speak, Father?"

Hunold grunted his assent.

"I have spoken nasty words to the collier, Father, not knowing how much they would offend you. I have no memory of what you endured; I was too small then. I beg your forgiveness. I shall not remind you of your torments again. I promise you that."

Hunold weighed her words before he answered.

"It's not me you must ask for forgiveness. Pelle is an honest man by all accounts, a hard worker and held in high regard by those who buy his coal. You have been cruel to him taunting him with his poor father's death. The Sunday after next, at the Church Fair, you will seek him out and ask his forgiveness. Understood?"

Ingeburg nodded, her pretty face blushing intensely. This would come hard to her. She held the collier in little regard, and to beg his forgiveness in front of the entire village would be humiliating. Yet, Hunold left her no choice.

"I shall speak to him and I hope he will find it in his heart to accept my apology," she said through gritted teeth.

"This is going too far!" Greta blurted. "For her, the daughter of our noble baron, may he rest in peace, to apo..."

"Shut your mouth, Greta!" Hunold thundered. "Stop filling her head with nonsense. She is already hated by most of the village. She must learn to behave or we'll never find a good husband for her."

"And what husband can be found in this pigsty?" Greta huffed. "Bring her to Birkenhain! Only there will she find a proper man."

"Don't talk nonsense, Greta! The young baron hates you and he forbade you to enter the town. To the townspeople she is a peasant's daughter. The best she can do there is find work as a tavern wench."

"The baron must recognise her as his sister and he will," Greta answered stubbornly.

"Enough of this! I'll not have this any longer. Ingeburg, you will help your aunt in the kitchen from now on. It is time you learned how to cook and keep house."

Ingeburg liked her aunt and she knew that her aunt mostly liked her too. She found nothing wrong with the prospect of learning from her. Recently, she had found her mother increasingly scary with her obsession with the baron and his family. It might be good to be away from her, if only to avoid Hunold's wrath.

"Yes, Father," she therefore answered.

Ingeburg quickly emptied her bowl of oatmeal and returned to the kitchen.

Her aunt raised her eyebrows. "You want to learn how to keep house?"

Ingeburg just nodded with a shy smile.

"Well, then go and fetch some firewood. After that you'll clean out the ashes. When you're done with that, we'll scrub the bowls and pots. Go!"

Her tone was gruff but her eyes were winking at her. With a smile Ingeburg lifted her skirt and ran outside for the wood stack.

°°°

It was a week later and Hunold was loading his wagon with sacks of apples from the last fall. They were wrinkled and brown by now, but the Abbey's cellarer knew how to turn last year's fruit into delicious spirits. Hunold had done this before and he had received a keg of ale for his wagon load of sweet apples.

He was getting ready for the hour-long trip when his eyes regarded Ingeburg who was scrubbing a pot with water and sand. The girl had shown signs of betterment over the week and she was helping his sister willingly. On the spur of the moment, Hunold decided to give her another lesson.

"Ingeburg! Leave that! Put on good shoes and your cloak and come with me."

Ingeburg looked up surprised, but she nodded and disappeared in the house. Not many heartbeats later she returned, wearing leather shoes and a woollen cloak around her shoulder. She quickly climbed up on the seat beside Hunold who wordlessly started the horses. With creaking wheels and axles the wagon rumpled over the uneven surface of the path leading to Tosdalen.

"Please, Father, whereto are we going?" Ingeburg asked with obvious apprehension.

Hunold realised her fears. "Oh, don't worry! You'll return with me. We're going to Tosdalen Abbey to sell last year's apples."

"Oh," was all Ingeburg answered but he heard her relief.

"Listen, Child, you have behaved well the last week and I can see that you try your best. So says your aunt. Keep it like that and I'll never have to get angry with you again."

"I will, Father," she promised solemnly.

The rest of the trip was spent mostly in silence and when they arrived at the Abbey, Ingeburg kept sitting on the wagon whilst Hunold unloaded his apples. He received a keg of the famous Tosdalen Ale for the fruit and climbed up on the seat again. Instead of driving back home, however, he drove the wagon to a small field west of the Abbey's main gate. To her horror, Ingeburg saw the charred remnants of a man hanging by a blackened chain from an equally charred stake.

"That was the cooper Bert," Hunold said under his breath. "He delivered kegs to the Abbey, but he quarrelled with the overseer over the price. He became angry and said something about rather selling his kegs to the devil than agreeing to such a low price. He was charged as Satan's follower and burnt at the stake."

Ingeburg looked at her stepfather with horror in her eyes. "Just for a few words spoken in anger?" she whispered.

Hunold nodded grimly. "It doesn't take much to end up like this," he said with bitterness.

"Father, why are you showing me this?"

"Pelle's father, Bero, was caretaker for the Abbot. He was friendly to the tenants and often argued in their favour. One day he must have said something wrong to the Abbot and the next thing we heard, he was burnt as heretic. His wife and son had to leave their house and Tosdalen lands. That's how Nele ended up in the tavern. Nobody would help her feed her child, nobody would offer them shelter for fear of the Abbot. She was a strong, good looking woman, and the landlord gave her work in the tavern. When Enewalt, the old collier, made the offer to marry her she went with him, rather working hard in the forest than plying the trade of a whore. There was nothing bad about her or her son. Pelle has worked hard to earn his living and to live down the shame people have heaped upon his head for his poor father's misfortune. Is that the sort of man we should scorn?"

Ingeburg felt shame. In her previous mindset she had regarded the people who were burnt at the stake as faceless 'heretics'. She never put a name or a face to them or asked what had earned them their horrible death. Hunold's calm lesson was having a greater effect on her than his terrible rage a week before. She tried to imagine herself, having her parents burnt and driven from her home, and she made a decision never to be mean to the Collier again.

"No, Father," she replied. "I shall ask his forgiveness for my cruelty, not to lessen your anger at me, but because I can now see how wrong it was to scorn him."

Hunold nodded at her with approval. "You're not a bad girl, Ingeburg. Try not to listen to your mother too much. Open your eyes at the world around you. Sow friendliness around you and you will harvest friendship in turn. Do not turn into a bitter shrew like your mother. She was treated badly by the old baron, I'll grant her that. He promised her the world for her virtue, but once she had given it away he dropped her like a hot coal. You'll be much better off with a husband from our own stand, my girl. Mark my words."

Ingeburg shrugged. "Who will have me in Lemdalen, Father? The young men don't talk to me anymore."

"Whose fault is that?"

She lowered her pretty head and blushed pink. "Mine, Father," she whispered.

"Then offer your apology to those you treated badly."

"I fear there are many of them, Father."

Hunold laughed grimly. "You're still young. You'll have plenty of time."

°°°

"Mother, this dress is too tight. What will people think of me?" Ingeburg complained.

The dress her mother had made her put on was cut low, and her bosom was almost spilling out of the top. Ingeburg felt that she looked like one of the wenches in the tavern.

"It compliments your looks, girl. The baron will come today, as will all his retainers. Make sure to smile at the baron whenever he looks at you. Come to think of it, smile all the time! Men like a happy face. When you pour ale and wine, stand close and bend over."

"But Mother, the people will give me bad names!" Ingeburg complained.

Her standing in the village had undergone some change in the recent weeks. Her taunt at the collier had backfired badly, and the adult population regarded her mostly with distaste. Even the young men of the village who had once flocked around her now shunned her. She had heard rumours that they had met and all taken an oath not to speak to her anymore. She was sure that Bartel and Nithart were behind this. They had been best friends before they fought over Ingeburg. Now they had resolved their quarrel and they incited the other village youths against her. Even her best girlfriends, Margrite and Luise, had not visited her in the two weeks since the incident.

"What do you care about those peasants, Ingeburg? Just go and find yourself a man of consequence from among the baron's retainers. That is where our future lies, not in this stink hole."

"Are you sure, Mother? Most of them will only want one thing of me."

"Surely they do; just don't give it away for naught! You'll do better than I did; so don't you be tricked by empty promises. I'll keep an eye on you, never worry. I'll let no worthless stable boy or page trick you. Come now! Make sure you get to serve at the baron's table when the fair starts."

With a heavy heart Ingeburg followed her mother. Luckily, Hunold and his sons were already busy in the village square. Hunold would have sent Ingeburg back to dress decently. She felt shame when she had to step out wearing the tight dress. Almost immediately, she heard the scornful remarks she had feared, and she felt heat in her cheeks. She had a bad feeling. This day would not end well.

She caught more scandalised looks when Greta pushed her into the new church and into one of the front pews. Her cheeks burning, Ingeburg kept looking at her feet. Still she heard the snickering of the young men in the adjoining pews.

She also heard Hunold's angry whisper. "Take her home I say! Have her dress decently!"

Greta sounded smug when she answered. "We can't. The service will start in a few moments. The baron is already outside."

Indeed, they heard a bustle from the rear and the clinking of spurs as the baron entered with his train of followers. Ingeburg looked at the man who was her half brother. He smiled benevolently at the villagers until his eyes caught Greta. His piercing look was not boding well.

Father Pancracius, the Abbot of Tosdalen performed the dedication ceremony with all the routine borne of years in high church office. None of the villagers and scarcely any of the noble visitors understood a word, for the entire mass was held in Latin. Thankfully, the Abbot was brief or mayhap he was just hungry. Soon, led by the baron, the villagers filed out of the church and into the village square.

Like the other village girls of marriage age, Ingeburg had been tasked with serving at the tables. Greta had told her to serve at the baron's table but his angry look at Greta and her family scared Ingeburg enough to stay away. She tried to be as friendly as possible as she offered wine from the pitcher she held to the people at the other tables, ignoring the lewd comments directed at her. Then Ingeburg espied the collier Pelle who was sitting at a table with the two blacksmiths and their families. Ingeburg steeled herself. She had given her promise to Hunold and she would keep word.

"Would you like some wine, Master Collier?" she asked politely.

She could tell that the collier was conflicted. In the end, Rudlo's wife Hedwig put a calming hand on his arm and he nodded reluctantly.

"Yes, thank you," he said under his breath.

Ingeburg filled his mug to the brim before she looked into his eyes and took another deep breath.

"Master Collier, if you will listen to me, I wish to beg your forgiveness for the ugly words I spoke to you a fortnight ago. What I said was stupid and cruel, and I have felt guilt over it ever since."

There was a lull in the talk at the tables around them. People stared at her unbelievingly. 'The Princess' was offering an apology? Ingeburg forced herself to look steadily at the collier. His gaze was on her for a number of breaths.

"Is this another one of your taunts?" he asked warily.

Ingeburg shook her head, her face red with shame. "No. I really feel bad and your forgiveness would be a great relief for my conscience."

The Collier took a deep breath of his own. "You are forgiven, Ingeburg, Hunold's daughter, if you mean it."

Up to this moment, Ingeburg had not known how much anguish she had felt. She grabbed the Collier's hand and pressed it.

"Thank you, Pelle. I shall never be mean to you again," she promised earnestly.

She felt much better when she strode along the tables and back to the benches where the wine casks stood to refill the pitcher she carried.

"What were you thinking?" Greta suddenly hissed at her from the side. "To ask that lout's forgiveness? For what? He should be thankful to be allowed here!"

Ingeburg met her mother's angry stare. "Father bade me apologise for my ugly words and I did. I feel better for it."

"Stupid girl! Now put away that pitcher! We have people to see."

Greta grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Much to Ingeburg's horror, Greta pulled her straight towards the baron's table. As soon as he saw Greta, the laughter died on his lips to be replaced by an angry scowl.

"Great Lord, may I speak?" Greta asked kneeling before the baron.



-------

Chapter 4: How the Baron Finds Ingeburg a Husband



It was two weeks after his quarrel with Greta, a Sunday, and like the rest of the village, Pelle stood in front of the new church. The baron, having recovered a year before from a severe bout of the Mumps and attributing this to the prayers of his priests, had pledged to build a stone church in Lemdalen to show his gratitude, and now the new church was finished.

When the baron rode into the village in the tenth hour, followed by a train of retainers and soldiers, all the people watched on and cheered. Baron Sigfrid looked indeed splendid in his purple coat, his feathered hat, and his shiny boots. He was in his early thirties and a widower after his wife had died in childbirth.

He was welcomed by the reeve of Lemdalen, Markward, who wore a Birkenhain coat-of-arms and even a sword for the occasion. Markward was at best useless for the villagers. At worst, when he settled quarrels, he unerringly sided with the few cronies he had. There were also rumours that no serving maid was safe from his philandering ways, and that he frequently tried to shake down the freeholders and craftsmen for "special levies".

Pelle himself was not in that man's bailiwick as he was living out in the forest. The forests had appointed keepers, but Lemdalen Forest was ruled directly by the overseer of the lands who was content with Pelle delivering coal regularly.

All the villagers were wearing their finest for the occasion. Pelle could see from afar that Greta had put her daughter into a tight fitting dress with a low neckline that showed off the creamy white flesh of her chest, causing quite a few scandalised looks and open leering by the reeve. Pelle saw that the men in the baron's train looked at her too, and he grinned to himself. Mayhap Greta's dreams would come true today and some vassal of the baron would fall for Ingeburg's outward beauty. The poor fellow!

The church, new as it was, was too small for the baron, his followers, and all the villagers. Along with the lower ranked villagers, Pelle stood outside on the steps and watched the dedication ceremony performed by the Abbot of Tosdalen. He regarded the Abbot with silent hatred. Fat and jovial though he looked he'd had Pelle's father burnt at the stake for a word said in anger. If ever given a chance, Pelle would have his revenge.

Seeing the fat abbot almost ruined the village fair for Pelle. However, a number of traders had come to offer their wares and the opportunities were too good to pass. One fellow had yew bow staves for sale. He claimed that they were already well aged and Pelle found them without flaw. They cost him two Groschen each, but he bought two for his use. For a moment, he felt tempted to take his belongings and drive home to his cabin. He was eager to try the new bow staves, and village fairs had always been a mixed bag for him. Whilst exciting and offering fun, he would also be subject to ridicule once the village youths were drunk enough.

The friendliness he encountered on this day made him change his mind. It was almost funny how many people spoke kindly to him. It seemed to him that his confrontation with Greta had won him friends in Lemdalen. Even the baron recognised him and spoke to him briefly, asking him about his yields and the possibility to increase the amounts of coal. The demand for good steel was growing and the shrewd baron wanted to secure the supplies. He suggested that Pelle take in a helper and that was certainly good advice. Many people regarded the collier differently after that.

In good mood Pelle sat with Rudlo and Tymo's families. They were jesting with each other and having a good time when suddenly Ingeburg stood before Pelle to offer him drink. Then she flabbergasted everyone by asking forgiveness of Pelle. She seemed so sincere that he finally accepted her plea for forgiveness and to his shock she even pressed his hand in what seemed like genuine gratitude.

Still not comprehending, Pelle followed the girl with his eyes. He saw Greta step up to her, and he could see that the old shrew was angry with her daughter. Greta then made her way to the table where the baron sat, dragging a hesitant Ingeburg behind her. Like many others, Pelle strained to hear what she said.

"Great Lord, my I speak?" she asked kneeling before him.

"Speak, woman!"

"I am Greta, Lord. Perhaps you have heard my name before. I served your noble father for many years, his memory may be cherished. As a result, my daughter Ingeburg was born, and your father saw fit to send me here to be wed to my husband Hunold."

Even from twenty paces away Pelle saw a cloud on the brow of the baron.

"Yes?" he asked curtly. "What of it?"

"You can see for yourself that my Ingeburg is a fair lass, and seeing that she is of your own father's blood, may he rest in peace, almost your half-sister so to speak, I ask that you find her a proper husband, for none fitting can be found in Lemdalen."

The baron was less than pleased by the request as Pelle could see. Also, a number of young men grumbled audibly at Greta's words, considering them insulting.

"I know thee, woman! You usurped my poor mother's place and using your wiles you corrupted my poor father. You have the nerve to stand here and ask me for my favour?"

"Not for me, good Lord! For my daughter who is of your father's blood."

The baron briefly regarded Ingeburg and a cruel smile played around his lips. "Is this your wish too, Ingeburg, Greta's daughter?"

Ingeburg looked down modestly, and when she spoke she was barely audible. "I shall be grateful for my Lord's guidance and for whosoever he will find for me."

The baron's mouth twitched again and mirth shone from his eyes. "A husband for my almost-sister. That is worth a thought or two. Who shall I pick?"

He let his gaze sweep over his followers who showed amusement, too. Then his gaze swept over the villagers. To Pelle's shock, the baron's eyes suddenly focussed on him and an evil grin formed on his lips.

"Holla, Collier! Step forward! You need help out there in the forest; you need somebody to cook and clean for you. Will you take fair Ingeburg for your wedded wife?"

"Lord, please, no!" Greta shrieked. "Not the collier! He's a dirty, uncouth scoundrel, unworthy of my daughter! Look at my Ingeburg! So pretty and well-groomed. She can make a nobleman happy. Just take her in! No need to have her marry. But don't give her to a collier!"

Pelle was dumbfounded at first, but then he spoke up to ward off this outlandish idea.

"Lord, I'd rather not. Ingeburg and I are not friends and living with her I might just strangle her. And if her mother ever visits, I'll most assuredly strangle her."

The villagers broke into scornful laughter. Even the collier refused the 'princess'! The baron laughed heartily at first.

"You're a man after my heart, Collier! But what nonsense!" the baron exclaimed, now growing impatient. "Treat the lass with a firm hand and she'll serve you fine. She's tall and looks strong, and she's not ugly at all."

"But, Lord, really..."

"Enough, Collier! I'm in no mood for more of this tomfoolery." He grinned maliciously. "I'll even double your yearly allowance to twelve deer from my own forest! Let nobody say that I don't see to maintaining my almost-sister in proper style! Holla, Abbot! Have one of your priests perform a quick wedding!"

The baron's men at arms brooked no resistance and dragged Pelle into the new church. Hunold looked fit to burst, his head red like a ripe tomato, but the baron was adamant. Hunold had to lead his stepdaughter down the aisle to where Pelle stood. He was looking around for an escape much like a trapped fox would.

The ceremony was performed hurriedly by a slovenly priest who was neither steady on his feet nor had much of his wits left after having indulged heavily in wine and ale.

"Do you, Pell', Coljer in Lemdalen, take sssish Ingeburg, dodder of Hunold, ash your fife?"

The gloved hand of a soldier slapped the back of Pelle's head when he hesitated one last time.

"Aye," Pelle said through clenched teeth.

"Do you, Ingeburg, dodder of Hunold, take Pell', called ssse Coljer, ash your hushband, sssen sssay 'aye'!"

"I..." Ingeburg tried to protest.

"Fine. I declare you hushband and fife. What ssse Lord hasss joined let no man tear asssunder!"

That was it. Pelle left the church with an Ingeburg at his side who was shaking her head as if trying to wake from a nightmare. Pelle felt the same. He was dazed. The baron had just made him marry the most spiteful girl for miles around. It did not matter that she had apologised for her latest and worst slight. She was a spoiled and malevolent shrew!

Bride and groom had to listen to the jeering and to the scornful shouts of the crowd. The taunts were mostly directed at Ingeburg, but they were insulting to both of them.

"Hey, Ingeburg, is that your noble husband?" - "Ingeburg, careful! His dirt will rub off on you!" - "Better spread your pretty legs and play nice, Ingeburg, lest you end up in his coal pile!"

And on they went. Even Ingeburg's friends, Margrite and Luise, shouted scornful insults at her. Ingeburg looked around dazed and she shed silent tears under the public humiliation. Thankfully, the smith Rudlo and his wife Hedwig rushed to their help leading up Pelle's donkey cart.

"Here, Friend, get on your cart and leave before this gets any worse."

Numbly, Pelle mounted his cart whilst Hedwig pushed the dazed Ingeburg up as well, and then Rudlo slapped the back of the donkey to start it into a quick trot. Ingeburg stared back at her parents who stood by as if thunderstruck whilst Pelle took the reins and steered the cart towards the forest. Slowly, the hubbub died away as they left the village.

When a group of young people wanted to follow the cart, Rudlo, Tymo and the tavern landlord headed them off. Shortly after, the baron and his followers mounted their horses and left laughing among themselves at Greta and Ingeburg's expense.

°°°

Both young people sat silently whilst Pelle steered the cart out of the village. The sun was still above the tree tops when they neared the fringe of the large forest.

"Whereto are we going?" Ingeburg suddenly asked.

"To my cabin; where else?" was Pelle's morose answer.

"No, I mean, where is your cabin? It's not in the forest, is it?"

"Well, it is. I'm a collier. Where else would I live?"

"Y-you take me to live in the forest? Who else lives there?"

Pelle shook his head. "Nobody but me. My mother and my stepfather lived there, but they died five years ago. I've been living alone all the time since then."

Ingeburg looked around in fear as the cart made progress along the narrow path through the trees. Finally they arrived in the clearing where Enewalt had built the cabin.

"We're here," Pelle announced unnecessarily.

Still in dazed silence, Ingeburg dismounted and stood motionless whilst Pelle unhitched the donkey and led the animal to the small corral. The cart was pushed against the side of the cabin and Pelle collected the items he had purchased at the fair.

"Help me carry!" he said gruffly and Ingeburg jumped at the sound of his voice.

He loaded her arms with food items and took three larger sacks and the bow staves himself. The door to the cabin had a cast iron lock, a gift from the baron's smiths, and Pelle pulled out the large key to open it. The door opened with a squeak in its iron hinges and Ingeburg peeked in from behind Pelle's back.

What she saw was a far cry from what she had feared. The cabin was roomy, at least ten paces long and six wide. When Pelle opened three shutters, light streamed in through the latticed windows showing a wooden floor, a solid pine wood table with benches, and a large fireplace. Opposite the fireplace, the beams supported a loft under the rafters that extended over half of the cabin. There was a ladder leading up to it. A huge wooden chest stood opposite the table, and a wooden tub in the far corner completed the furniture.

"Think you'll survive here?" he asked with a gruff voice.

Ingeburg regarded him with some trepidation. She feared that Pelle would mount her right away to claim her as his. She nodded, then collected her courage.

"This ... this is a nice cabin, large and roomy. It is better than most of the cottages I know in the village," she said, making an effort to appease the tall man who was her husband now.

He snorted. "Not the hovel you expected?"

"I didn't know what to expect. I had no time to expect anything," she answered hotly, her temper flaring up.

To her surprise, Pelle barked a laugh. "It's not Birkenhain Castle. That's for sure."

Ingeburg blushed at the taunt. "No it isn't. But I wouldn't know. I never saw the castle from within. At least I don't remember any of it."

"Did you learn to cook?"

Ingeburg nodded. "Some, but not much. Mother was against it, but Hunold made me help his sister in the last weeks."

Pelle groaned. Not only had the baron made him marry this spoiled princess, she did not even know how to be a wife!

"Cleaning?"

"Please?"

"Cleaning, do you know how to clean, how to do laundry?"

"A little," she answered in a small voice, conscious of her deficiencies. "Mother did not want me to do laundry, but I'll learn."

Pelle looked at her in dismay. "What did you learn then?" he asked.

"I'm good at needlework," she said defensively. "And I learned how to behave courtly."

"Yes, I had a taste of that," Pelle snorted with bitter derision.

Ingeburg blushed crimson, the memory of that afternoon two weeks ago still fresh in her mind.

"Pelle?"

"What?"

"I apologised for it and you said you'd forgive me if I really meant it. I did. I swear."

He stared at her for a long time trying to decide whether she was earnest and Ingeburg looked back pleadingly. In the end he sighed.

"I hope you mean it, Ingeburg. If you do, I'll forgive you. We must make this work somehow. What a mess!"

Ingeburg took his hand and pressed it. "Thank you. I'm sorry that the baron made you marry me. I know that I wasn't your choice but now you're stuck with me."

"It was my own fault to stand tall in the crowd instead of hiding," Pelle answered with a lopsided smile.

"Is it so terrible to be married to me? Am I so hateful to everybody? They revelled in my humiliation like I was the most hateful person in the village."

Pelle looked at her. "Were you not the same, just days ago? What if Luise had been forced to marry me? Wouldn't you have laughed at her?"

Ingeburg lowered her head, her face red again. "Yes, I would have, and I'm ashamed."

He regarded her for a moment and then seemed to have come to a conclusion. He walked over to the fireplace and blew into the ashes. There were still some glowing embers and coals in it from the morning. Using wood shavings and small twigs, Pelle had a new fire going in no time at all.

Once he had the fire going, Pelle spread the burning wood and put a cast iron skillet over the flames. With a large knife he cut slices from a bacon to fry. Ingeburg just watched him; she did not know where to find things in the cabin and he seemed content to prepare the meal. When the bacon was sizzling in the pan, Pelle took the wooden lid off a small pot. It contained a thick pea soup which he ladled into the pan to heat. It smelled good. Ingeburg readily identified the marjoram that he had used to spice the soup. He also cut slices off a large loaf of rye bread.

"You have an oven?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, behind the cabin. Can you bake bread?"

"I'm good at baking," she answered trying to please. "I'll learn to be a good cook too. You'll see."

To her surprise the low bowls he put on the table were of pewter and quite costly, and the spoons were made of the same metal. The cabin was well appointed with cook wares. Ingeburg realised that Pelle was not the dirt-poor forest dweller she had always thought him to be. Pewter plates and bowls, tin-plated copper pots, and the oil lamp she saw could only he bought from the Jewish traders in town, and only for many silver coins.

Peas and bacon with dark rye bread made for a good supper after a terrible day. Ingeburg was surprised that she even had an appetite, but then she emptied her bowl and wiped it clean with bread. They drank water with the food, and it was fresh and clean coming from the creek outside. She thought of something.

"I know berries and leaves that yield tasty teas. Should I collect some before autumn?"

"Yes, I can show you where wild berries can be found. I always buy herbs in town; if you collect them yourself we can save a few Groschen."

After the meal, he looked at her. "You need clothes," he said.

Ingeburg looked down at her dress. It was of a finely woven cloth and costly, too costly for everyday use. Also it was much too tight and it was not proper looking in the first place.

"Could we go back to Hunold's house to collect my clothes?" she asked hopefully.

"Not today," Pelle said. "Tomorrow I need to work on the kiln. The baron made it clear that he wants more coal delivered to his forge. No, we'll have to wait until next Sunday. I'll get you something from my mother; she was built like you."

"B-but w-wasn't she..." Ingeburg stuttered.

"What?" he snarled getting angry in a heartbeat.

Ingeburg shrank back. "I heard she was ... working in the tavern?"

She did not dare speak the word 'whore' for fear he would kill her. For some reason she thought those clothes would be different and unfit for wear by a 'decent' girl.

"When the fat Abbot had my father burnt he also had us driven from our house and land. My mother started to work in the tavern to feed me, because nobody else would give her work and we had gone hungry for a week. On the first day in the tavern, Enewalt showed up. He took us in and married Mother. Do you object to wearing one of her dresses?"

She shook her head.

"Come over here!" he ordered, and she ran after him.

He pulled three dresses from the large chest. They were made from sturdy cloth, not costly but serviceable, and they looked warm. He laid them down on a bench.

"Pick one and change," he said. "I need to show you around the clearing."

Ingeburg looked around for some place where she would be alone, but the cabin offered no privacy.

"Well?" he asked noticing her hesitation.

"I..." she blushed deeply. "I never showed my nakedness to a man before."

"Never worry. It'll be a snowy day in mid-summer before I'll touch you!"

That inexplicably brought tears to her eyes but she squared her shoulders and opened the neck tie of her fancy dress. It fell down to her feet, and for a moment she stood there wearing only her thin shift. Suddenly determined, she picked up one of the dresses, stepped into it and pulled it up tying the neck band.

He had watched her whilst she changed dresses and she had felt his eyes on her exposed body. Now he went to a corner of the cabin and returned with a pair of wooden shoes.

"Put these on your feet. Your shoes are too thin. The ground is swampy near the creek."

She put on the wooden shoes and followed him outside. He led her down to the creek which was fifty paces away and showed her the place where he filled buckets. He showed her a deep pit, away from the creek, where he dropped his wastes. Then he led the way to the centre of the large storm clearing. Ingeburg saw a pile of charcoal. The ground around it was charred and black.

"That was the last pile I fired," Pelle explained. "You can help me tomorrow working on the next."

She looked at him, afraid to show her ignorance.

"You wouldn't know how. I'll teach you whilst we do it," he said.

They walked back to the cabin, Pelle in the lead and Ingeburg lagging behind. Once inside, Pelle rummaged through the wooden chest again and produced a tightly woven wool blanket.

"Here, take this. I'll show you where you can sleep."

He climbed the ladder to the loft and Ingeburg followed. Once up, he pointed at a narrow cot under the rafters to the right.

"That's yours. Better have a look at the mattress. I haven't used it in years, but I aired it only two weeks ago. I sleep over there," he pointed at a larger bed that was clearly meant for two persons.

Ingeburg felt a mixture of rejection and relief at this. Relief, because she had feared that he would claim her right away. Rejection, because he made it quite clear that he did not want her in his bed. Was she so abominable?

Resigned, she inspected the bed. She smelled on the mattress but she could not smell mould or anything else. It was straw filled and not quite as comfortable as the horsehair-stuffed mattress she had slept on for most of her young life. The blanket on top of the mattress was worn but clean; she could in fact smell soap on it. The pillow of coarse linen was filled with feathers of some sorts. Ingeburg fluffed it a little and decided it would do.

In the meantime, Pelle had taken off his Sunday clothing and his shirt. Naked he climbed down the ladder once more to lock up and close the shutters. He banked the fire in the fireplace and lit a tallow light that he carried up the ladder. The flickering light made him look huge and Ingeburg stared at him with a mix of fear and admiration. Pelle was a strong man, in fact the strongest she had ever seen. His muscles were those of a man who worked hard and they flexed under his skin whenever he moved.

Secretly, she stole glances at his manhood. It did not look quite as fearsome as her mother had made her believe, but she realised that it had to be in its limp state. That had to mean that he was not excited, that he was not aroused by her presence.

'He still hates me, ' Ingeburg thought.

Resigned she pulled the dress over her head keeping only her linen shift, shivering slightly in the cooling cabin. She settled on the narrow cot and arranged the wool blanket over her body.

"Good night," she offered hesitantly.

"G'night," came the tight response.

Pelle blew out the tallow light and the cabin was pitch black. There was nothing to do but to try to sleep.



-------

Chapter 5: How Pelle and Ingeburg Learn to Live With the Other


"Holla, Collier, wake! It's Hunold! Wake up!"

The shouting from outside woke them both. One heartbeat, Ingeburg lay snuggled in her blanket, in the next, she was sitting up. She protested, still sleepy.

"I don't want to see him. He'll be angry with me."

"He can't spank you anymore," Pelle yawned. "That's my right now."

He was already slipping into his pants. Pulling a tunic over his head, he climbed down the ladder and opened the door.

"What brings you here so early, Hunold?" Ingeburg heard him ask.

"The worry over my daughter, what else?" Hunold answered sharply. "How is she?"

Pelle looked up to the loft where Ingeburg sat on her bed wearing only a shirt.

"You woke us, Hunold. Let her dress and I'll send her out to talk to you. Will you break fast with us?"

"Let me speak to her first."

"Dress, Ingeburg! Your father wants to speak you!"

Hastily, Ingeburg pulled the dress over her head. Still not wearing shoes, she climbed down from the platform and stood in the door, her hair tousled from sleep.

"Good morning, Father," she greeted him.

"Ingeburg, how are you feeling?"

A warm feeling spread over her. Her stepfather had been harsh with her all those last years. The more her mother doted on her the more her stepfather seemed to resent her. But now his voice was full of caring.

"I'm still dazed. So much happened yesterday."

"Your husband, did he treat you well?" Hunold asked in a whisper.

Ingeburg smirked. "I cannot complain about him."

"Did he... ?"

Ingeburg shook her head. "He does not covet me it seems. I fear he still resents me. Aren't you coming in, Father?"

"I think I will. Let me pick up some things from the wagon first. I brought you your dresses, your cloak, and sturdy shoes. I also picked up some of the things left from your grandmother."

"Oh, thank you, Father! That means so much to me!"

In a flash she hugged her father and he let her, gently patting her back. She let him go and looked into his face.

"I missed those hugs, Father. We did not get along well those last years. Was it because Mother always made a fuss over me?"

"I was fearing that she spoiled you, Ingeburg, and she did."

Ingeburg nodded solemnly. "I know. How is Mother?"

Hunold sighed. "Don't hold your breath waiting for her visit. She is beside herself, although I don't know what she thought she was doing. After all, it was the Baron who forced his father to throw her from the castle. It was so foolish! Had I known about it, I would have prevented it."

"Mayhap it was meant to happen. This craziness had to stop."

"I see you did some thinking, Daughter. Let us sit for breakfast. I brought milk and a dozen eggs. Has your husband a fire going?"

Pelle had and they fried eggs with bacon for a filling breakfast. When they were finished, Pelle wanted to clear the table but Ingeburg was up already and made him sit down. She was the woman of the house now.

"She's not a bad girl, you know," Hunold spoke to Pelle. "I know, I know. She taunted you all the time, but she really meant it when she asked forgiveness. If you treat her right I'll make it worth for you."

"We'll have to wait," Pelle answered heavily. "I wasn't planning on marriage yet and I wouldn't have thought of Ingeburg even if I was. She's been keeping her tongue in check. Let's see for how long. I'll not stand for it if she starts to follow her mother's example."

"Fair enough. Will you come visit us after church next Sunday? There's still the question of Ingeburg's dowry. She's only my stepdaughter, but no daughter of mine joins a man without a dowry. Think of something you will need, and we'll talk it over after noon meal."

Pelle nodded. "We can do that. It's good that you brought her clothes. I won't find the time this week to visit Lemdalen. I have to start the next kiln. She'll have to help with that. She can't cook anyway, and I need a helper more than a housekeeper."

"Just don't work her to death. She isn't used to hard work, my fault really, so please be easy on the girl."

"I'm no taskmaster, Hunold, and I'll do all the heavy lifting and the chopping. She can do the legwork."

Hunold nodded. "That she can and she will. She isn't bad, really. She was a sweet girl before her mother filled her head with those foolish ideas. It's better I was on my way. You have work to do, and so have I."

Hunold gave Ingeburg a short hug for farewell and left on his one horse wagon. Ingeburg hurried to stow away her clothes and the other things Hunold had brought. Then she dressed for work and followed Pelle outside. Pelle loaded the donkey cart with his axes, wedges, hammers, and other tools, and then they started out across the clearing.

Over the years, the windbreak had been cleared of dead wood. Now Pelle built his kilns along the fringes of the forest, and he roamed the woods for small trees and fallen branches. Since he was alone, he could not fell and drag larger trees. Instead, he built his piles with the wastes of the forest and with smaller saplings.

For the next hour, he dragged small logs and large branches to the clearing. Ingeburg was given the task of breaking up the dry deadwood into short logs, and to fill the bed of the donkey cart. Pelle cut the larger branches and small tree trunks to size with his big saw, and Ingeburg loaded those on the cart, too.

Once the cart was filled, Pelle let the donkey pull it to where he had started a new kiln a week ago. While Ingeburg brought the logs from the wagon bed, Pelle piled them up in the pattern Enewalt had taught him many years ago. Soon they returned to the forest and loaded the cart a second time and a third time. When the sun stood high above the clearing, Pelle opened a basket that held buttered rye bread, smoked sausages, and an earthen bottle with light ale. The two young people sat on a tree trunk and wolfed down the frugal meal.

Ingeburg was dead tired already from the unaccustomed work, but the food and drink gave her new strength. Much to his surprise, Pelle felt fatigue as well. It took a while for him to reason that with Ingeburg doing the legwork, he spent more time doing the heavy lifting, chopping, and sawing. On the other hand, they had already piled up three cartloads by noon. Normally, he barely managed two. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Ingeburg was helping.

After their break, Ingeburg had problems getting up. Her sore muscles, now cold from the break, protested against any movement and it took her some time before she was able to move without a limp. Still, getting increasingly used to working together, they were able to bring three more cartloads of wood to the pile, and Pelle felt satisfaction at the amount of work they had accomplished for one day. It was easily more than half as much again as he usually got done on a good day.

On the way back to the cabin, he told Ingeburg as much and she managed a tired smile in response. They worked together to prepare a supper. Ingeburg was ravenous. She ate three helpings and she had two mugs of thin ale to wash the food down. She almost fell asleep at the table, but Pelle had her help with cleaning until the sun sank below the treetops. Then, when she looked at him with drooping eyelids, he told her to go to bed. Pelle cleared away a few things and locked up, but when he climbed the ladder up to the platform, Ingeburg's exhausted snoring already filled the cabin. He chuckled at first, amused at the thought that the spoiled princess had worked herself dog tired, but then he checked himself. Ingeburg had really worked hard and she had not complained once.

Looking at her in the flickering light of the tallow candle he had to admit that she looked like a sleeping angel, that is if angels ever slept snoring with an open mouth. Her opened hair framed her head like a golden halo and he could see the swell of her proud breasts under the linen shirt, rising gently with each snoring breath. For a moment he was sorely tempted to touch her, but he knew that if he ever touched her he would not be able to stop. And of that he was afraid. He knew that once he let her touch his heart he would be at her mercy. With an effort, he turned away and undressed. He briefly contemplated to relief his needs with his hand, but then he forced himself away from that train of thought. The physical exertion of the day helped and soon Pelle was asleep, too.

The next day brought a repeat of the Monday, only they were done a little earlier. That evening, Ingeburg was even more exhausted and Pelle found her lying on her cot fully clothed and dead to the world when he climbed the ladder after lock-up. Against his better judgement, he gently undressed her. She never woke up but Pelle got his first feel of her enticing body. He had to relieve himself afterwards, and he had Ingeburg's body before his inner eye when his member erupted in a geyser of seed.

On Wednesday, Pelle had them work on the kiln until noon time only, and they had their noon meal at the cabin. While Pelle cleaned his tools and sharpened his axes and his wood saw, Ingeburg readied a sourdough for baking – she had started it the evening before – and fired the oven. Kneading the dough with her tired arms almost made her scream, but once the loaves were in the oven, the heavenly smell of fresh bread made her mouth water.

While the bread was baking, Ingeburg ground some more grains to prepare a pastry, using carrots, onions, and the meat of a rabbit that Pelle had caught in one of his snares. To her amazement, Ingeburg found spicy herbs in Pelle's food locker. She did not know half of them, but using her sense of smell she selected one to season the rabbit pastry. That evening at supper, Pelle could not help but smile broadly when he took the first bite of the pastry.

"Why Ingeburg, didn't you claim you never learned to cook? This is delicious!"

Ingeburg blushed hearing the unexpected praise. "I-I just tried a few things," she mumbled.

"You can try as much as you like if this is what comes out of it," Pelle returned.

"I will," Ingeburg promised. "You have many herbs in the locker. I didn't know most of them. Where are they from?"

"I bought them from the Jew Avraham, in Birkenhain. I have dealings with Levy the Jew, the money lender, and Avraham is his uncle."

"Oh, are you in debt?" Ingeburg asked in a worried tone. She had heard of people owing money to the Jews and that they ended up paying back more than once again of what they owed.

"No," Pelle smiled smugly. "I give him the coins I don't need and he pays me interest for it."

"Why does he need your silver? I heard he is rich."

"Rich as he is he does not have enough gold of his own to lend to all the people who come to him. So he takes my silver and gold, lends it to somebody who needs it, and we split the interest he earns."

"You have gold?" Ingeburg asked, bewildered at the thought. Even Hunold, the richest freeholder in Lemdalen, had only a few gold Ducats.

"They pay me a Groschen for each two bushels of coal at the baron's forge, and I have the right to hunt. There is not much that I need for myself, so I do not use many of the Groschen I get paid. I save up."

Ingeburg nodded. It made sense and it fitted with what she had observed. Pelle did not lack for food or even for pricy goods such as herbs. At least she would not have to worry about going hungry. Then a thought struck her.

"What if the Jew runs with all your gold?" she blurted. After all, her mother had told her more than once to never trust a Jew.

Pelle just shook his head. "I have a parchment that says how much he owes me. Levy's brother over in Rennenberg has pledged for it, too. Besides, I trust Levy. He is a friend, one of the few I have."

His tone made it clear that he found her worries insulting to his trusted friend, and Ingeburg knew that she had put her foot in her mouth again.

"I do not really know about this, but my mother told me to never trust the Jews," she tried to explain.

Pelle's explosive laugh filled the cabin. "And look where you ended up following her counsel!" he guffawed.

At first Ingeburg felt offended but then she saw the truth in his words. On how much of what her mother had taught her could she still count? It was saddening and confusing.

"I see where you may be right," she said sadly. "She does know little and she made many mistakes in her life. Forgive me for insulting your friend."

Pelle looked at her. "Next week I'll deliver coal to Birkenhain. You'll come with me and you'll meet Levy. He has a daughter who is your age. She learned the healing arts from her mother. You'll find her a good girl."

"Really? You'll let me go to Birkenhain with you?" Ingeburg gushed. "I'd love that! I haven't seen it since I was a little girl. It will be so exciting!"

She positively beamed over the prospect and Pelle could not help but smile at her exuberance.

"Yes, of course. We can pick up a few things with the traders in Birkenhain, like rolled oats. Some yarn, too, if you want to weave during the winter."

They talked about what they would need until Ingeburg started to yawn. Suddenly, she remembered something.

"Did you undress me yesterday? I know I just dropped on my bed fully dressed, yet I woke wearing only my shirt."

"I did. It's not good to sleep fully dressed."

"Oh!" was all Ingeburg could say. She blushed pink at the thought.

She made a point of undressing herself that evening before she wrapped the blanket around her. To her surprise she noticed that she was not quite as tired as the evenings before. Sure, her muscles hurt terribly, but her body seemed to adjust to the work. She thought of what she had learned that day while she waited for sleep to take her. Her husband, the lowly collier, owned gold and had dealings with rich Jews. He was even friends with one and he spoke with reverence of the Jew's daughter.

Ingeburg almost sat up then. Was this why he did not touch her, Ingeburg? Did he covet the Jew's daughter? That was impossible she decided. Pelle had shown that he was level-headed. He could not think of a Jewess that way. Even the thought would earn him severe penance after confession. No she decided. His lack of interest in her would stem from the scorn she had heaped on him in past years. Somehow she had to convince him that she was honest in her regret over her former ways.

The next day was filled with work on the growing kiln, from early morning to evening. The previous day of semi-rest helped them through it, but Ingeburg was still almost asleep on her feet while she washed bowls and dishes after supper. However, when she dropped on her cot it was on purpose that she kept her dress on. She forced herself to stay awake while she pretended to sleep, until she heard Pelle climb the ladder to the platform. She heard his sigh and a chuckle, and then the floor boards creaked as he walked over to her cot.

The gentleness of his touch surprised her as he lifted her body into a sitting position. His arm around her back he lifted her up further, to pull the bottom of her dress up above her hips. Then she felt the cool air as he pulled the dress over her head. Her shirt must have ridden up, exposing her lower body, for she felt his hand on her naked skin when he pulled the shirt back down. A low moan escaped her lips without her knowing it, and she heard his breath catch in his throat.

He laid her back down though, almost to her dismay, and pulled the blanket over her body. Then something unexpected happened. She felt his hand on her cheek, gently brushing back a few strands of hair, and she heard him sigh deeply.

"The Lord's Mercy! She is so lovely!" he whispered to himself. "If only I could trust her!"

Then she heard the floor boards creak again and he was gone. Carefully, Ingeburg opened her eyes and watched Pelle as he pulled his work tunic over his head. His pants followed, and for a moment he stood naked with the tallow light illuminating his body. Ingeburg almost did a double take seeing him. He was strongly built, that she already knew. His lean, muscled body seemed huge in the flickering light, but it was something else that made Ingeburg stare. She had never seen a grown-up man's member. She had seen a few of the village boys swim in the pond, but they had been puny by comparison. And limp. Pelle's manhood stood out stiffly from his body and it looked huge. The sight intrigued and scared Ingeburg. She wanted to touch it, feel it, yet she feared what he would do with that thing one day. It surely was too big to fit into her!

Then, thankfully, he was under his blanket and in his bed, and he blew out the light leaving Ingeburg to her confused thoughts until sleep claimed the upper hand.

Friday was a repeat of Thursday. When they finished work for the day, Ingeburg felt satisfaction at the size of the pile they had assembled over the week and on the way back to the cabin Pelle even praised her work.

"You helped a lot this week. I admit that you surprise me: You're a good worker."

In spite of the fatigue she felt, Ingeburg smiled openly. "Thank you, Pelle. It makes me feel good that I could help you. What shall we work tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. We'll stay around the cabin. I need to look after my tools and grease the axle of the cart. We must clean out the ashes and sweep the floor. We can air the blankets and other bedding. Then, there is laundry to do. We'll be busy, but it's easy work on Saturdays."

Ingeburg smiled wryly. Easy work! She had never had to do even that which Pelle deemed easy work.

"We'll take a bath, too," Pelle continued, piquing Ingeburg's interest.

"Oh, I saw the big tub. Can we really use it?"

Pelle laughed. "We need to! After a week's work we have to clean up. It'll be worse when we load coal for delivery. Sometimes I bathe thrice a week."

Ingeburg looked at him. "I bet you'll make me load coal just so my face will be black. Well, I have it coming."

Pelle shrugged. "It's the work I do. The coal washes off easily with soap. You'll have to cover your hair and wear old clothes, that's all."

Ingeburg shrugged, too. "I'll live through it. How much longer until the kiln is ready for firing?"

"Two weeks I guess if we keep up. Then three or four days to coat it with clay and sods. A little over a week for firing and a week to cool off. But that's fast. Alone, I need two months easily from starting it to finishing it."

"You can make more coal then?"

"Yes, either that or take longer rest," he grinned.

Ingeburg had a warm feeling seeing him so much at ease with her, but she kept her thoughts to herself. That evening, after supper, she helped Pelle to finish all chores and she climbed the ladder right after him. They both sat on their beds, three paces away from each other, and undressed. Ingeburg took her time that evening to open her braids and comb her hair while Pelle looked on.

He had a hungry look in his eyes as he watched her and Ingeburg felt lightheaded. When Pelle took off his shirt to slip under his blanket, it was her turn to stare for his manhood stood out from his body again. Their eyes met.

"Don't you want me?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

Pelle groaned. "Yes, I do, but then again, I don't."

"I don't understand. Am I not pretty enough for you?"

He snorted. "Ingeburg, you are too pretty! I am afraid. If I get close to you, if I let you get close to me, I'll be lost. And then you can hurt me again."

Ingeburg was kneeling in front of him in a flash. "Pelle, I swear on everything that's sacred to me: I shan't ever be mean to you again."

She tried to return his searching gaze, but being so close to his stiff member she could not help but steal glances at it.

"I ... I want to believe you. You seem sincere and you have been well behaved all week. I promised Hunold to give you a chance and I hope you will earn it. We had no courtship, though, no time to get to know each other. You are still a stranger to me."

Ingeburg nodded. "I can see that. I have to get to know you, too. Could you ... I mean, when we go to church on Sunday ... would you let me hold your arm, like we were married?"

Pelle sighed. This was something he had already thought about.

"Yes, of course. We have to, or we'll be the butt of the jokes again."

Ingeburg rose to her feet again. "I'll go to bed then," she said reluctantly.

"You do that. We'll rise early on the morrow. Good night and sleep well, Ingeburg."

"Sleep well, Pelle."

It was good that they were tired from a week's work. They fell asleep in short time in spite of the thoughts that went through their heads.



-------

Chapter 6: How Ingeburg Stirs Oatmeal and Pelle Clears the Table


As Pelle had promised, the Saturday was spent doing work around the cabin. He helped Ingeburg fire the baking oven and the young woman spent time kneading some dough of wheat flour, sweetened with dried berries and honey, to bake biscuits. This was something she knew well and she worked hard at it. The dough had to rest for some time before she could form biscuits, and she used that to clean the cooking area and the copper pots and pans.

Pelle was busy splitting firewood for their use, and when he was done he greased the axle of his donkey cart. Later, when the delicious smell of fresh biscuits already flooded the air around the cabin, he checked on the wooden shingles of the roof and used clay to repair cracks in the seams of the walls.

In the distance they heard the bell of the new church ring the noon hour and Ingeburg called Pelle in for their noon meal. Oatmeal sweetened with fruits was a filling meal. Afterwards Ingeburg offered a few of her biscuits and mint tea.

"These are good!" Pelle exclaimed. "If nothing else, you are a great baker."

Ingeburg blushed a little. "I always liked to eat them, so I begged my aunt to show me how to bake them."

"I like them too. Let us get what you need for baking the next time we go to Birkenhain."

They spent the afternoon with more chores, such as laundry and sweeping the cabin, but they were done before sunset. Before that, Pelle had kindled the fire and heated water in two large kettles. He also brought more water from the creek to fill the wooden tub. Mashed soap root and pine needles were added to the water and a pleasant smell filled the cabin.

At last, Pelle called it a day. Looking over the cabin he thought they had accomplished a lot, from baking, to repairs, and to cleaning the place. The copper pots were shiny again as they should be and the ashes had been cleared from the fireplace.

"Now for the best part of a Saturday," he announced.

"H-how do we do this?" Ingeburg asked doubtfully. "Do you want to go first?"

"My mother and Enewalt bathed together. They helped each other, washing their hair and backs. I thought..."

"Oh!" Ingeburg gasped and swallowed. "I guess we can. I'm your wife, after all."

"Let us get ready then!" Pelle exclaimed, sensing that any delay would increase the awkwardness of the moment.

He emptied both steaming kettles into the tub and then ran to refill them in the creek. When he returned and put the filled kettles over the fire again, he noticed that Ingeburg was in the tub. She had used his absence to undress and climb in. He gave her a playful grin.

"What is this, Wife? Are you denying your charms to your wedded husband?"

Ingeburg blushed deeply. She answered with her head held low.

"My wedded husband has not shown much interest in my charms," she said almost inaudibly.

Suddenly, she found her chin in his huge hand forcing her to look up.

"That may change, Ingeburg. We are learning more about each other with each day that passes. I liked what I saw of you this week." When he continued, his voice was husky. "And I like what I see of you right now."

Ingeburg felt gooseflesh and the nipples on her boobs contracted. She stared into his eyes unwaveringly.

"I am yours to claim, Pelle."

"Aye, and that I shall before long!" Pelle exhaled.

With quick movements, he pulled the wool tunic over his head and dropped his pants. Ingeburg gasped again when she saw his erect member stand out from his hairy groin. The water splashed when Pelle climbed in and sat opposite Ingeburg. Out of necessity his legs and her legs touched under the water and Ingeburg's breathing became short.

Reaching out with his long arm Pelle retrieved a bar of crude soap and a wash rag and proceeded to soap and scrub his upper torso, his neck and face. That done, he dunked his head under the water, wetting his shoulder length hair.

"Will you wash it for me?" he asked Ingeburg.

Ingeburg hesitated. Both her hands and arms were occupied covering her breasts. Pelle made it easier for her, turning around and sitting with his back towards her. Ingeburg grabbed the soap bar and worked up a lather in his hair. He groaned his approval when she worked her fingers over his scalp, whilst he kept his eyes covered with the wash rag, to protect his eyes against the sting of the soap.

"I'm finished," Ingeburg finally announced. "Should I rinse it, too?"

"Please, yes," Pelle answered.

Ingeburg used her hands to ladle water over his head, rinsing out the soap. Once she was finished, she took a comb to straighten the hair and removed all tangles. Again, Pelle moaned with satisfaction as she dragged the teeth of the comb over his scalp.

"Thank you," he finally exhaled. "That was nice. Now, it's your turn."

He turned around and made a twirling motion with his hand meaning for Ingeburg to turn her back to him. Shrugging inwardly Ingeburg obeyed. She meant to keep her arms crossed over her breasts, but Pelle gave her the wash rag to cover her eyes. She knew she had to do it, and when Pelle started rinsing and lathering her hair she tried to keep one hand with the rag over her eyes and the other arm covering her breasts.

Gradually she relaxed under his gentle ministrations. His hands massaging her scalp felt just too good and she leant back into him inadvertently. When he scooped the tepid water over her head to rinse the soap from her hair, Ingeburg had to use both hands to cover her eyes, but she tried to keep her chest covered using her elbows. Pelle chuckled softly behind her.

"I'm done. You want me to comb it?"

Ingeburg nodded and took the wash rag off her eyes. Pelle used his strong hands to squeeze as much water as possible from her hair. Then he used the comb to untangle her long tresses. He was both thorough and gentle, Ingeburg found. She used the time whilst he was busy with her hair to wash her torso. She was self-conscious washing her breasts or lifting her arms to clean her arm pits, but it had to be done.

When Pelle announced that he was done with her hair, Ingeburg rose from her squatting position to her knees and quickly washed her crotch. Pelle did the same, and they were both done at the same time.

"Do you want to soak some more?" he asked. "There is more hot water in the kettles."

"I'd like that," Ingeburg replied shyly. "My hair won't dry though if I don't get out."

"Stand then. I'll pour some warm water over you, to rinse off the soap."

Pelle left the tub and brought a kettle from the fireplace. He poured water over Ingeburg's front. Then he made her turn and hold up her hair whilst he rinsed away the soap from her backside. Stepping into the tub again, he handed the much lighter kettle to Ingeburg who did the same service for him. Thus clean and rinsed they wrapped old, thin blankets around their bodies to dry off.

A rich soup of split peas and grain had been simmering in the back of the fireplace, and they ate soup and fresh bread for a delicious and filling supper. After supper and cleaning up they laid out their Sunday best clothes for attending Holy Mass on the next morning. Using the tepid bath water, Ingeburg washed out the clothes they had worn over the week, and Pelle wrung the water from the wet cloth before they hung the pieces out to dry. Pelle then pulled a cork stop, and the water from the tub ran out, along a drain and through the wall to the outside.

It had been a busy day, and Ingeburg felt tired enough to drop onto her cot. However, when she started for the ladder to the loft, Pelle stayed her with a motion of his hand. He pushed aside the empty bath tub and lifted a floor board with the tip of his knife. She saw him nestle with some cloth package. Then he replaced the floor board and pushed the tub back in place.

She looked at him expectantly when he joined her at the table, holding something wrapped in clean linen.

"You are now my wife, Ingeburg. Before we go to Mass tomorrow, I want you to have this. My mother wore it, my father's mother, and my grandfather's mother before her. I hope that if we'll have a son, his wife will wear it too. Take good care of this. My mother would have rather sold her body than part with this."

Ingeburg opened the proffered bundle gingerly. She gasped in surprise. There was a heavy gold cross with a chain to wear around the neck. She lifted it up carefully, immediately aware of its great value. It weighed six or seven ounces easily. She looked it over. There were letters all over it, finely carved into the smooth, polished surface.

"What do those letters say?" she asked looking up.

"They say, 'Meo vasallus fidelissimus, Hubertus.' It's Latin. A priest tranlated it for my father. It means, 'For my most faithful vassal, Hubertus.' It seems that my great-grandfather held a position of great trust for the Baron's ancestors."

"You want me to wear this?"

Pelle nodded and Ingeburg swallowed hard to overcome her emotions. Her eyes were moist when she finally spoke again.

"I shall guard this with my life and I thank you for your trust. I'll never disappoint you, I swear!"

"I trust you shan't, Ingeburg. If we ever want to be man and wife we have to trust either the other."

Heavy tears rolled down over Ingeburg's cheeks. "You are too good to me," she declared with a wavering voice. "I have naught to offer in return, save for my body. Will you make me yours tonight? I want to be your wife, now and forever. Please?"

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "I want to, believe me, but isn't it too early?"

"Pelle, please take me. I don't want to wait. I want us to be husband and wife. Now."

He took a deep breath. "Stand up, Ingeburg," he spoke in a voice cracking with suppressed desire.

She complied, and he fastened the chain with the golden cross around her neck. Ingeburg looked up into his eyes.

"You're no poor man, are you?"

"I never said I was," he answered, a trace of gruff back in his voice.

"I know. It's only that everybody thinks you're a dirt poor, uncouth forest dweller."

"Again, not my fault. People don't speak to me, so they can't find out."

"I know," she sighed. "Will you tell me more about you? On the drive to Mass? I must learn more about my husband so that I shan't ever hurt his feelings again."

"We can do that, Ingeburg. I like to know more of you, too. Now let us go to bed."

Taking her hand he led her up the steep ladder to the loft. In the dancing light of the oil lamp Ingeburg's hair looked like spun gold pouring over her shoulders and back. Looking at Pelle intently she let the blanket glide off her shoulders and stood naked in front of him.

Whatever restraint Pelle might have possessed evaporated in a heartbeat at the sight of Ingeburg standing in front of the bed in all her naked glory. With one long step he was close enough to wrap her into his arms. She turned up her sweet face and with a hungry mouth Pelle began to kiss her full lips, their bodies mashing against the other. The blanket Pelle had wrapped around his hips succumbed to the grinding of their bodies and dropped to the floor boards.

Ingeburg gasped when his erection sprang up between them and slapped up between her legs. With her long legs her crotch was almost as high up as Pelle's member, and the hot rod of flesh was right where it belonged, rubbing the swollen lips of her sex. Raising on her toes she was able to trap it in its entirety, and her hips started to undulate. She sighed with the feel of her man's member rubbing all along her opening.

With a deep growl, Pelle lifted her body and laid her back on the bed. A heartbeat later he hovered over her prone form and his lips sought and found Ingeburg's proud breasts. She squealed when his mouth closed over one puffy nipple, sucking and licking. He let his mouth trail down on her body, his tongue exploring her belly button, causing Ingeburg to squirm under him. She was ticklish and dissolved in helpless giggles under his probing tongue. Those giggles turned into a piercing scream when he blew a resounding raspberry on her taut tummy. With flailing arms and legs she tried to push his mouth from her sensitive skin.

He let her push him down, down where he wanted to end up anyway. Ingeburg's scream ended as if a door had been slammed shut when she sensed his mouth touch her most private place, and she became stiff drawing rapid, shallow breaths. At first he planted innumerable small kisses on her downy haired mons veneris and on the inside of her thighs. Slowly her breathing became deeper again and she lifted her upper body up on her elbows to look down on him.

"Whatever are you doing?" she whispered reverently. "This feels so gooOOOD!"

She wailed when his tongue swiped all along her opening, from bottom to top. Those unspeakable sensations flooded over her, assaulting her senses with jolts of pleasure. She felt herself lifted, almost floating above the bed, and every fibre of her body focussed on Pelle's tongue as it touched and penetrated her nether lips, lashing the little nubbin, that secret centre of her lust.

Suddenly the tongue was gone and Ingeburg felt an aching emptiness in her core, but not for long. Pelle's face was up over hers and she felt and tasted his lips on her own. He tasted different she noted dimly, but before she could process that thought she felt something that made her dizzy. Something hot pressed against her inflamed opening, down between her legs, spreading those lips impossibly wide. Her eyes flew wide open at the realisation that this was the moment, the moment that would irrevocably make her a woman, Pelle's wife.

She felt a stinging pain and Pelle's progress into her opening was encountering her barrier, stretching that ring of skin at her entrance. She felt him withdraw by a finger's width, and she knew what came next. She held her breath and braced herself. Here it came! Driven by Pelle's strong loins that fleshy battering ram tore through the feeble barrier of virginal skin and she yelped with the stinging pain.

He held still immediately after gaining entrance and Ingeburg had a chance to take stock of the sensations. She felt stretched like never before and the torn maidenhood hurt fiercely. There was another feeling, though, a friction inside her that sent delicious ripples through her lower body. When Pelle's hips began a minuscule movement that feeling of friction intensified, taking away from the stinging pain she felt.

"The pain will be over soon, Ingeburg."

Pelle's lips were at her left ear as he whispered soothingly. She felt a delicious shiver run down her spine. He pressed on. Ingeburg felt even more stretched and the nice feelings came from deeper within her. He withdrew slightly and pushed back in. She felt that he had gained another finger's width of penetration. The stinging pain was now almost gone, but the delicious friction became stronger with each finger width Pelle gained. His manhood felt impossibly deep inside her, stretching her wide and giving her a new feeling of fullness.

The wiry hair around the base of his manhood tickled her nubbin once he was completely seated in her, further adding delicious tingles to the sensation of fullness she felt. Her breathing was laboured now and her hips met his thrusts on their own volition.

"You ... are ... tight! So tight!" she heard Pelle groan.

The urgency in his voice translated into more forceful thrusts, thrusts she received with abandon, spreading wide her thighs to take as much of him as possible. She greeted each penetration with a moan of her own, and when he increased the speed of his hips, when he began to pound her forcefully, her voice rose into a crescendo of cries and moans until Pelle finally shouted out his lust.

"Here! Here it comes!"

The meat rod inside her started to pulse, and a wave of warmth spread from her fanny and over her stomach and chest. It reached her face and then the seat of her mind was rushed by the blinding heat. She heard herself cry from afar, she heard Pelle's shouts as his pelvis mashed into her, but somehow she felt detached from her body for a spell.

When she finally regained her wits, Pelle was still slumped over her, but his manhood inside her did not stretch her anymore. Pelle's eyes opened and focussed on her. He took a deep breath.

"How do you feel, Ingeburg?" he asked her with concern in his voice.

"The pain is gone and I'm sort of numb in places. But I feel, I don't know how to say it, fulfilled?"

"I suppose I fully filled you," Pelle chuckled.

Ingeburg's eyes widened. "I may be with your child," she said with awe in her voice.

"Maybe not yet, but we can try again and again until you are."

"Was I good?" she asked shyly.

His answer was a long, soft kiss. He lifted himself off her body and lay down at her side, pulling her against himself. He kissed her some more and she responded eagerly.

"Ingeburg," he started hesitantly. "A few days ago I could not fathom lying next to you like this. I ... I guess you could say that I hated you, or I hated who I thought you were. I was afraid of you too. Now, I hold you in my arms and I never want to let you go."

Ingeburg pressed her forehead into his neck. With her face against his chest, she almost whispered.

"When the Baron made me marry you, I didn't say 'aye'. I wanted to say 'I won't', but the drunk fool of a priest didn't let me finish. When you brought me here I was terribly afraid. Of you, of the forest, of the life out here. I feared you would mount me roughly, beat me, and mayhap kill me out of spite. I know now that you are a good man, strong but gentle and caring. I know that you work hard for an honest living. I find this cabin, this clearing in the forest far less frightening. I find the prospect of spending my life with you not frightening at all. You just broke my maidenhood, yet I cannot wait for you to mount me again. This is how I feel right now. More may come when we know each other better, but today I care for you and long for your gentle touches."

"I thank you for being so honest. I was afraid too. I feared your tongue, your haranguing, every day for the rest of my life. I know now that you are not the terrible shrew I took you for. I care for you, Ingeburg. Mayhap, the Baron in his zest to spite your mother did something good for me."

"For us. How come you think and speak so well, Pelle?" Ingeburg asked.

"Oh, my father was the caretaker for the lands of Tosdalen Abbey. Many evenings, the learned monks would come visit. I picked up their ways of speaking. Later, with Enewalt, I still had my mother who saw to it that I spoke properly. These days I hold intercourse with the Jewish traders of whom many are learned men."

"I like that in you. It is good to speak about what we feel. Of course, my mother made me speak properly, too, so I would find a good husband. That is something I do not feel bad about."

"Yes, it is good to have somebody to speak to. I rarely had a chance in those last years. Hardly anybody in the village would speak to me and I was alone out here most of the time."

"You have me now," Ingeburg answered seriously, lifting her face to look at him.

He kissed her and the young woman snuggled close to his naked body. To her brief dismay, Pelle freed himself from her hug to climb down the ladder. He returned with a buck leather wash rag. He cleaned away the almost dried blood from Ingeburg's thighs and from her crotch.

"You are sweet," she mumbled, already half asleep, when he spread a blanket over both of them, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

°°°

The early mornings in the forest were quiet. There was no rooster to greet the sunrise, no cows demanding a milking. Only a few birds could be heard. Ingeburg lay still in their bed trying not to wake her husband. She needed to think a little. The last evening had been a revelation for the young woman. The lust she had felt surprised her. Her mother had told her of the ways to make the coupling pleasurable for the man, but she had failed to mention that women too could derive such bliss from a coupling.

Ingeburg shifted a little to have a better look at her husband. He had a good face she thought, and what she saw of his body made her fanny tingle again. Suddenly, his eyes opened and Ingeburg smiled at him.

"Good morrow, my husband."

"Good morrow, sweet wife," he greeted her back. "How do you feel?"

Ingeburg flexed a few muscles and moved her hips. There was some minor discomfort where she had been opened the night before and her thigh muscles were sore. She grinned wryly.

"Give me time until tonight, Pelle, and I'll have you again."

He grinned back and let his hand smack her naked bottom.

"If this is how it is going to be, get up and prepare breakfast!"

Ingeburg gasped. For a heartbeat she felt hurt before she saw his wide grin.

"Yes, oh my manly husband!" she mocked him back. "Is is oatmeal that you request?"

He kissed her deeply. When he released her, she felt dizzy.

"It is you I desire, but if I can't taste your fanny I shall settle grudgingly for oatmeal."

Ingeburg shivered at his words. She suddenly remembered the lust she had felt when his mouth had feasted on her. Pelle looked into her eyes and chuckled.

"I still may have both to break my fast," he said.

He pulled her up from the bed, stark naked as she was, and made her climb down the ladder. Still completely naked they rekindled the banked fire, and when they had it going Pelle showed her the the oatmeal sack. Ingeburg started to boil water whilst Pelle let his hands caress her buttocks and her thighs.

When the liquid started to boil and Ingeburg measured a cup of oatmeal, Pelle knelt behind her. He pulled her cheeks apart with both hands and whilst Ingeburg bent over the fireplace and the pot stirring the contents, Pelle started to lick and probe her fanny from behind. Even the simple task of stirring the pot was almost too much for Ingeburg when his tongue started to worm its way between her tender nether lips. She pressed her backside against Pelle's face trying to give his tongue the best access, and Pelle rewarded her, fuelling her lust with his lips and tongue.

Suddenly Pelle let go of her fanny and stood. Ingeburg wanted to moan in frustration but a heartbeat later she felt her husbands member nudge between the lips of her fanny. With slow, gentle thrusts, he forced the head of his member past her tight opening.

"Ooooh!" Ingeburg exhaled.

The penetrating shaft seemed to force the air from her lungs. In this position the penetration seemed much deeper than the night before. His hands gently tweaked her sensitive breasts and he began a slow, deep pounding. Soon, Ingeburg lost herself in the rhythm pressing back against him and closing her eyes in the bliss she felt.

"Keep stirring, you'll burn the oatmeal," he chuckled pounding away at her.

It was torture for Ingeburg to keep stirring the pot whilst her own pot was being stirred so thoroughly. The tension was too high though for Pelle to maintain this for long. With long, deep strokes he drove his member deep inside her just as his semen shot forth. Ingeburg felt the urgency, felt the pulsing of the rod inside her and she felt the walls of her fanny contract around the invader. A big wave of lust washed over her, and she almost tried to support herself on the hot iron grid of the fire place. She caught herself in time, though, putting the hands against the wall behind. She felt the heat from the glowing embers beneath against her body and pushed herself back into the comfort of Pelle's arms.

Still lodged inside her he made her take the pot with the oatmeal and marched her to the table. He managed to get seated with an Ingeburg in his lap who was still impaled on his member. Alternating between kissing, feeding his wife with oatmeal and eating himself, he continued to grind his pelvis against her from below. He seemed not to have lost his hardness at all. They ate and kissed and fucked until the pot was empty.

At this point Ingeburg felt like a boneless, skewered mass of quivering flesh reverberating with each thrust from below. She dimly noticed that Pelle swept the pot off the table and then she was lifted up and found herself on her back. She was lying on the table with Pelle between her legs pounding away at her. Her breasts jiggled on her chest almost painfully whilst the pounding shook her. She wanted to scream with the lust she felt, but she was so breathless that only whimpers escaped her. That shortness of breath increased until she feared to suffocate. It was a delicious feeling though and she almost welcomed it, but now Pelle reached his peak.

With two, three, four powerful thrusts, he emptied himself into her. Ingeburg had no strength left in her to scream or moan; she just whimpered as the dizziness overwhelmed her and her eyesight failed.

Ingeburg came to being cradled in Pelle's arms. He was sitting on the bench again and held her in his lap rocking her gently. Her vision still blurry she stared at him.

"What happened?" she whispered weakly.

"You passed out a little. Just sit a while longer and recover."

Drawing a deep breath she let her eyes survey the scene, the pot on the wooden floor boards, the big puddle on the table. She looked into Pelle's face, a weak smile on her lips.

"No more oatmeal for you!"

They had a belated start for Lemdalen. Ingeburg's backside and her fanny were tender from the pounding she had received, yet she was glowing with deep satisfaction. She was a woman, a woman who was coveted by her husband, and now they were going to Mass as husband and wife for all the village to see.

They entered the village with the small church bell ringing already and Pelle drove up close to the village square where he hitched the donkey to a small tree that was surrounded by a patch of grass. The donkey was content with this and started to graze immediately whilst Pelle helped Ingeburg from the wagon. Instead of stepping down, Ingeburg sank against his chest first and slid down his front, her arms around his neck.

"I see you two have made up?" a voice interrupted them. It was Tjark, Ingeburg's stepbrother and Pelle's friend.

Ingeburg smiled shyly and nodded. Pelle grinned.

"She's not so bad once you know her," he stated with a straight face.

Tjark blushed at the double meaning but then he grinned back. "I wouldn't know her like that," he answered.

"Ingeburg?" a voice suddenly sounded from behind and Ingeburg turned to see her erstwhile friend, Luise.

"Yes?" she answered cautiously.

"I'm sorry we were so mean last Sunday," the girl said. "I ... I feel really bad, I do. Can you forgive me and be my friend again?"

Ingeburg swallowed heavily. This was unexpected. But then she thought of the last night, thought about what she felt for Pelle, and she gave Luise a smile.

"I can forgive you, Luise. We have always been friends. You were mean, yes, but I was also mean at times."

She held open her arms and the grateful Luise rushed to hug her. Ingeburg held her at a distance first.

"Luise, you must know that I am not alone anymore. I have a husband. If you want my friendship you must be friendly and respectful to Pelle too."

Luise swallowed remembering her last encounter with Pelle. She looked him over as if for the first time. There was really nothing wrong with him. His reddish hair framed a good face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose. His eyes were a lively blue under bushy brows. For the first time she asked herself why people badmouthed him.

"If you can forgive my bad behaviour, Pelle, I would ask for your friendship," she heard herself say.

"I shan't begrudge my wife a friend," Pelle answered. "Let bygones be bygones. I'll only judge you by your future deeds."

"Thank you! I cannot ask for more," Luise smiled.

She was very pretty when she smiled, Pelle decided. He wanted to say something friendly to her, but now Hunold was approaching with Greta on his arm. It was a Greta whom Pelle hardly recognised. Her gaze was empty as if she was sleeping with open eyes, and her lips moved with silent words. He felt Ingeburg's hand squeeze his arm and he cupped it sensing his young wife's dismay.

"Mother?" Ingeburg asked timidly but the woman did not even look up.

"She isn't herself," Hunold said heavily. "When I came back on Monday after visiting you, she was like this. She's gone stark crazy."

Pelle put his arm around Ingeburg's shoulder.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hunold," he said in a low voice. "You know I wasn't friends with Greta, but this is something I would not wish for anybody."

"I hope she'll snap out of it," Hunold sighed.

Ingeburg tried again. She touched Greta's arm. "Mother, it's me, Ingeburg!"

Greta looked up, but then she made a grimace of fear and tore her arm away from Ingeburg's touch.

"Mother!" Ingeburg wailed, but the woman shrank back from her.

"It's useless," Hunold sighed. "Give her time to come to her senses again."

He led the poor lunatic into the church and Pelle followed holding Ingeburg tight. Ingeburg made an effort to walk tall as he could see. He looked his question at her.

"They must not think I am unhappy with my husband," Ingeburg whispered.

As they walked along the aisle, a snide voice sounded from the pews. "Oh, look! It's the Collier's wife! Make room, ye lowly commoners!"

It was Margrite, the other of Ingeburg's friends. She was sitting with other young people, and they snickered audibly at the taunt. Ingeburg stood tall and turned, making sure that the large golden cross showed on her chest.

"You can make fun of me all you want, Margrite. I have no complaints, and the next time the Baron visits, I shall thank him for finding me a good husband." She looked at two of the young men. "Bartel, Nithart, I am sorry that you thought you had to fight over me. It is true: I was mean and a snoot. I hope that you will forgive me one day."

With that she turned back to Pelle and together they found seating in the pew behind Hunold and Greta. People were looking at them and whispering, but not for long. Lemdalen's newly appointed priest, Father Ortwinus, entered from the side entrance beside the altar and the Holy Mass commenced.

They sat through the service aware of the stares directed at them. Pelle was accustomed to being the outsider, but today was different. The men in the church looked at him with something akin to respect. Suddenly, he realised the reason. For all they knew, he had tamed the shrew Ingeburg. For all they knew or suspected, he had probably beaten and raped her into submission, and that in their view deserved at least grudging respect.

At the end of the service, Father Ortwinus walked along the aisle to where they sat.

"I believe your wedding on Sunday last was lacking in form and dignity?" he asked them.

Raising his brow, Pelle nodded.

"Please step out. Let us hear you speak your vows in front of this parish. Let us pray for a happy marriage and bestow the Lord's blessing on your joining in a proper way and becoming of the seriousness of the occasion."

Slightly apprehensive they stepped out of the pew and followed the priest to the altar. Father Ortwinus then proceeded to perform a proper wedding ceremony, asking them the questions, hearing out their answers, and giving them a proper blessing at the end. The villagers were surprised at the conviction with which Ingeburg spoke her 'Aye' this time, and at the love-filled gaze she gave her husband. Likewise, Pelle's smile when he regarded Ingeburg was noticed and excited whisper erupted as the villagers commented on this unlikely couple.

A smiling Hunold led them out of the church confessing that he had set up the new priest to conduct a proper wedding. Unlike their first wedding, Pelle and Ingeburg stood in front of the church and received the good wishes of those who cared to speak to them. Rudlo the Smith and his wife Hedwig were among those, as was Tymo and the tavern landlord. Tjark hugged his stepsister, and even her older stepbrother, Hanke, solemnly shook both Pelle's and Ingeburg's hands.

Tables were set in front of Hunold's house for the family and for their friends, and Hunold had sacrificed a hog for the occasion. Fresh ham pastries and other delicacies adorned the tables, and Lute, the crazy old farm hand, played the shawm. On Ingeburg's insistence Luise was also invited and she sat with Tjark who did not seem to mind that very much.

The good food was eaten with much appetite and more than once the guests raised their mugs to the health of Pelle and Ingeburg. In fact, the joyous mood even drove away Ingeburg's sadness over her mother's state and she began to smile again. It was only later when they drove home in their new, horse-drawn wagon, that Ingeburg felt the sadness return.

The wagon was Hunold's dowry for his stepdaughter. It was a sturdy vehicle, with large, spoked wheels and strong axles. There was a bench at the front and behind it, the carpenter had erected high, wooden side panels, allowing for a large load of coal or other lightweight freight. Hanke and Tjark had laughingly lifted Pelle's donkey cart into the wagon bed, and the old donkey was tied to the rear of the wagon. It was a valuable dowry for Pelle given his need to ship his coal to the buyers and he had thanked Hunold profusely.

In his mind Pelle was already planning a corral for the horse and a lean-to for it to spend the snowy winter months. Still, whilst making such plans, he made sure to hug his young wife close to him, and she responded by cuddling to his side. Arriving at the cabin Pelle unhitched the horses and released the donkey whilst Ingeburg carried the gifts they had received into their dwelling. Their friends had not begrudged them wedding gifts and Ingeburg's mind was taken off her mother's condition whilst she found room for them.

When Pelle entered the cabin Ingeburg had already rekindled the fire and water was heating up for a herb tea. They were not hungry after the rich food they had enjoyed but they sat in front of the cabin, sipping hot tea for a while and watching the sun set behind the treetops that lined the clearing.

"I'm sorry for your mother. You know that I never saw her as friend, but it grieves me to see you so sad," Pelle told her.

In response Ingeburg sat closer to him, her head against his shoulder.

"She has been acting strange and weird for quite some time," she said. "She wasn't that bad when I was a child. I can hardly remember living in Birkenhain. My memories start with living in Hunold's house and for a while, my mother was trying to be a good wife for him. Really. I think her strangeness started when I had my first bleeding. That's when she started to talk about finding a good husband for me, and my 'rightful place' in the castle. She was my mother. I had no reason or excuse not to believe her. I became – what do they call me – 'the Princess'. I talked down to people believing them to be beneath me. Margrite and Luise were the only friends my mother allowed me. She said they'd be my future waiting ladies. How silly this sounds now!"

"Did you notice the looks I got from the men?" Pelle answered. "They showed me respect, almost for the first time. Methinks they believe that I somehow tamed you, beat you into obedience. Nobody will believe that all it took was to treat you as a grown woman. Your mother kept you a girl all the time, without tasks, without a purpose other than turning men's heads. Once you had something to do your good side came through."

Ingeburg laughed at that.

"I saw those looks too, but I don't think they believe you beat me. Methinks they believe you used your manhood to poke me into obedience. I have heard those comments a few times. They did not mean for me to hear them, but some young men said that I needed my snootiness pounded out of me."

Pelle smiled. "Somewhere I heard that too, but I never thought it would be me to whom that task would fall, nor that it would be so pleasurable." He stood and pulled Ingeburg to her feet. "Let's turn in. I believe we had our proper wedding today. Let us have a proper wedding night then."

Ingeburg's mother was forgotten for the moment when she looked at her husband with a sparkle in her eyes.

"You are right, my husband. I believe there is some leftover snootiness that needs to be pounded out of me."

Pelle's roaring laughter filled the entire clearing and Ingeburg had a warm feeling knowing that it was she who was responsible for his boisterous mood. Still, she shrieked dutifully when he threw her over his shoulder and carried her up the ladder to throw her over the bed. After that, more shrieks could be heard but they were soon replaced by Ingeburg's moaning as the last remnants of snootiness were driven out of her.



-------

Chapter 7: How The Black Man Ravishes Ingeburg

Pelle rose from the bed when the first sun rays shone over the trees. Awakened by his movements, Ingeburg looked at him as he put on buckskin pants, a wool shirt, and a leather vest. He pulled on boots too and took one of his new longbows from a peg and a quiver with arrows.

"Whereto so early, Pelle?" she asked sleepily.

He came back to the bed and gave her a kiss.

"I'm off to hunt deer, Ingeburg. We're running short of meat, and the Baron allows me a deer each month now. A young buck or a doe will make a fine roast, and we can smoke the rest."

"How long will you be? Shall I prepare a noon meal?"

"I hope to be back by noon, but I can't tell for sure."

"Do you have something to break fast?"

He held up a knapsack.

"I have some bread. Wish me luck, Wife!"

She kissed him for luck, and off he was. With the stealth of a practised woodsman, Pelle made his way north. He knew of a clearing, deep in the forest, where roe deer often stood in the morning hours, and thereto he was heading. It had been a good two moons since he had hunted last, and he was eager to test his new bow. The yew staff required more power than his old ash bow but Pelle was a strong man. A few test shots had shown him that his accuracy did not suffer under the greater power of the new bow and he guessed that he gained half again over his old range.

Closing in on the grassy open he moved with great care. He tested the wind and redirected his approach so that he went against it. It was luck that he did. When he reached the tree line he suddenly found himself just thirty paces away from a small herd. The buck carried three-pointed antlers and was in his prime. There were seven does and eight or nine fawns in the group, and a young buck was grazing at the fringes, always keeping an eye on the dominant buck.

While Pelle watched the small herd and readied his bow and arrows, the old buck chose to prance forward driving the young buck away and, incidentally, closer to where Pelle was hiding. Pelle would have liked to test his new bow at larger distance but this was a good opportunity, too good to be wasted.

With smooth, practised moves he notched a broadhead arrow and pulled back. Allowing for a flatter trajectory due to the greater speed imparted by the new bow, Pelle aimed lower than was his custom and let fly. A new arrow was on the string before he looked at his prey. The young buck was still standing, but only barely. It tottered back and forth with the arrow deep in his chest behind the shoulder. Then, very slowly, the mortally wounded animal sank down on its fore knees before it collapsed dropping to its right side.

The rest of the herd was already fleeing with the big old buck in the lead and Pelle stepped out from the underbrush. He pulled his long hunting knife and slit the throat of the buck to let it bleed out. He also cut away the scent glands near the anus and made an incision to recover his arrow. While he watched the animal bleeding out, he ate some of the bread he had brought. Then he shouldered his prey and headed homeward to his cabin. He was very pleased with the outcome. While not as tender as a doe, the buck yielded more meat and a larger skin. The antlers, too, would come in handy as hefts for various tools.

In spite of the load on his shoulders he made good speed on his way back to the cabin and it was a long way from noon when he entered the clearing. From afar he could see that Ingeburg was busy doing laundry in the creek and he smiled. She really wasn't a bad girl. She tried her best to do her part, and even if she lacked a few skills he was certain that she would eventually overcome her upbringing.

In the bed she already surpassed Pelle's wildest dreams. She was beautiful, yes, but there was more. Her eagerness to please and be pleased was astounding in a girl so young and inexperienced, and she gave herself to him with complete abandon. Just thinking of her naked body made his member swell.

She saw him as he approached and shielded her eyes against the sun, obviously ready to bolt for the cabin. Pelle was pleased with her cautious reaction. When she was sure it was him however, she dropped her laundry and came running. He dropped the buck off his shoulders and opened his arms just as she threw herself at him.

"You're back already! And you were lucky, too! I'll pick some berries to go along with the venison."

Pelle smiled at her childlike joy. She was but seventeen years old he reminded himself, and he could hardly expect the stolidness of a matron in her. He hugged her tightly and gave her a long kiss. Her eyes were smouldering when he let go.

"I need to butcher the buck," he said with regret in his voice. "The skin needs curing too. We'll have to wait until tonight."

Ingeburg looked at little dismayed. "I'm sorry, I did not mean..."

"I wanted it, too, Ingeburg," Pelle told her giving her another kiss.

Ingeburg nodded. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, did you learn to butcher?"

"No, I wasn't allowed."

It hurt Pelle to see her obvious dismay over her lack of skills, and he touched her cheek. "I'll teach you, don't worry."

That afternoon, Pelle taught Ingeburg the use of a skinning knife. He also showed her how to sharpen a knife, how to cut a buck open, how to gut it, and how to cut it into the various parts. He showed her what the covered bucket with urine was good for. The stale urine turned into ammonia, and that was used to cure animal skins. The skin of the buck was submerged in the smelly fluid.

The legs of the buck were hung into the flue of the fireplace for smoking, while the rump was hung from hooks to keep until Saturday. The guts were emptied and washed. Pelle had Ingeburg cut the lesser meat and the fat into small pieces. They were mixed and mashed, filled in sections of cleaned gut, and hung into the smoke of the fireplace, too. It took them all afternoon to process the animal.

The liver, sliced and covered with flour, was fried with onions and apples for their supper, and they both enjoyed the delicious treat. True to his word, Pelle made love to Ingeburg that evening and they slept wrapped in each other's arms.

Pelle spent the next morning hauling more wood to the pile. He planned to fire it the next week, and there was still much to do. Ingeburg's day was spent roasting the meat from the buck over the fire place. Ingeburg also collected berries from the forest, and she heated them with sweet syrup and bone extract to yield a solid jam.

They went to bed early that evening, and once again they melted into each other's arms and consummated their marriage. It was astounding how well they were attuned to each other already. Pelle had always wondered how Greta had been able to ensnare the former Baron, being an all around disagreeable woman herself. However, if her skills as a lover had been anything like Ingeburg's, Pelle could see how her less desirable character traits could have been overlooked.

There was nothing unpleasant about Ingeburg. She woke Pelle with a cup of steaming mint tea on Wednesday morning, and while he drank the tasty liquid she fondled his member to a rampant erection. Soon her shift went flying and she straddled his hips impaling herself on his prick and squealing with happiness over her feat.

Pelle let her do as she pleased, for once restraining himself to a passive role. It was just as well, for Ingeburg proved that she had been an attentive apprentice over the first week of their marriage. She rode them both to a shared peak and afterwards she cuddled herself to her husband's chest purring contentedly. Pelle chuckled softly and she lifted herself up looking into his eyes.

"What is it you laugh about, Husband?"

"The Baron and his followers. Think of how they jeered at us! How will they be disappointed when they will see us hand in hand as a loving couple!"

Ingeburg thought about that and smiled. Then she sobered and shook her head.

"I admit it is funny, but I cannot really care. What I learned to feel for you is beyond their understanding anyway. I don't need their envy to be happy." She grinned. "That does not mean I will not show my love for you!"

She gave him a long, fiery kiss to which he responded in kind. Then she jumped from the bed and climbed down from the platform to start the fire and to prepare food for breakfast. After that, they both worked together on the kiln until after noon when they had some buttered bread.

In the afternoon, they collected the dregs from his last coal pile. It was still a sizeable load, more than he could have transported in his donkey cart. He and Ingeburg would ride to Birkenhain on Thursday for the last delivery before he would fire his new pile. For the first time Ingeburg was covered in coal dust and Pelle regarded her with a smile. At first, she was at a loss, but then she remembered and blushed fiercely.

"Don't feel bad anymore, Ingeburg!" Pelle hastened to tell her. "It's forgotten."

She hugged him then, coal dust or no coal dust, and kissed him fiercely. Then her eyes took on a certain gleam.

"Now you are Pelle the Collier as I always saw you, sooty and black of face, not washed and groomed. Take me now, Pelle, take me and make me the collier's wife, with coal dust and all. I want the 'Black Man' to take possession of me here and now!"

"You're a black woman yourself," he grinned, more than a little aroused already.

Her white teeth were gleaming in her blackened face and her blue eyes shone like beacons. In those old clothes, dirty and with dishevelled hair, Ingeburg suddenly looked like his mother when she was helping Enewalt. The thought, disturbing as it was, further stoked his desire. With one long step he stood close to Ingeburg and made her turn. A sawhorse was close and Pelle made Ingeburg bend over it. She complied and squealed when he lifted her skirt revealing her inviting behind. His hand left black marks when he swatted her buttocks and he felt Ingeburg tremble in his hold. She turned her head to look up at him pleadingly.

"Take me now, please!" she almost whimpered.

With one hand he opened his codpiece and freed his member. Ingeburg's opening was slick already and in one swift movement Pelle forced his stiff member into her yielding flesh.

"Aaarhaa!" she wailed pressing her buttocks against him. "So big!"

That was all it took to make him lose control. With a hoarse cry he began to pound into Ingeburg. For the first time he took her roughly, fucking away at her with abandon. His hips blurred with the speed of his pounding and Ingeburg's wails turned into hoarse cries of her own, uttered in the staccato enforced by his pounding. Not for long could he maintain his relentless pounding, for soon he felt his semen boil in his balls and he unloaded while pressing deep into Ingeburg's core.

Ingeburg's cries turned into incoherent sobs as she felt his spurting member jerk deep inside her womb. A wave of heat washed over her and she was grateful for the support of the sawhorse. When she caught her breath again she half turned to look at Pelle who was still hovering over her.

"Now I am truly yours," she stated still panting.

She squealed when Pelle bent forward and gently bit her neck, and a shudder rippled through her.

"Yes, you are mine, my Black Woman. Come now, help me to fill the tub."

Together, they filled the kettles over the fire and filled the tub with more water from the creek while the water was heating up. A half hour later found the young couple horsing around in the bathtub. They washed each other, true, but there was a lot more touching than was necessary just for cleaning. Afterwards they had a venison stew with roots and cracked grains.

The excitement of the impending trip to Birkenhain kept Ingeburg awake longer than usual. Pelle found her naive excitement endearing. He did not complain about her babble that was only interrupted for the heated kisses she gave him whenever her excitement boiled over. Sometime long after sundown Ingeburg finally wound down and cuddled to Pelle's chest in her now customary position, with one arm and one leg thrown over her husband's body.

They slept naked now and Ingeburg's cuddle pressed her lap against Pelle's thigh all night. When Pelle woke up, he felt and smelt her wetness all over his upper leg. When Pelle stirred she mewled softly, pressing herself even closer to him and rubbing her wet crotch on his thigh in small circles. He held still while his excitement grew as his young wife acted out her unconscious desire. Her breathing became more laboured with each circle of her sex on his thigh, and her hand on his chest started to squeeze his muscles.

Suddenly her eyes popped open and she became aware of her actions. A deep blush shot into her cheeks and she started to disentangle herself, but Pelle would have none of that. Gently but firmly he took her face between both hands and kissed her hard. With his tongue deep in her mouth she squealed softly and began to rub herself against his leg again. Pelle let go of her mouth and pulled her on top.

"I have something better for you against which to rub," he advised her with a saucy grin.

Ingeburg nodded silently, her blue eyes smouldering with passion, and she moved around until his stiff member was aligned with her sopping wet opening. With one swift movement she impaled herself and exhaled with a shuddering sob. Her tight canal fluttered around his member, the ripples sending waves of lust through his body.

"You are something else," he managed to say with barely concealed admiration.

Ingeburg was unlike any woman he had ever bedded. True, some of the wenches in the Red Cockerel had enjoyed the swiving. Some even gave him a feeling of closeness when they cuddled with him. With Ingeburg it was vastly more. Her craving for his touch, her reverie of his penetration, her unadulterated lust, and her blissful acceptance of his seed made him realise what he had missed before. A thought bubbled up and before he was aware of it he blurted it out.

"I have come to love you, my wife, more than life itself!"

Ingeburg stopped in mid-stride, looking down at him with wonder in her eyes.

"You have?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. He nodded.

"And I love you, my husband. I never thought I'd find so much happiness in my life. Bless the Baron for giving me to you!" Her blue eyes turned dark again. "Now, let us finish what we started. I cannot wait to bear your children, Pelle!"

She began a soft, rocking motion, with his member deeply embedded in her sex, her split opening rubbing against the wiry hair at the base of Pelle's cock. Her young breasts stood proudly on her chest and they barely swayed when she moved up and down. Pelle's hands were magically drawn to those treasures, his rough fingers touching them with reverence, and his palms rubbing over her protruding nipples.

"I love that," she sighed still rocking on his pole, now however with more force. A sheen of sweat was forming on her forehead and a blush spread over her face and her chest. Pelle discovered something that had eluded him so far.

"You have freckles on your chest. I love that. You are so pretty, it almost hurts to look at you!"

"Stop that!" she scolded him, her blush intensifying. "Else I'll get a swelled head again."

"I know, I have a swelled head right now," Pelle replied lewdly, his loins jerking upwards and penetrating her more deeply.

"I can feel your swelled head," Ingeburg whispered. "Think it will burst soon?"

Pelle's eyes flew open. Ingeburg's cunt began to contract around his cock. It felt as if she were milking him and the effect was immediately.

"I'm spending!" he blurted as his hips jerked upwards.

Ingeburg responded by pressing down against him, taking him as deeply as possible. Her eyes were squeezed shut now, her nose scrunched, and she held her breath. Then, when she finally opened her mouth, her keening wail sounded through the cabin and beyond as she forced herself down on his jerking loins with all her might. Finally, when her voice gave out, she slumped forward over Pelle's chest, a boneless pile of quivering flesh.

"I'm so happy," she sighed after a while. "Don't ever leave me, Pelle!"

"How could I, sweet Ingeburg? You hold my heart in your hands. I feared that would happen once I let you close, but now I find that I like it."

"I cherish it and offer you mine in return," Ingeburg said, suddenly quite earnest. "Never fear that I might be fickle. I am yours alone."

"I trust you with my heart, sweet Wife," he answered equally sombre.

They lay side by side for a few more precious moments, but then it was time to begin the day.



-------

Chapter 8: How Pelle and Ingeburg Visit Friends


It was almost noontime when they approached the drawbridge over the water-filled moat that encircled the walled town of Birkenhain. The sentries knew Pelle, and the tale of how the poor collier had to marry the haughty daughter of Greta had made the rounds. At the gate, Pelle's friend, the Corporal Gebhardt, grinned at him.

"Holla, Collier!" he greeted Pelle. "How is married life for you?"

In spite of his mocking tone there was admiration in the soldier's eyes as he regarded Ingeburg.

"My life could scarcely be better, Gebhardt," Pelle answered cheerfully. "Ingeburg, this is Gebhardt, Corporal in the Baron's guard. I trust you have heard of Ingeburg, my friend?"

"Yes, I have. All in the castle have. They say, though..."

"I can imagine, friend," Pelle interrupted him. "Know you that Ingeburg is my dear wife. The Baron did me a great favour."

"And me!" Ingeburg spoke up for the first time.

"Good for you, Collier," Gebhardt laughed. "How the girls at the Red Cockerel will mourn your passing into Holy Matrimony!"

Pelle blushed at the taunt but kept his face straight. "As long as they have stout soldiers like you, Friend Gebhardt, they will console themselves no doubt!"

"A man can but do his best!" the guardsman grinned lewdly.

Pelle drove his cart along the market place while Ingeburg looked at him sideways.

"You have been seeing girls at the Red Cockerel? I have heard of the place."

Pelle was beet red but he answered truthfully. "Yes, I came here often. I was alone, and they were nice to me. Of course, I shan't go there anymore."

"Did you have a favourite?"

Pelle shook his head. "No, they were all friendly. Last time I was there, there was a new girl, Elsa. She is from the Duke's city, and she knows many tales to tell, but I was with her only once."

Pelle was glad that they reached the forge. The master smith came out to greet him, clearly curious to see the infamous Ingeburg.

"Here you are, Collier, and you brought your wife," he started and then stared. "Holy... ! This is the girl whom the Baron made you marry? And you wanted to refuse? Have you been drinking your wits away?"

"Master Tilke, this is Ingeburg, my wife," Pelle introduced. "And yes, my wits were failing me."

"I greet you, Master Tilke," Ingeburg added and gave the man a smile.

The worthy man just shook his head. "Collier, you are a fortunate man. Holla, Lads, unload the coal!"

The apprentices unloaded the wagon with far more willingness than was their custom Pelle found. Perhaps that was owed to Ingeburg's presence he thought with a grin.

When the unloading was finished, Pelle drove the wagon to the stable where he usually left his cart, and Pelle and Ingeburg began to stroll the market and the narrow alleys where the traders had their shops.

The visited the boot maker and Pelle placed an order for a pair of sturdy boots for Ingeburg. Ingeburg was touched by this obvious gesture of care and she pressed his hand to show her gratitude. They also visited a grain trader. With a saucy grin Ingeburg overruled Pelle's order of two pounds of oatmeal, asking for six pounds instead. The trader was nonplussed over Pelle's roaring laughter.

They also bought a bale of sturdy cloth, with yarn and new needles. Ingeburg had expressed her wish to make better clothes for Pelle and herself, and Pelle was happy to comply. The trader promised to send the goods to the rental stable.

The last visit was with Levy, the money lender. Pelle had no pressing business with Levy, but he had taken aside a few choice pieces of charcoal for Rebecca's healing potions. Levy was away from his shop but Rebecca was there.

A shadow showed on the pretty Jewess' face when she learned of Pelle's enforced marriage. The Jews of Birkenhain were not privy to the gossip of the castle, and Rebecca had not heard the tale yet. Her dark eyes were almost accusing when she regarded Ingeburg. Knowing of Pelle's friendship with the girl's father, Ingeburg was her friendliest though, and noticing her guest's effort Rebecca relented.

She still seemed sad. Her eyes lit up, though, when Pelle showed her the fine charcoal pieces he had saved for her. As a gesture of reconciliation towards Ingeburg she gave Pelle a bar of fine, rose scented soap in exchange.

At this moment, Levy returned. Learning of his visitors he rushed to greet them. Pelle took him aside to speak about some money issue, leaving Ingeburg and Rebecca alone.

"Pelle told me that you know traders of spice?" Ingeburg tried to start.

"Yes, my Uncle Avraham sells pepper, ginger, and other spices. You want I show you the way?"

"That is kind of you, Rebecca. I better tell Pelle first."

"Yes, you better do," Rebecca agreed.

She led Ingeburg through a corridor and into another room where Levy and Pelle were obviously speaking intently.

"Father, Pelle, I'll take Ingeburg to Uncle Avraham to buy some spices and other things," Rebecca announced.

Pelle looked up. He fished in his purse and gave Ingeburg three silver coins.

"Don't spend it all," he smiled.

Once outside, Rebecca looked at Ingeburg speculatively. "I've never seen Pelle so happy. He deserves to be happy. So whatever you do, don't stop it."

Ingeburg blushed a deep pink. "It's rather what he does to me that makes us both happy," she whispered.

Now it was Rebecca's turn to blush, but she also giggled. "Then don't make him stop to do these things!"

Ingeburg laughed outright. "You may hold me for a Goy, but don't hold me for witless!"

At first, Rebecca laughed but then she turned serious. "Where did you learn of that word?"

Now it was Ingeburg's turn to be embarrassed. "Forgive me! I did not know it better. I heard the word once and was told that it's how your people calls us."

"Yes, but conversing with you we rather call you Gentiles."

Ingeburg nodded to this. "Mayhap you can tell me more of your tribe in the future. We could be ... friends?"

"You want to be friends with me? I'm but a Jewess."

"You are friendly and kind. I would love to have a friend. Most of my friends showed their true faces when I was humbled by the Baron. They were nothing but envious of me. With you I wouldn't have to fear that. With you so pretty and your father so wealthy, there is no grounds for envy."

"You think me pretty, Ingeburg?"

"Who would not?" Ingeburg countered.

Rebecca shook her head. "There are but many who give me bad names. I have no friends. There is Ruth, Ismael's daughter. She is my age, but we are no friends."

On impulse Ingeburg hugged the startled Rebecca.

"You have a friend now," she declared. "Now let us see your uncle and his spices."

Rebecca led her upbeat new friend into a small shop where an elderly man sat in front of rows of glass jars filled with seeds and leaves.

"Uncle, this is Pelle the Collier's wife, Ingeburg. She wishes to buy herbs and spices from you."

The man rose, bowing slightly. "Welcome, welcome, beautiful Rose of the Lemdalen forest! What is it with which I can please your nose and palate? I have fresh marjoram, rosemary, and here I have caraway seeds, peppers, and even cinnamon."

Carefully asking the prices for each spice first and heeding the old man's advice, Ingeburg made her purchases. In the end she had a good variety of herbs and dried fruit, like she had seen her stepfather's sister use for seasoning. She paid two silver Groschen and received two copper Heller change. She thought of something nice to say before she left.

"Thank you, Avraham, for giving me good advice. You offer good wares. I'll come again when we shall be in town."

Avraham the spice trader nodded in return. "Peace upon you, Wife of Pelle. Give my greetings to your husband."

Ingeburg returned to Levy's house with her purchases where she found Pelle ready to leave. Levy bade them farewell, shaking Pelle's hand. Rebecca even gave Ingeburg a hug of her own as farewell and Pelle smiled at his wife with appreciation.

"Where will you stay, friend?" Levy asked, just as they turned to leave. "Your usual place?"

Pelle grinned sheepishly. "I was thinking we could try the Proud Stag Inn."

"Ah, but they will rob you with what they ask for their rooms!" Levy exclaimed. "And their beds are full of fleas and bedbugs."

Pelle made a face. "Where else can we find a place then?"

Levy tilted his head and smiled. "Friend Pelle, why not ask me?"

Pelle's face fell. "Oh, I never thought of that. Is it possible and allowed?"

"I have an extra room, and we often have guests, Gentiles even. Unless you have second thoughts... ?"

"No, not me. Well, do you?" Pelle asked Ingeburg.

She shook her head. "No, why would I?"

"It is settled then. I can close shop in a short while and then we'll have supper. Rebecca, daughter, show Pelle and Ingeburg to their room!"

The room was small but cosy, and there was a fresh linen cover on the mattress. Rebecca lighted an incense stick. The smouldering sandalwood stick made for a pleasant smell and kept flying pests away, she explained. Ingeburg listened with great interest.

There were also three cats in Levy's house, large rodent hunters. They kept the house free of mice and rats and their associated fleas and bugs. Ingeburg had never seen cats before, for there was a strong belief among the people that only witches kept cats to augment their powers. The Jewish people did not feel bound by such beliefs which kept their dwellings almost free of rodents but caused further distrust in their Christian neighbours.

Levy and Rebecca lived alone and there was only the four of them to sit at supper. The food, a rich chicken broth with chopped roots and onions, was delicious, and Ingeburg eagerly asked Rebecca for the recipe. When Rebecca complied, she could not help but include the ritual slaughtering of the chicken as first step which in turn led to more questioning by a now curious Ingeburg. When Pelle and Ingeburg went to bed later that evening, Ingeburg was fairly bursting with all the things she had seen and learned during the day, and it was past the tenth hour before sleep finally claimed her.

They left Birkenhain early on the next morning. The narrow road was empty and the horses were rested. They made good time and it was barely past noon when they reached the clearing. While Ingeburg busied herself stowing away the bought goods and supplies, Pelle put on his work clothes and started on his kiln again. Later, Ingeburg hurried to prepare buttered bread slices and brought them down to the creek. She was dressed in her pants and leather tunic, too, and they ate the buttered bread before she joined his efforts.

By the time the sun touched the treetops the pile had grown some more. Tired but satisfied with their day's work they trudged back to the cabin. They cleaned themselves using a bucket of water and soap before they sat for supper. Although they were tired, Pelle performed his duties and it was a very satisfied Ingeburg who finally fell asleep in her husband's arms.

The rest of the week was moulded on the pattern of the week before. The use of the horse helped tremendously once Pelle worked out how to make it pull logs and large branches from the forest. This lessened their own workload and increased the amount of wood they could pile up. Even felling small trees was easy when Pelle harnessed the strong horse to pull them over. To his astonishment the kiln reached its planned height by Saturday noon, after they decided to work it on Saturday morning.

They celebrated this achievement by spending the afternoon cooking and baking. Pelle had snared two rabbits and he helped Ingeburg to skin them. Roasted on a spit, with fresh bread and stewed roots and cabbage, they were a feast for the collier and his wife.

After their supper Pelle, prepared the bathtub for them. Ingeburg helped with eagerness, and there was no shyness anymore when she joined her husband in the tepid water. She enjoyed his strong hands as he lathered her hair and she reciprocated on his own mane. One touch led to another, and the two young people did not even leave the tub for their first bout of love making. The floor boards were properly soaked with soapy water when Ingeburg leaned back against her husband, his hands holding her breasts, and his shrinking member slipping from her opening. Laughing and hugging each other at every chance, the two then emptied the tub and cleaned away most of the mess they had created.

Sunday saw them visiting Lemdalen again, to attend church service and to see Ingeburg's family and Pelle's friends. Rudlo and his wife welcomed them, as did Tymo, the other smith. Hunold came with his sons but without Greta for fear she would disrupt the Mass with her behaviour.

After Mass, Ingeburg went with Hunold to visit Greta, but the wretched lunatic did not recognise the daughter on whom she had doted for all her life. Ingeburg was sad after the visit, but Hunold told her time and again that nothing was her fault.

For the noon meal Pelle and Ingeburg were invited in Rudlo's house. Ingeburg was shy at first, mindful of the disdain Rudlo and Hedwig had repeatedly shown her. The older couple, however, went out of their way to show their acceptance of Pelle's wife and in the end Ingeburg chatted easily with the Smith's wife and his young daughter.

After their return to the cabin they spent the rest of the afternoon resting. The weather was sunny and warm allowing them to sit at the rough hewn table and benches outside the cabin. Ingeburg busied herself with needlework while Pelle whittled and repaired arrows until his quiver was filled again. While sitting there Pelle explained the next steps in the preparation of the kiln. Inwardly, Ingeburg groaned at the prospect of hauling hundreds of buckets of clay from the clay pit to seal the pile, but she made a brave face to it. The prospect of the gruelling work was inducement for them to turn in early after a light supper.

On the next morning, Pelle made sure they both dressed in their oldest clothes. Then he rigged a long rope from the ground to the higher reaches of a pine tree. The rope went over the top of the kiln. A wooden runner with small wheels and a hook was attached, and a pulley was rigged to the upper end of the main rope. This set-up allowed for buckets of clay to be lifted to the top of the pile without carrying them by hand. Pelle explained that this was how he and Enewalt had applied the clay, but that since Enewalt's death he had not used the device.

They drove the horse wagon to the clay pit and filled all the eight buckets Pelle owned with the soft silt. Back at the kiln, Pelle climbed up with a bundle of pine and fir twigs. Ingeburg hooked the first bucket to the runner and used the pulley rope to lift it up to where Pelle was waiting. Spreading the twigs, Pelle covered them with the clay. Then, Ingeburg pulled up the next bucket. Quickly, the clay was spread and the tip of the kiln was covered.

Pelle climbed down, and once again they filled the buckets with clay in the bed of the creek. Back at the pile, Pelle covered another part of the pile with the clay that Ingeburg pulled up. Come the noon, half the pile was covered, and they ate a hasty meal. Ingeburg was ravenous and so was Pelle. After they had wolfed down their buttered bread they returned to their task. Dusk was already upon them when Pelle declared the work finished. He was simply amazed. The use of the pulley together with the strength of the horse had allowed the young couple to finish a work in one day that would have taken three to four days for Pelle alone.

On the short way back to the cabin a thoroughly satisfied Pelle suddenly grabbed Ingeburg and lifted her up in his arms. She squealed with delight and giggled when he nuzzled her throat and her bosom. Then, seemingly without their doing, they were locked in a passionate kiss. Pelle's eyes were sparkling when he set his wife back down on her feet.

"What has got into you?" Ingeburg laughed.

"Do you realise that the pile is ready after just three weeks?" Pelle answered. "I can fire it tomorrow, and it will be done next week. I can deliver the first load of coal a fortnight from now. Rudlo and Tymo will be happy, and so will the forge master in Birkenhain. All this because you helped."

Ingeburg took a deep breath and she felt her face burn at the praise. She pressed Pelle's arm.

"And I'll get better, still," she promised. "Only—"

"Only what?" Pelle asked.

"Once I am with child I cannot work that hard anymore. What will you do then?"

Pelle nodded. "You are right. I guess it's time for me to find an apprentice."

Ingeburg made a face at the thought. "But then we wouldn't be alone, and we couldn't..."

She was stopped by another kiss.

"Nothing will ever keep me from showing my love for you," Pelle promised.



-------

Chapter 9: How Lieselotte of Rennenberg Becomes the Baroness and Ingeburg has to Leave Pelle


That same evening, Sigfrid Baron of Birkenhain was entertaining important visitors. Rudolf, Count of Rennenberg had arrived with his youngest daughter Lieselotte for whom he was seeking a marriage. He had even brought the girl along and if the negotiations went as planned they would have the wedding before the Count returned to his lands.

The haste was due to the fact that the Count had remarried after his first wife's death, and his new wife did not get along at all with his daughters. Thus, he had already married off his older daughter and now it was Lieselotte's turn.

Sigfrid was quite agreeable to the prospect of taking the girl as his wife. She was young and uncommonly pretty, and while her dowry would not be great, having the Count as father in law was an advantage in itself. Had the Count not been in a hurry to find a husband for his youngest, a lowly Baron would not have been considered. The Baron's mother, the Noble Ermegart, was also excited over the prospect. This was too good an opportunity to pass.

When Sigfrid, his mother, and his guests sat for supper in the Great Hall of Birkenhain Castle, the negotiations had already reached their goal. The Count had offered Sigfrid a village of two-hundred souls as dowry, together with a toll-free right of way "for eternity" between Birkenhain lands and this new exclave. In addition, the Count offered a mutual pact of military support. Seeing that the Count was a powerful lord, with close to four hundred men-at-arms under his command, this was a powerful guaranty for Birkenhain's safety.

Thus, before his assembled retainers and vassals, Sigfrid announced his engagement with the noble Lieselotte and his impending wedding a fortnight hence on a Sunday. As a man, his vassals jumped up to cheer him and his bride-to-be.

The Baroness Ermegart smiled with deep satisfaction. Her son had won a fine bride and a powerful father-in-law. Her only worry was that the young girl would be unhappy in the castle, with all the servants already older and with no companions her own age. She had not brought any of her own companions either as her departure from Rennenberg had been made in haste.

With the announcements made and the toasts offered, the wine flowed freely and Sigfrid and the Count were in boisterous mood telling amusing stories. The Count had just recounted an episode where he had put the Bishop in his place when Sigfrid countered with the tale of how he had married the daughter of his mother's rival to a lowly collier.

"You should have seen the faces!" he fairly yelled at the end of his tale. "That shrew, Greta, just moved her mouth like a dying fish, the girl cried, and the poor collier tried to escape!"

The whole upper table laughed at this. Ermegart, after at first smiling with a certain relish over the humiliation of her erstwhile rival, sobered somewhat. New thought entered her mind and she spoke up to her son.

"Sigfrid, my son, much as I delight in the misfortune of that woman Greta, I fear you have done great injustice to the girl in your desire to spite her mother. Like it or not, that girl is of your dear father's own blood and yet you married her to some forest dweller. I like not the thought I must tell you."

Sigfrid, slightly drunk, dismissed his mother's chiding.

"Her mother asked me to find a good husband for the girl and by my troth, so did I. He's but a young fellow and not misshapen, and he's the best by far of all the colliers in my lands. It is him whom I pity. She's likely as much of a shrew as her mother."

"Still, my son, we should make certain that she is faring well. Remember, it is your father's blood that flows in her veins. Make them join the deputation from Lemdalen at your wedding."

"If that is your wish, it is but small, Mother," Sigfrid laughed. "Holla, Neidhard, see to it!"

Neidhard was the tax collector and overseer of the tillable lands. He shrugged and nodded.

"Your will shall be done, Lord!"

In the further course of the evening, an attentive observer would have noticed a satisfied smile on the Lady Ermegart's lips. The plan she was formulating in her mind would solve her worries over her new daughter-in-law's happiness. If the girl Ingeburg was a true daughter of Greta she would jump at the chance which Ermegart planned to offer.

-------

The Baron's overseer had visited the village and the outlier cabin where Pelle and Ingeburg lived. The Baron would celebrate his wedding two weeks hence with the youngest daughter of the Count of Rennenberg. Each village was to send three couples, a newly wed couple, a middle aged and an old couple to attend the wedding as well wishers. Lemdalen was to send Breno, the village elder, and his wife Berta, Rudlo and Hedwig, and the only newly wed couple, namely Pelle and Ingeburg.

Pelle and Ingeburg felt a mix of apprehension and excitement hearing this news. Pelle also felt the time pressing. He had to fire his kiln if he had to be in Birkenhain in two weeks. With regard to the celebrations, he consoled himself with the thought that there was nothing he could do anyway. It was the Baron's will after all, and they would share in the food and drink the Baron was sure to offer his guests, high and low.

For the next week, however, the firing of the kiln was the most important consideration. Pelle started the fire close to the flue and then worked with the stoppers until a steady, diffuse smoke emanated from the pile. From then on they had to watch carefully for cracks and holes in the coating, lest the fire went out of control and consumed rather than charred the wood. It was a boring task but not taxing, leaving them with ample time for other activities for as long as those could be done close to the kiln.

They used the first week of comparative leisure to effect repairs and amendments to their tools. Pelle even brought their table to the creek and sanded it freshly while watching his kiln. Ingeburg washed and aired the bedding which had taken the brunt of their nightly activities. Then, while she was watching the kiln, Pelle applied a fresh coat of linseed oil to the wood framework of the cabin or renewed a few damaged shingles on the roof. They camped out at the kiln at night, and more than once they consummated their love under the starry sky.

By Tuesday of the next week Pelle stoppered the vents of the kiln to let the fire die down and by Thursday he found that the pile was cooling down already. This gave them time to prepare, and Ingeburg cleaned her favourite dress, but also Pelle's finest linen shirt, his breeches, and his deerskin vest. Come the Sunday morning they rode the wagon into Lemdalen where the other two couples joined them on their wagon for the ride to Birkenhain.

The town of Birkenhain was bustling with activity. The feudal wedding was the single most festive occasion in many years and the Baron's subjects were in a expectant mood. Unlike his scheming and philandering father, Baron Sigfrid was well liked. Yet with no heir to the title many people were afraid who would eventually follow the Baron. Lieselotte of Rennenberg looked healthy, and therefore people hoped for an heir to guarantee stability in their little corner of the world.

The three couples from Lemdalen announced their arrival to the tax collector and they were told where to stand during the ceremony. All but the first four pews had been removed from the church to yield more standing room. Pelle and Ingeburg found themselves towards the back of the church. Once ushered in they had to wait for almost two hours before they heard the cheering of the crowd outside that signalled the arrival of the noble personages. It took another hour and their feet were getting tired before all the noble guests were properly seated and the hubbub died. Then the shawm players started and everybody craned their head to catch a glimpse at Baron Sigfrid as he stalked into the church in his knightly attire, followed by five pages who carried his train. His mother, the old Baroness Ermegart, walked a half step behind her son all the while gazing sharply over the assembly.

When Sigfrid finally stood at the altar, the Count of Rennenberg led his daughter into the church and towards the front. A veil covered her face, but everybody could see that her gait was strong and her body seemed firm and womanly.

Once Lieselotte stood by her groom's side, the Abbot of Tosdalen appeared and started a flood of Latin words which nobody understood. Having dealt with the monks in his childhood Pelle knew that even they did not understand the Latin but rather repeated the words as they had learned them by heart. Again, Pelle felt a cold anger as he regarded the abbot.

The count was then asked whether he was willing to give away his daughter and he affirmed this. Then the baron was asked whether he accepted Lieselotte's hand in marriage and he too said his 'Aye, I do.'

The Abbot then launched into a long-winded speech in Latin, interrupted every few sentences by a short interlude from the shawm players. It seemed to take forever and Pelle grinned inwardly, thinking that he much preferred the short ceremony in which the drunken priest had first join him and Ingeburg.

Once the Abbot finished his sermon they all had to kneel while he offered bride and groom the communion both in body and blood. This seemed to tie it and Sigfrid offered his arm to his new wife. Together they walked along the aisle and towards the door followed by their noble guests. Pelle and Ingeburg, along with all the other commoners, had to wait until all noble personages had cleared the church before they were allowed to move towards the exit, too.

In the church square tents had been erected where food and drink were given freely to all the folks in attendance. Both Pelle and his wife were self-conscious, not being accustomed to big crowds, and they stood to the side. It was there that they were found by the Corporal Gebhard of the Baron's guard.

"Quick, Pelle!" he almost shouted. "The Lord commands you and Ingeburg to the Great Hall!"

Pelle showed his surprise. "Who? Me and Ingeburg? Why?"

"Don't ask, just come!" Gebhard urged them.

Bewildered, they followed the guardsman up the Market Street which led to the castle. For the first time in his life, Pelle saw the castle from within. He craned his head to see everything while Gebhard hurried them along. Ingeburg was confused too. She could not remember any of the buildings, yet the whole layout seemed familiar to her.

There was no time to clear their heads as Gebhard ushered them into the hall. Moving along the wall, Gebhard led the young couple toward the dais where the table for the Lords of Birkenhain stood. He bowed.

"My Lord, the collier Pelle and his wife Ingeburg!"

The Baron was in good spirits. He appraised the couple as they knelt before the dais.

"Holla, Collier! I see you have not killed the shrew yet?"

Pelle desperately tried to clear his head. "No, my Lord! I found that she is not bad at all, and I thank you for giving her to me as my wife."

He felt Ingeburg's hand on his arm. She pressed it gratefully.

"And you, fair Ingeburg, almost-sister of mine? How do you like the husband I found for you?"

Blushing prettily, Ingeburg looked up and returned the Baron's look frankly. "I, too, thank thee, oh Lord. You found a good husband for me indeed."

"The Collier knows how to tame a shrew I fancy!" Baron Sigfrid laughed, and the rest of the table laughed with him. The Baroness Lieselotte raised her eyebrows since she had not been privy to the story of how Sigfrid had given Ingeburg to the Collier. His mother, the Noble Ermegart, shook her head and stood from the table. Ignoring Pelle completely, she placed a finger under Ingeburg's chin and lifted her face.

"Follow me, Greta's daughter," she commanded.

After casting an apprehensive look at Pelle, Ingeburg hesitantly followed the Baroness.

"Never fear, Collier! You'll have her back soon enough," Siegfired joked and again the drunken nobles laughed at Pelle's expense.

Meanwhile, the Baroness had led Ingeburg to a small chamber where she bade the girl sit.

"I haven't seen you in all those years. You were a pretty child then, and you have grown into a beauty, Ingeburg."

"Thank you, Lady?" Ingeburg answered, not sure what to make of the opening statement.

"Oh, don't be afraid, child! It is true – I disliked your mother. Who wouldn't have, the way she tried to usurp my rightful place. You are not Greta though. You are of my dear husband's blood. It grieved me to hear how my rash son married you off to a forest dweller." She cast a look at Ingeburg. "How would you like to have that sham marriage declared void? How would you like to live here in your father's castle? A girl like you can yet find a decent husband even if your marriage has been consummated."

Ingeburg had turned pale at the Baroness' words. "My Lady, I was wedded to Pelle before God! I pledged my troth! And he, I beg your pardon, he is a good man and a good husband for me."

"That wedding was a sham. The priest did not perform the ceremony according to the rites. We can have the abbot void it," Ermegart insisted.

Ingeburg shook her head and the ghost of a triumphant smile was on her lips. "My Lady, we affirmed our vows a week later in proper ceremony before God and all the people of Lemdalen. I am Pelle's wife for as long as we shall both live."

Ermegart raised her eyebrows in astonishment at the defiant statement. "You surprise me, Ingeburg. Well, stay married to your collier. With time, my son may give him a worthwhile task here in Birkenhain. He seems healthy and not too dumb.

"Be that as it may, I have need for your presence here. The new Baroness did not bring a companion with her and I should hate for her to feel lonely when my son has to attend to the numerous duties for his lands and for the Emperor. You are almost her age and I expect that Greta taught you courteous manners. You have to perform this little duty for Birkenhain.

"There is more. I want to make sure that the Baroness Lieselotte feels comfortable and well in her new home. I want you to tell me whenever she feels unhappy so that I may step in and make things right for her."

Ingeburg felt nothing but dread hearing this. Her mind worked feverishly to find a way out of this.

"Lady, I feel honoured by your offer..."

"It's not an offer," Ermegart cut in. "It is my wish. We can arrange for your Collier to visit when he is in town selling his coal. However, I shall not have my husband's daughter live in the woods. As I said, my son may find a task for the Collier here in Birkenhain. Come now!"

Ermegart led the way and Ingeburg followed, her gait like that of a condemned on the way to the gallows. In the hall she saw Pelle at once, and his face was displaying worry. The look she cast him, so full of desperation, did little to assuage his worry.

The Baroness Ermegart did not notice Ingeburg's desperation and she did not care either way. The worries of commoners rated but little in her thoughts.

"Sigfrid, my dear, I have found a most satisfying way to make good for your rash decision. Your half-sister can stay here as companion for the Noble Lieselotte. She is well bred and your dear wife will have somebody her own age with whom to consort."

"Mother, this is quite a surprise for me. Besides, she is married to the collier Pelle. It were against the laws of God and the Emperor to separate a wedded couple."

"Tut-tut! Who said anything about separating them? Ingeburg should have her own chamber after all, and when the Collier comes to town to deliver coal to your forge they can see each other. It will be inducement for him to bring his coal more often."

Ingeburg looked about like a trapped animal, her eyes pleading with Pelle for understanding. The Baron did not notice. He had turned to his bride.

"What say you, Lieselotte? Can you accept Ingeburg?"

Lieselotte of Rennenberg had watched the young woman and her husband and she felt the despair of Ingeburg. Being more perceptive than her mother-in-law, she even picked up on the cold anger that was hidden behind the collier's mask-like face. She could relate to their feelings. After all, she had been bundled into a wagon by her father without being asked, to be married off to Sigfrid of Birkenhain. She had already developed a keen insight into the workings of Birkenhain castle, however, and she knew that her husband would never deny his mother any of her whims. There was but one way to handle this.

"I would have to get to know her. Mayhap she can stay with me for a fortnight or one moon before we come to a decision?"

"That sounds sensible, doesn't it, Mother?" Sigfrid nodded. "Collier, bear with this for a month. I know it means hardship for you, but I shall make it worth your while. Tonight though, enjoy my hospitality. My wife will not need you before tomorrow, Ingeburg." He turned to his bride. "I trust you will content yourself with my company?"

That brought on raucous laughter around the table and even a weak smile on Lieselotte's face.

To find a place at the table for Ingeburg and Pelle was a formidable task for the Baron's major domo. The Collier would be the lowest ranked person in almost any setting and so would his wife. Yet, from the implications the man caught, the Collier's wife would be the Lady in Waiting for the new Baroness. Then there had been innuendoes naming the young woman half-sister of the Baron. The major domo still held vivid memories of Greta and he was loath to irritate Ingeburg. Who knew what position of power she might attain in the future?

In the end, Pelle and Ingeburg were shown places between the feudal office holders and the ranking servants. Ingeburg found herself sitting close to the Lady Ermegart's seamstress who would also take care of the new Baroness' robes. To her delight the woman found Ingeburg well versed in needle work. The animated talk made Ingeburg forget her dismay for a while, but when her gaze strayed to her left, she saw Pelle and her heart became heavy again. During a lull in the talking he put her hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and she saw his dismay.

"I'm so sorry, Pelle," she whispered. "I do not want this, please believe me! It was the Baroness' idea and she brooked no words against her wish. What shall I do without you?"

Her eyes were brimming with tears and Pelle touched her cheek gently. His voice barely belied his anger.

"There is naught we can do, my wife. Our happiness is of little concern to the Lord and his mother. He giveth and he taketh away," Pelle said with bitterness in his voice. He took a deep breath and his voice became warm again. "Always remember that I love you, Ingeburg!"

She pressed his arm looking at him with deep tenderness. "This is only the second time you said that. I love you too, Pelle. All my striving will be to be with you again! At least you can visit with me."

"I shall bring coal in two or three days. I shall announce myself at the gate. If something happens and you cannot see me, send word to Levy or Rebecca. I shall stop there first."

Ingeburg nodded. Then she bent over to whisper into Pelle's ear.

"What if we flee Birkenhain lands? You could be a collier in any forest, couldn't you?"

Pelle kissed her tenderly. "That should be our last resort. Mayhap things will work out. The new Baroness seems like a kind woman and the Lady Ermegart will not live forever," he whispered back. "Let us strive to be together as often as possible, at least for now."

-------

Pelle and Ingeburg spent their last night together in the castle. At least in this regard the Baroness had kept her word, for when the celebrations broke up a chamberlain showed Ingeburg and Pelle to a sleeping chamber on the third storey, above the feudal family's chambers. The room even had a small window with glass panes, something neither of the young people had ever seen from up close, and the curtained alcove bed was comfortable. Before the chamberlain bade them good-night, he told Ingeburg that she had to see the Baroness' seamstress first thing on the morrow to be fitted with appropriate robes.

Pelle was also told that the guards would be advised to let him pass but that he would be required to obtain clothes in the fashion of the Baron's household. The chamberlain was kind enough to name a tailor in town who would produce such clothes at little cost.

This thoughtfulness on the part of the Baroness calmed Ingeburg and Pelle a little and rather than fretting over their future they spent the night making love. Ingeburg seemed insatiable, and when the rooster in the courtyard crowed, Pelle had not had a wink of sleep and neither had Ingeburg.

Bleary eyed they sat with the servants and had breakfast. The motherly seamstress then bade Ingeburg follow her and Pelle gave his wife one last kiss before he left the castle. It almost tore his heart apart to see Ingeburg's tears. A few weeks ago he would have revelled in her pain. Now her anguish was his.

With a heavy heart Pelle called upon Levy before he met with the other people from Lemdalen. Levy promised to relay any messages Ingeburg might send and he commiserated with Pelle over the fickle Baroness. Rudlo and Hedwig were incensed too, hearing of the disregard for Pelle's and Ingeburg's happiness displayed by the feudal family.

The mood on the ride home was subdued. Breno, the village elder warned Pelle against any rash actions and to keep his misgivings to himself.

"Like it or not, Collier, the Baron has a long arm and many ears. Resign yourself. All this is part of God's Great Plan."

Rudlo, on the driver seat of the wagon, snorted. "Don't believe all the nonsense the Abbot has been feeding to us, Breno. God's plan? Why would God plan to separate a couple wedded in his name? 'Tis nothing but the whim of the old Baroness. Mark my words, in but a week she has forgotten why she wants poor Ingeburg in that castle."

Pelle was quiet. Inside, however, he was filled with anger. Not for the first time in his life he felt the injustice of those in power and his own feeling of helplessness burned his innards.

When they arrived in Lemdalen, Rudlo put a hand on Pelle's shoulder. "Come visit with us whenever you feel like talking, my friend," he said.

Hedwig hugged the young man. "I'm sorry, Pelle. You deserve better."

Pelle did not answer, but he nodded. His friends were there for him and although this could not cushion the blow entirely it made him feel a little less desperate when he mounted his cart. He drove to Hunold's dwelling first. Hunold deserved to know about Ingeburg. He tied his horses to a post in front of Hunold's house and called out for him. Hunold stuck out his head from a window.

"What is it, Pelle? Where is Ingeburg?"

Taking a deep breath, Pelle answered. "The old baroness requested her to stay in Birkenhain castle as companion for the baron's new wife. She will be treated as the baron's half-sister. You might tell Greta. Mayhap it will help her."

Hunold looked at Pelle unbelievingly. "Are you jesting? First, they scorn her and make her marry you, and then ... I'm sorry, Pelle, this came out wrong. But it is the truth that the baron meant to humiliate her and Greta. What made this change of heart happen?"

Pelle shrugged. "The old baroness came up with the idea. She does not like it that her husband's daughter lies with a lowly collier," he said bitterly.

"Yes, but for her husband to take pretty commoner girls and breed them, that was just fine," Hunold replied with anger in his voice. He breathed twice to get control of his voice, suddenly realising that he was criticising the baron's father in the open. "Well, whatever his Lordship ordains is probably the best for us."

Pelle smirked. "I just wanted you to know, Hunold. I will ride home now. My kiln has cooled off and I need to ship the coal. All this folly has cost me enough time as it is."

"Do you need help? Tjark could help you out for a day or two?"

"That would be nice. Maybe, he'd like to go to Birkenhain with me on the next Saturday?"

"I'll ask him. The boy needs to get out from time to time."

The old donkey had known the way back to the cabin by heart, but the horse required a strong hand and that was good, for Pelle had a task on the way to his home, a home that looked empty now. It was astonishing how much Ingeburg's brief stay had changed Pelle's view of things. A few weeks ago he had been content with his well built and appointed cabin, with his good income, and the few friends he had. Now all this seemed without importance.



-------

Chapter 10: How Pelle and Ingeburg Learn to Cope


"You are a pretty one, Deary," the seamstress complimented Ingeburg whilst taking her measure. "Wait until I have fitted you with these new garments! You'll put every woman in the castle to shame, and all the young gentlemen will be after you."

Ingeburg stood back immediately. "I have no interest in putting anybody to shame, and I certainly want nothing of the young gentlemen!" she almost snarled. "I have a husband and I plighted my troth to him!"

"Yes, certainly, I beg your pardon," the old woman hastened to soothe her.

In keeping with her determination to maintain a modest appearance Ingeburg insisted on a high neckline for the robes, much to the seamstress' dismay who kept saying that hiding a bosom like Ingeburg's was a sin. Nevertheless, Ingeburg prevailed.

Returning to her allotted chamber Ingeburg was surprised to see a young woman, or rather a girl, who was straightening the bed. Seeing Ingeburg the girl blushed deeply and knelt before her.

"I am Lina, Mistress. The Lady Ermegart bade me look after your room and your clothes. Do you wish for fresh linen on your bed?"

Ingeburg felt a blush on her own face now. The bed certainly needed a change of sheets after the last night.

"Yes," she said with an effort. "Methinks fresh linen were a good thing."

After the noon meal Ingeburg had her first chance to see the Lady Lieselotte in private. The Baron had excused himself from the ladies after the meal explaining that he had to see off the Abbot of Tosdalen and other dignitaries. The Baroness Ermegart had not spoken a word to Ingeburg but had cast her a few looks that Ingeburg could not place. She too left after the meal, and that left the two young women alone.

"Do you wish for my company, Lady?" Ingeburg asked hesitantly.

She was surprised by the grateful smile on the young Baroness' face.

"That would be nice," she said. "May I call you Ingeburg?"

In spite of herself, Ingeburg smiled back. "I answer to that name, Lady."

"Will you in turn call me Liese? At least when we are among ourselves?"

Ingeburg hesitated before she nodded. "If this is your wish, L ... Liese."

"It is awkward, isn't it? Let us go to my dower. I want to learn about Birkenhain and this castle!"

She stood from her chair and led the way leaving Ingeburg no choice but to follow her.

"Umh, Liese, I have little knowledge of Birkenhain, and none of this castle," she explained when they had reached the Baroness' bower.

"But you were born here, weren't you? Sigfrid told me so."

"It is true, but I was a small girl when my mother had to leave Birkenhain. I grew up in Lemdalen, a half day's journey to the east, under Hunold's roof. He is a freeholder. The old baron made him marry my mother."

Lieselotte raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so you grew up as a peasant's daughter?"

Ingeburg smirked involuntarily. "Not really. My mother always pretended that I was destined for a noble husband, and she raised me in that belief."

"But you married that collier. How did that come to pass?"

"His Lordship visited Lemdalen and my mother pleaded him to find a good husband for me. There is no love between the Lord and my mother and thus he made me marry Pelle to spite my mother."

Lieselotte's eyes narrowed. How could he do that to his half-sister? Ingeburg saw the look on her lady's face and smiled smugly.

"I am grateful to the Lord. Even unwittingly he found me a good husband."

"But he's a collier. Doesn't he live in the forest?"

"Yes, but he has a well built cabin there. We have all we need there. He is a good worker and he provides well for me. He is a wonderful lover too," she added smiling shyly.

"Ouch," Lieselotte answered with a smirk of her own. "I can do without. I still hurt terribly. You have been married for a month or more. Does it hurt that much every time?"

Ingeburg was taken aback at first. "It hurt only a little during the first time. Pelle is very gentle with me and he made that I was in my heat and wet before he broke my maidenhead. After that first time there was never pain, only good feelings. He always makes sure that I am well in my heat before he sates his own lust."

"How does he bring you in heat?" Lieselotte asked, a little flushed now.

Ingeburg's voice dropped to a whisper and she was beet red when she answered.

"He uses his hands on me, and even his lips and tongue. I could die then! A few times, I fainted with pleasure!"

"We must be different then," Lieselotte said with a shrug. "I never came into my heat and it hurt me fiercely. It still does. I wonder if there are any ointments or salves in this castle?"

"Should I ask around, Liese?" Ingeburg offered. "If there are none, I know a Jewess in town who is versed in salves and ointments."

"A Jewess? How do you know her? Didn't you say you left Birkenhain as a small girl?"

"I met her only twice," Ingeburg explained. "Her father has business with Pelle and I met her when we came to Birkenhain."

"It cannot hurt to try," Lieselotte nodded. "Wait, how can we pay for things in town? Let us ask the chamberlain."

Together, the two young women sought out Oswald, the chamberlain, who explained that all merchants kept tabs for the items purchased for the castle. Since Ingeburg was not known to the traders he suggested that she went with a guardsman who could vouch for her.

Knowing Gebhardt, Ingeburg asked for his help and he readily agreed to accompany his friend's wife. Lieselotte had given her a small list of things she wanted in addition to ointments and salves. With Gebhardt's help she found the merchants for the items and he introduced her to the shop owners as the "Mistress Ingeburg". He was also courteous enough to carry the goods she acquired.

The last stop was Levy's house. Levy was absent trading, but Rebecca greeted her friendly.

"Pelle was here this morning. You poor woman! How do you feel?"

"Lonely," Ingeburg sighed. "At least, I have good luck with my mistress. The Lady Lieselotte is kind and friendly."

Ingeburg dropped her voice because Gebhardt was standing in the door, seemingly loath to enter a Jewish house.

"It is for my lady I came today. Her nuptials have left her overly sore and hurting, and I hoped that you would have an ointment or a salve to lessen her discomfort."

Rebecca blushed slightly. "Her discomfort is around her womanly parts?"

Ingeburg nodded. "The Lord appears to be less than apt at making a woman comfortable," she whispered with a slight smirk.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows, and Ingeburg could not help but smile conspiratorially.

"I have deer tallow, rendered with camomile and aloe," Rebecca offered. "It is soothing and promotes healing. I also have beeswax in seed oil. It can ease ... things in the future."

Ingeburg grasped the meaning immediately. "That would help I guess. Can you give me some and charge the chamberlain's tab?"

"Of course," Rebecca smiled. "Keep it in a cool place and apply the tallow sparingly. The other salve should be applied before ... you get my meaning?"

"I do, Rebecca. I shall let my Lady know that you prepared the salves. It may win you favour with her."

When they left Levy's dwelling, Gebhardt looked at Ingeburg curiously. "Are you friendly with the Jewess?"

"What if I am?" Ingeburg challenged him. "She is friendly and knowledgeable, and she is my friend."

"I'm not judging, Mistress Ingeburg," Gebhardt hastened. "Her mother healed me when I had broken an arm. It's just that not many in the castle hold intercourse with the Jews. I know the Baron holds them in good regard for they pay him a pretty tax penny, but he'll not speak to them in person."

"I can go alone henceforth if you feel uncomfortable," Ingeburg offered.

Gebhardt shook his head. "No, no, I will get used to it. She is a fair maid, is young Rebecca."

They returned to the castle with their wares and Ingeburg headed directly for Lieselotte's chambers. She found the young baroness busy stitching.

"Did you find something for me?" she asked, looking up and giving Ingeburg a friendly smile.

"Yes, L-Liese. I have deer tallow rendered with camomile and aloe, to soothe your present soreness, and a paste to prevent future hurt."

"Oh, dear! You are right! He may want to do this again!" Lieselotte exclaimed. She looked at Ingeburg who fought a smile. "Oh, I know. You would just as soon have your husband in your bed each night."

Ingeburg blushed a little, but she nodded. "I had him every night, Liese. Now I'll miss him every night. Do you wish for me to help you apply the salve?"

"Could you? I'd have to step out of my skirts to see what I am doing. Also, you seem to be ... more knowledgeable in these matters."

Ingeburg smiled. "I can help you, but I have no knowledge of injuries ... down there."

Lieselotte sat on a stool and lifted her skirt whilst Ingeburg knelt in front of her. She had her mistress turn towards the window, to have more light. What she saw made her flinch. There had been tearing and Lieselotte's fanny looked red and covered with scabs. Ingeburg dipped her fingers into the jar with the deer tallow and smeared a small dollop onto the tender skin. Lieselotte flinched at first and Ingeburg did her best to be gentle as she rubbed the tallow into the skin.

Gradually Lieselotte relaxed and Ingeburg was able to rub another dollop of tallow into the opening as far as her slender finger would reach. She could not help but touch Lieselotte's most sensitive spot a few times, each time eliciting a sharp intake of breath. When Ingeburg was finished and stood, Lieselotte dropped her skirt and looked at her companion.

"How come that when you touch me there is no pain, no discomfort?"

"Mayhap being a woman myself I know what may hurt," Ingeburg answered.

"Ingeburg, when you rubbed the salve into my opening, when you touched that special spot, you incited feelings in me."

Ingeburg's eyes flew open. "I'm sorry, L-Lieseotte, I did not mean to, I swear!"

Lieselotte smiled and gently touched Ingeburg's cheek. "Don't be sorry, Ingeburg, my gentle companion. Those were good feelings. I wish your brother were as gentle," she ended with a wry smile.

Ingeburg blushed not knowing what to say. Lieselote took a deep breath and put a smile on her face.

"Well, he's betrothed to me and there's naught I can do. Mayhap with that ointment it'll be less painful the next time."

For the remainder of the afternoon the two young women sat at the largest window, embroidering a shirt that Lieselotte planned to gift to her new husband.

At the dinner table Ingeburg found herself seated on the dais with the Baron's family. She managed to hide her apprehension but she contributed only monosyllables to the conversation.

After dinner, the Baroness Ermegart signalled Ingeburg to follow her to her own bower. Once there she fixated Ingeburg with a hard gaze.

"I learned that you visited with traders in town?"

"For the Lady Lieselotte, yes, Lady," Ingeburg was quick to answer.

"And pray, what did she need that we did not have? Mind, if I know, we can have such things in store for her use."

Ingeburg blushed but decided to be honest. "It was a special need, Lady. The Lady Lieselotte felt soreness from her nuptials and I purchased salves and ointments to lessen her discomfort."

The baroness' face cleared. "That was thoughtful of you, Ingeburg. I was not aware that we had a good bader (herbalist) in town?"

"The Jewess Rebecca, Lady, learned the healing arts from her late mother. I befriended her not long ago and she advised me."

"You befriend a Jewess? Most astonishing, I must say, given your mother's attitude towards the Lost Tribe. Rebecca, isn't she Levy's daughter?"

"She is, Lady. My husband and Levy have dealings. That is how I met her."

"Well, it is good to know that we have a healer, Jewess or not. Pass her my thanks when you see her again! Oh, and ask her for some soft tallow against chafed skin. I'm not getting younger I fear."

"I shall, Lady. I am sure she has tallows. They are scented, too."

"Well, return to Lieselotte and continue your good service!"

Ingeburg bowed shortly and returned to Lieselotte's quarters.



-------

Chapter 11: How Pelle Can Put His Fears to Rest



A day after his return from Birkenhain, Pelle uncovered the kiln. He found the coal of the usual good quality but he felt no satisfaction, only apprehension. Secretly he dreaded his next trip to Birkenhain. What if Ingeburg would take a liking to her new life? What if she, living with the Baron's family, felt shame at being married to him? If he stayed in the forest he could hope and dream of her at least. If he went to Birkenhain a cruel reality might just crush those dreams.

Nevertheless, he could not put off the first delivery. His friends at the forge depended on him. He also realised that by displaying a sulky attitude he might offend the Baron who would then punish him and perhaps Ingeburg too. It was a good thing that Tjark, Hunold's son, showed up at the cabin to help out. Tjark was eager to accompany his brother in law to Birkenhain for the first delivery of the fresh batch of coal. Working together the two young men loaded the wagon with almost one hundred bushels of coal, more than twice the normal load that Pelle was used to deliver. Afterwards they filled the tub to wash, albeit one after the other.

Wearing clean clothes and freshly bathed, the two young men set out for Birkenhain early on the next morning. Pelle soon found that not only could he load more than two times the load, but he could make the trip in a shorter time. Especially after reaching the high road, the horse managed a brisker pace than Pelle's old donkey. Thus, they arrived at the gates of Birkenhain with time to spare before noon.

The forge master beamed at him when they drew up in front.Â

"That's a good surprise for sure, Pelle! I hadn't expected you so soon, and what a load you bring!" He turned to shout into the forge. "Holla, boys! Out here! There's coal to unload!"

The apprentices groaned at the sight of the loaded wagon but they set to work. Tjark watched with amazement as seven lads made rather short work of the big load.

"So, how much do I owe for that load?" the forge master asked.

"We loaded eight dozen bushel, that's forty and eight Groschen," Pelle replied.

When the forge master counted the money out on the table, Pelle left two Groschen for the apprentices, and he offered another four to Tjark for the help. Tjark grinned broadly. Four Groschen was more than his father gave him in a month, and he got to spend a night in Birkenhain on top.Â

With over forty Groschen left, Pelle headed for a tailor's shop after leaving Tjark at the Red Cockerel. Tjark planned to spend one of his silver Groschen and the night getting laid for once. He was not married and he not even had a sweetheart, for the girls of marrying age had either been Ingeburg's friends who were aloof or they hated her and anybody associated with her. To make things worse, he was the second son of Hunold, destined to live his life working for his father and his older brother.Â

At the tailor's shop Pelle asked for breeches and a vest in the style of the Baron's household. He was lucky, or more likely the tailor had been forewarned by the chamberlain, for he had a readymade set available at six Groschen cost. It was indeed a good fit and the dark green wool cloth was smooth and warm. Pelle changed into it at once and asked for a second set to be ready in a week. He was also able to secure a well made linen shirt which he put on under the vest. His other clothing went into a linen sack which he slung over his shoulder.

His next stop was Levy's shop. He was in for a surprise for he had not yet entered when Rebecca flung herself into his arms.

"You're here! Oh, that's wonderful! Ingeburg will be so happy," she gushed. She released him whilst still smiling. "Ingeburg is well. I already saw her twice. Guess what: I am retained by the young baroness as her personal healer! Even the old baroness ordered some of my scented tallow!"

Pelle smiled back at the exuberant girl. Once more he realised how lovely she was. She was almost the total opposite of Ingeburg but she could hold her own with her looks.

"That's good, isn't it?" he asked.

Rebecca nodded and turned sober. "It means a lot. It means safety foremost. Having the ears of the baroness may even protect us when the Abbot will start preaching against my people the next time."

Pelle felt his hatred rise at the mentioning of the Abbot but he willed it away. Instead, he produced a leather pouch.

"I brought some fine coal for your potions," he announced causing Rebecca to smile again.

"Thank you! I can use it the way the trots are making the round in town. Make sure to drink ale and hot teas only, but never well water. It seems that the wells are tarnished again."

Pelle grimaced. He could never live in town, without good clean water.Â

"I'll mind that," he said. "How is your father?"

"He is fine. He had to travel to Tosdalen. The Abbot has not paid back the big loan."

"I wish him good luck," Pelle said bitterly. The Abbot was known as a miser among other, less flattering descriptions.

"Oh, he will have no difficulties," Rebecca smiled grimly. "He has the Baron's overseer with him to enforce the debt."

Pelle could not help but chuckle. It would grate the Abbot to no end to be forced to pay his debt to a Jew. In manners like this, the Baron ruled with an iron hand. If you owed you had to pay, abbot or peasant, lest you found yourself locked in the debt tower.Â

"Well, I better be on my way. Give my greetings to your worthy father, Rebecca, and walk in peace!"

"Walk in peace, Pelle," Rebecca answered nicely.

Pelle had to spend some time before he could call at the castle, and he walked the narrow alleys of Birkenhain and inspected the goods sold by the traders. He found nothing that caught his fancy and he slowly walked up to the castle. Gebhardt was on sentry duty at the gate.

"Ah, friend Pelle! I see you cannot stay away from your lovely wife for long! Not that anyone can blame you; she sure is a good one. Go right in and announce your presence to the chamberlain!"

Pelle smiled back. "I thank you, friend Gebhardt. I shall do as you said."

He found the chamberlain Oswald in the courtyard talking to the a group of maidservants. He had to wait his turn before he addressed the man.

"Master Chamberlain, I am Pelle the Collier. I came to visit my wife Ingeburg. She is..."

"Yes, yes, I know her, and I know you. You are dressed properly too. That is good. Your wife is still attending the young Baroness and supper will not start before an hour and a half. You'll have to wait until after supper to see her. Come with me. The Baroness Ermegart wishes to speak you."

Filled with apprehension Pelle followed the chamberlain. They went up to the second storey and followed a winding corridor until the chamberlain bade him stop. There was a large oakwood door which the chamberlain rapped with a huge ceremonial key. The door opened and Pelle saw an elderly maidservant.

"The Lady Ermegart requested to see the collier Pelle. He is here now," Oswald announced officially.

"I shall ask the Lady," the maidservant answered closing the door in their faces.

She opened it again a few heartbeats later and stepped out. She inspected Pelle's clothing and even sniffed him before she jerked her chin towards the door.

"Come in, Collier, and don't you forget to kneel!" she ordered sharply.

Resigned, Pelle followed her. The old Baroness was sitting at a window doing some needlework as he could see. He was led to within two steps of her before the maidservant gave him a significant nod. Obediently, Pelle knelt. He kept his mouth shut too, for no commoner was allowed to speak out of turn when in front of a noble personage. He did not look down though, but rather returned the Baroness' scrutinising gaze with assumed equanimity.Â

"So you are Pelle?" the Baroness asked.

"Yes, Lady," Pelle answered.

"Your wife tells me that you are no dumb and brute forest dweller. Why did you become a collier then?"

"When my father died, Lady, my mother found it hard to support us. The collier Enewalt offered to marry her and he took me as his stepson. This is why and how I learned the trade."

The old woman cocked her head. "How did your father die, Collier?"

Pelle swallowed hard. "He ... He was found guilty of heresy in Tosdalen and burnt at the stake."

"Your father was the caretaker Bero?"

"Yes, Lady," Pelle answered, honestly surprised that she knew his father.

"That puts a different light on things," the old woman mused. "Your great-grandfather was a trusted follower of my husband's grandfather. Did you learn numbers and letters?"

"A little, Lady, but I have forgotten much of what I learned for it availed me little in my new life."

"A pity that, but easily corrected. Stand up, Pelle!"

Pelle did as she bade and stood.

"You're tall and strong. You're not dumb at all and good in your trade as I hear. I can see where Ingeburg may fancy you. Listen to me now! I keep your wife here in the castle because she is of my late husband's blood. She is good for my son's wife too. Now that I know more of you I shall find a worthwhile task for you. Bear with it and you may find that my son's wedding was your lucky day."

Pelle nodded. Of course, having a task with the Baron's retinue would mean an easier life for him and Ingeburg. They would eat and drink at the Baron's table, would sleep in the castle or in town, and they would enjoy the safety provided by the Baron's guards. Yet, it would mean the end of his freedom too. The end of fresh spring water, the end of hunting deer. He had to think to weigh the issues but the Baroness wanted an answer.

"If my Lord and you, Lady, deem me worthy to serve my Lord in some way, I shall indeed be grateful," he replied. "I know the woods and forests best but I can also count well."

"We shall find something, never worry. Now go and put the smile back on your wife's face; she has been waiting for your visit impatiently. You may join the rest of the household for supper."

"Thank you, Lady. I shall do your pleasure," Pelle answered, this time with true conviction.

The same maidservant showed him out. "You did well, Collier," she told him. "Always keep in mind that my lady has the baron's ear like nobody else."

"I will, Mistress," Pelle answered politely the way his mother had taught him, and he was rewarded with a benevolent snort.

Back in the courtyard he found the forge master.Â

"I didn't find the time earlier to speak to you. Pelle, it is good that you have that large wagon now. We need more coal. The Baron secured us shipments of ore from up north and he wants us to deliver more steel. The Count of Rennenberg will buy all the knives and swords we can make. Those other rascals have turned up bad quality recently. Somehow we need you to make more coal."

Pelle thought about that. Now that he was living alone again his plans to increase the number of coal piles had fallen through.Â

"I would if I could, Master. You know how it is, though. With my wife now serving the Baroness I have to tend my dwelling and do my own cooking and baking. I guess I can make five piles in a year now, but not more."

"You need help then," Tilke the forge master spoke, scratching his bald head. "I'll keep my eyes and ears open. Mayhap I can find you a helper or even an apprentice. Just so you know I'm serious, I'll pay you twelve Groschen extra for each load you deliver."

Pelle whistled softly and nodded. That was some inducement.Â

"Wait!" Tilke exclaimed. "I have a thought. There's a bunch of people, come from the east, fugitives. The Baron gives 'em shelter and food for a fortnight. They're a ragged bunch, but there's some orphans with 'em what may want to learn a trade. We still have time afore supper. Come, Pelle!"

Shrugging, Pelle followed the forge master. He could really do with some help.Â

Tilke led him through the gate and downhill. Downstream of the forge, where nobody usually lived, there was an assembly of ragged lean-tos and tents. A cooking fire was going with a cauldron hanging over the flames. Two elderly women were stirring a soup while twenty people in rags sat around with hungry eyes. The people looked different. Their hair was mostly dark and so was their complexion. The few men sported black beards, and the womenfolk were wearing dark headscarves.Â

"Listen up, you people!" Tilke shouted, and the fugitives looked up. "This is the collier Pelle. He is a master of his trade and he is willing to take in an apprentice. Pelle's coal is the best far and wide, and he who learns from him will make a good living in future years. Who is on?"

The men and women looked at each other and then at their sons. Pelle could see their hesitation. Of course, they wanted to keep their children. Suddenly, a young lad of perhaps fifteen, sixteen years stood and pulled a girl behind him.

"I am Matthias, Master, and this is my sister Marja. We are orphans, and we have no family and no place to go. I want to learn a craft but I cannot leave my sister. Could she come too and help with cooking and cleaning? She is a good cook."

Pelle looked at the lad. He had an open look about him and he looked strong and able. Then he let his gaze sweep over the lass. She looked unkempt like the rest of the group, but she stood straight and seemed able-bodied.

"Are you truly siblings?" he asked and the youngsters nodded.Â

There was apprehension in the girl's eye Pelle saw. He understood. Marja was on the verge of womanhood and the prospects for orphan girls were grim. At best she could expect to be worked from dawn to dusk, at the worst she would be at her master's mercy and fucked at his leisure. He nodded slowly.

"Be ready tomorrow after sun-up. I shall come with my wife so she can have a look at you. If she agrees you can both come with me."

"Thank you, Master!" the boy exclaimed while the girl curtseyed silently.Â

"Is she mute?" Pelle asked.

The girl shook her head. "No, Master, I can speak," she almost whispered.

"Speak then, Marja. I'll not ask anything from you but keeping my cabin clean and cooking the meals. Do you get that?"

"Yes, Master," she answered, but he could see something, hope or relief, in her dark eyes.

"Until tomorrow, then," Pelle concluded, and together with Tilke he walked back to the castle.

"A raggedy bunch to be sure," he sighed.

"I'll say, and most of them are afraid of work. The lad seems to be a good one. Be careful of the wench though, lest you make your wife jealous."

"I didn't even think of that, but you are right!" Pelle exclaimed. "I better speak up to her at once."

"You better!" Tilke chuckled. "That wife of yours does not strike me as being docile."

"She has naught to fear, Master. I'll stay true to Ingeburg, now more than ever." He thought of something now that he had almost forgotten. "Master Tilke, do you still remember the mason who built the furnace and the flue in your forge?"

Tilke was surprised. "Yes, certainly. He is Wenzel, and he does most of the work for the baron."

"Do you think he might do work for me in Lemdalen Forest?"

"You have to ask him. Or better, I shall speak to him when I see him next. What is it that you need a mason for?"

"I have this idea. A traveller whom I spoke at breakfast in the Red Cockerel months ago put that idea in my head that a kiln built from stone and clay, once built, makes the charring much easier. I was thinking to try it out, but I need a master mason."

Tilke's eyes lit up. "With easier you mean faster?"

Pelle nodded. "That is my hope. Covering the kiln with twigs and clay takes two days at the least, and uncovering and saving the clay another two. I am thinking of four solid kilns, each to be loaded and fired every four weeks. Whilst one is loaded, the second is fired, the third cools down, and the fourth can be harvested."

Tilke was a master craftsman used to planning the workings in the large forge. He saw the concept immediately.

"You're onto something here, Collier! I shall speak to Wenzel at first chance. You could even work through rainy weather!"

"There is that, and the risk of a blaze is much lower with a solid kiln."

"Say no more, Pelle! I shall help you if I have to hew stone myself!"Â

When they returned to the castle, the supper bell sounded. Master Tilke led Pelle into the hall. He sat with the smiths of the forge, anxiously scanning the doorway from whence the Baron and his family would emerge. He did not have to wait long, for the chamberlain opened that door and loudly announced his lord.

"All rise! The Lord Sigfrid is in the hall!"

They all stood while the Baron entered with his wife on his right arm and his mother to his left. Behind them Pelle could see Ingeburg. She too was anxiously surveying the hall until she saw Pelle, and she gave him a beaming smile.Â

"Ah, to be young again!" Tilke grinned. "Well, at least I'll get my regular shipments of coal out of this!"

They all sat again and then the supper was served. While the upper table had a choice beef roast, the lower table received a rich soup, with the lesser beef, grain and cabbage. They were allowed to ladle second and third helpings into their bowls, and Pelle felt well sated after his second. Thin ale and brown ale flowed freely and Pelle followed Rebecca's advice to eschew the well water keeping to the thin ale.Â

When supper was finished, the Baron and his family retreated, save for Ingeburg who fairly ran to meet Pelle. The other castle dwellers made raucous comments when Ingeburg launched herself into her husband's open arms.Â

"I missed you so much!" she whispered between kisses.Â

"Not as I missed you, my Sweet!" Pelle assured her. "Shall we go for a stroll to settle the supper?"

"I'd love that," Ingeburg beamed and hooked her arm into his.

Together they left the hall and crossed the castle courtyard. They sat on a wooden bench under the huge oak tree in the centre of the courtyard. That oak tree was older than the castle. The lore said that it had been a sacred tree in pagan times, dedicated to the god of thunder, Donar, who also was a patron of the smiths. These days the castle dwellers spent their idle time sitting in its shade.

Quickly the two lovers filled each other in on what had happened during the last days. Ingeburg was relieved when she heard that the old baroness seemed to approve of Pelle. Then Pelle brought up the subject of the two orphans.

"Tilke, the forge master, showed me those fugitives before supper. I may have found an apprentice among them. He's a young lad of fifteen years and he seems willing and healthy enough."

"That's good, Pelle," Ingeburg smiled. "I worry about you. What happens when you get injured? But who will cook for you? You cannot cook for two and work more."

"Well, the young lad has a sister. They're both orphans, Matthias and Marja, and he said he'd only come if his sister can come too. Seeing that she's a young lass and not ugly at all, I wanted to ask your mind first."

Ingeburg thought for a moment. "She is pretty?"

"She cannot hold a candle to you but she may be pretty once the grime comes off."

"Can I see them? Who knows, I may yet come home to you soon and I'll have to deal with her."

"There is still light," Pelle answered. "You want that we go right now?"

Ingeburg nodded and stood. She hooked her arm into his again.

"You are a good man, Pelle, for asking my mind. I know it is your decision to make and I am grateful."

"Yes, Ingeburg, it is my decision but your happiness is very important to me."

"And I love you for it!" Ingeburg assured him pressing his arm tightly.

They walked the short distance down the castle hill and beyond the Baron's forge. Pelle could see that the fugitives had eaten, for the cauldron was upended. Pelle saw the two youngsters sitting away from the others and talking to each other intently. They saw him though, and he thought their eyes widened when they saw Ingeburg at his side in her beautiful blue dress. They quickly stood.

"Ingeburg, these two are Matthias and Marja," he said by way of introduction.

Ingeburg regarded the lad only briefly before her eyes took in the girl. She was barely older than Marja herself, and that made her slightly insecure.

"I am Pelle's wife," she said. "I live in the castle though to attend the Lady Lieselotte's needs, the Baron's wife. My husband tells me that you are willing to work our household?"

The girl nodded at first but then she seemed to scrape together her courage.

"Yes, Mistress," she said almost inaudibly. "If Master Pelle will have us, I can cook and clean for him."

Ingeburg suddenly grinned. "Look well after him and you will have my gratitude. I don't have to tell you what the limits are?"

Blushing, Marja shook her head, too flustered to answer. Ingeburg smiled at her.

"Do not worry, Marja. Pelle will treat you right and you and your brother will have plenty of food."

Pelle nodded, quite relieved. "I shall pick you up tomorrow after sun-up. Do you have shoes?"

They both shook their heads.Â

"We'll find you something," he sighed.

When they walked uphill towards the castle Ingeburg pressed his arm again. "Pelle, please be easy on those children. They must be scared."

He returned the pressure. "I know, my sweet wife. I was an orphan myself."

"She'll be pretty one day, Marja will," Ingeburg commented.Â

"I expect she will," Pelle agreed. "It is good that I am married to the prettiest lass of them all!"

"You say the nicest things, my husband. Let us go up to my chamber. I have a strong urge to feel your love!"

Indeed, once they arrived in the living quarters, Ingeburg led Pelle straight to her chamber. Inside, she took off her head dress and the combs that held her hair, letting the blonde tresses fall over her shoulders and her back. She unhooked her vest and unbound the waistband of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor boards. Then she pulled her shirt over her head and Pelle was treated to the mesmerising sight of Ingeburg's swaying breasts. In the reddish light of the evening sun pouring in from the window the curly hair that guarded her womanly treasures glowed golden. Â

With smouldering eyes she watched as Pelle shed his vest, shirt, and breeches. When he stood naked in front of her, his manhood swollen and hard, she looked up into his eyes and knelt in front of him. Pursing her lips she rained small kisses on his straining member all the while looking up at him. Then, taking a deep breath, she stood again and pulled him over to her bed.Â

"Take me, Pelle, make me yours!"

Pelle was more than eager but he restrained himself. He had thought about their situation and he did not want his wife to think that he only came to Birkenhain to sate his desire on her body. Thus, instead of following his urge to mount his wife he lay down beside her and began to caress her. His lips and fingers found her favourite spots, stroking, probing, kissing, and nibbling on her lush body. Soon he had Ingeburg mewling and squealing softly under his ministrations while her hands were buried in his full hair. For a long time, he touched every part of her body save for her pubes, in spite of her undulating hips, in spite of her spreading thighs. The heavy smell of arousal that emanated from her snatch did not go unnoticed though, and he finally gave in to his urge to taste her sweet core.Â

As soon as his mouth touched her nether lips, Ingeburg had a shuddering release. She bit down on her pillow to keep from screaming out loudly, and all Pelle could hear was her muffled squeal. He eagerly lapped up the freely flowing juices of her snatch savouring her womanly taste. Time and again Ingeburg arched up her hips when peaks of lust washed over her. When she begged for relief in a tiny voice, he relented letting her regain her breath.

When Ingeburg focussed her eyes on him then, they were smouldering with a passion he had not often seen in her before. One moment she lay there, heaving and panting, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. The next moment she pounced on him like an attacking lynx. She straddled his midsection and with her right hand found his erect member. A deep growl came from her throat as she aligned it with her opening and pressed down. In one steady movement, she impaled herself on his prick. When their pubes meshed, she rested for a heartbeat or two before she began a steady, rocking motion that sent shivers of delight through Pelle's body.Â

"Oooh, how I missed this!" she purred. "How I love this, how I love you!"

He pulled her face down to kiss her and she responded by sticking her tongue deep into his mouth while her rotating hips did wonderful things to his organ. He reciprocated, slamming his loins upwards to meet her strokes, and very soon their frenzied coupling was approaching an early climax. Pelle did not care for he felt that Ingeburg was still riding high on her waves of lust. He unloaded his seed into her with a hoarse cry, a cry that was echoed in higher pitch from Ingeburg's mouth. With three or four more strokes he impaled her before he slumped back feeling dizzy and detached.Â

Ingeburg sank down on his chest gasping for air. After a few heartbeats however, she hugged his neck closely and let her body drop to the side pulling Pelle on top of her, with his slowly wilting manhood still embedded in Ingeburg's snatch.Â

"Stay like this, Pelle! Cover me with your body!" she panted, still out of breath. "I love your weight on me."

He complied happily while his sensitive member picked up on the small spasms that still contracted Ingeburg's tight snatch. They lay like that for quite a while until their evaporating sweat cooled them down. With her hand Ingeburg wiped the sheen of perspiration from Pelle's forehead and kissed him.

"I've never felt my urge so strongly," she marvelled. "I felt like a mare in heat."

"So now I'm your stallion?" Pelle chuckled.

"Oh yes! My wonderful, strong stallion!" Ingeburg answered with conviction. Then her expression changed. "Do you think I may have caught?"

"You mean... ?"

"I want to bear your first child, Pelle," she answered smiling blissfully. "It's the only thing that would make me even happier than I am now."

"You will be a wonderful mother and I will love you even more if that's possible at all," Pelle returned sincerely.Â

He was rewarded with another tender kiss.

"Hold me, Pelle. Let me sleep with my head on your chest like I love it so much," Ingeburg said dreamily.

Pelle withdrew carefully from Ingeburg and lay down at her side. He put his arm under her shoulder and pulled her close. Ingeburg cuddled close, her head on his shoulder and close to his neck, while she draped one leg over him.

Before he fell asleep in this close embrace he heard her whisper one last time. "I love you with all my heart!"

°°°

They awoke to the crowing of a rooster and to the noises of the servants performing early morning chores in the courtyard. Ingeburg looked up into his face and smiled.

"Good morrow, Pelle. I love to wake up in your arms." Then her face changed. "Be that as it may, I need to use the chamber pot, and quickly!"

She disentangled herself from his arms and from the blanket and squatted over the earthen pot. He heard the healthy stream of her morning piss and had to get up himself. While Ingeburg used a wash rag and some water from a jar to clean herself, Pelle filled the chamber pot some more. Ingeburg gave him the wet rag, and he cleaned his midsection and his armpits.

"I miss our bathtub," Ingeburg sighed. "The men in the castle have a large tub but there is none for the womenfolk. I clean as well as I can using a rag and soap, but it isn't the same."

"Instigate the Lady Lieselotte to demand a tub for her use, then you can use it too," Pelle suggested with a grin.

"I may try that," Ingeburg smiled back. "Dress quickly or we'll miss the Morning Mass."

Pelle looked so obviously crestfallen that Ingeburg had to laugh.Â

"That's another thing I shall miss: staying in bed with you on Sunday mornings. Here I go to Mass twice and sometimes thrice a day."

Grumbling, Pelle put on his shirt, breeches and vest while Ingeburg combed and braided her hair. He helped her dress and then they went downstairs and across the courtyard to the chapel of the castle.Â

Here, in the house of God, there was no seating order. Only the Baron, his wife and his mother had their special chairs up front. The rest of the castle dwellers mingled in the narrow pews. Pelle and Ingeburg found themselves surrounded by a group of chambermaids who blushed and giggled when they saw the tall collier.

The service was mercifully short and Pelle suspected that the chaplain was as much in need of breaking his fast as everybody else. Soon they emerged from the chapel again and headed for the hall where the table had been laid earlier. Ingeburg went to the high table and asked for leave to break fast with Pelle which was graciously granted by the baron.

Baron Sigfrid was secretly baffled by Ingeburg's behaviour. The few times he had come across her in the recent days he had been surprised by her friendly demeanour, her modest bearing, and her good manners. His wife Lieselotte was full of praise for her claiming she was seeing her as a dear friend already.Â

Sigfrid was still suspicious of his half sister. After all, only time would tell how she would take to being a confidante of his wife. Her new position could still go to her head. She was Greta's daughter, after all. Yet, to his surprise and dismay he discovered that he actually liked to see Ingeburg. Mayhap his mother was right. The girl shared his father's blood; she could not be all like her mother.

Next his gaze fell on the Collier. He had meant to humiliate Greta by marrying her daughter to a collier. He had meant to cut his bastard half sister down to her true size. Lastly, he had meant to give the Collier a wife so that he could concentrate on making more of the coveted coal. Yet it seemed as if Ingeburg was the true beneficiary of the situation. Finally free from her mother's influence, her pleasant nature had come through in short time. The Baron had heard a few things about his half sister before. At sixteen she had already been infamous in Lemdalen and for miles around as a shrew and a harpy.Â

Mayhap the Collier had what it took to tame a shrew Sigfrid mused. Ingeburg's moaning and crying the last night had not gone unheard outside her chamber. This and the way she fawned around her husband was good indication that the Collier knew women.

Mayhap he should ask the man for advice, Sigfrid thought wryly. His own wife had not taken well to married life. On her wedding night when he approached her in bed she was stiff and unwelcoming. Her opening had not only been untried â€" anything else would have been scandalous â€" but also devoid of any wetness.Â

Sigfrid was not given to loose behaviour. His first wife had been his first woman when he took her on their wedding night. A dozen trysts with her summed up most of his experience with women. Then she died giving birth to a stillborn boy, and he was alone again. Now at thirty-two he was married to a young woman and he had no idea how to inflame her, how to make her ready. Their wedding night had been disastrous as he knew himself, and he had hurt her badly. Since then he had not approached her again for fear of hurting her again. He liked her, he even cherished her, and he felt inadequate in that he could not make her happy.Â

Throwing his feeling of shame to the wind he beckoned the chamberlain. "Have the Collier meet me outside on the rampart after he bode farewell to the Mistress Ingeburg," he ordered.

Meanwhile Ingeburg and Pelle finished their morning meal. They both knew that they had to part again and they were at a loss for words. It was Ingeburg who finally broke the impasse.

"Will you come again next Saturday?" she asked hopefully.

"Wild boars could not make me stay away from you," Pelle answered with passion.

Ingeburg hugged him with deep feeling. "Safe travels and health, Pelle. Please go now before I start to cry. I will miss you and await your return. I love you."

He hugged her back, again at a loss for words. Finally, he was able to croak a few words.

"I love you too, my sweet Ingeburg. May God bless us with a child!"

"I shall pray for that, too!" Ingeburg answered, suddenly uplifted again. "Thank you for reminding me of our hope! Now go and give Tjark my fond greetings."

They parted in the great hall and Pelle strode into the courtyard, his mind still with Ingeburg. Leaving her was tearing him apart. He noticed the chamberlain almost too late.

"Good morrow, Collier!"

"Good morrow, Chamberlain," Pelle replied hastily.

"Our Lord Sigfrid wishes for you to meat him up on the rampart on a word."

Suddenly Pelle felt apprehension. What was that about? It could only mean bad news, couldn't it? Had the Baroness come to the conclusion that he was no fitting husband for Ingeburg? With dread in his heart he ascended to the rampart. That the Baron was clearly uncomfortable increased Pelle's fears.

"Ah, there you are, good man," Baron Sigfrid greeted him.

"My Lord?" Pelle replied respectfully. Maybe there was a chance after all.

"I have ... I have need for your advice, Collier," Sigfrid began.

The weight that fell from Pelle's soul could almost he heard. He scrambled for a fitting answer.

"I would not know how a lowly collier can advise a great Lord, but I shall serve you as best I can."

"Nay, Collier! The things I want to ask are beyond the greatest of men sometimes. Who can truly claim to understand women? Yet it would appear that you have some idea seeing your good influence on Ing ... On my half sister."

Sigfrid was surprised himself at calling her his half sister. It was a first for him. He was confused, but he tried to proceed in his quest.

"How ... How can you make a woman ready so that she may enjoy the coupling as much as Ingeburg seems to like it?"

Pelle's eyes widened. This was not a line of questioning he had expected. He tried to clear his head.

"That is not easy to explain for me. I watched my parents as a child. I also watched my stepfather with my mother while growing up. Then there were the wenches in the Red Cockerel. They taught me what women like and what not. Taking time is important. Women are not inflamed as easily as us menfolk. Every woman is different, has different likes and dislikes. Some like tender touches, some like a strong hand. I know it is considered sinful, but the best way to learn is from a wench who knows about things."

"This sounds like an awful lot of effort."

Pelle smiled. "It's not so bad. Learning that is more fun than learning a craft."

"Er, do you by chance know of any wench in Birkenhain who may serve in such ways?"

Pelle quickly thought of the women and girls in the Red Cockerel. Most of them would be too afraid to correct the lord of the lands in his ways. Then Elsa came to his mind. She was outspoken and cocky, and she knew the world. She loved the coupling too, and she was not doing it for the silver only.

"There is one, Lord. Her name is Elsa. I only saw her once before I married, but I think she may be right. She has seen something of the world already and she enjoys the ways of the flesh just fine."

"Elsa, huh? Is she pretty?"

Pelle nodded. "She is no match for ... any noble lady, but she is pretty enough, and healthy of mind and limbs. Only, Lord, she speaks her mind freely. I would not wish for you to feel offended by her free talk. She's not shy."

"Methinks if she is to teach me she will have to be outspoken. I shall arrange to see her. I thank you for your good advice. Oh, this should stay between us. Your wife is already close to my lady. If this became known to her it would defeat the purpose of our talk."

"My ears are like a trap for words spoken in secret, Lord. They enter easily but they never escape."

"Good. How are you faring once again on your own?"

Pelle could not quite repress the sigh that came up. "Tilke, the forge master, helped me to find an apprentice yesterday and a housemaid, too. I will try my best to make more coal."

"That's good to hear. The Count, my father, will buy whatever we can produce and for a good price. Keep your eyes open for young men who want to enter your trade. I'll give you a hundred Groschen for any new collier who passes your apprenticeship!"

"I shall do my best, Lord!" Pelle replied. That was an incentive to be sure! A hundred Groschen would go a long way paying for the building of a masonry kiln.

Obviously the talking was done, and Pelle bowed once more doffing his hat. Leaving the castle he found his wagon and Tjark at the stables. Tjark looked ruffled but satisfied. Pelle told him about the apprentice and his sister and they picked up the two orphans telling them to sit in the wagon bed. Gebhardt was off duty at the gate but Pelle knew most of the sentries, and he was waved through without inspection.



-------

Chapter 12: How Pelle Finds Help

Once they were on the high road, Pelle related Ingeburg's greetings and suggested he take Tjark to Birkenhain more often for him to have some fun in his life. That was when Tjark cleared his throat.

"Pelle, I have question. Do you think I may help you more often with your charring?"

"Why?"

"I've been thinking lately. You seem to lead a good life in the forest. You have the right to hunt, you have clean spring water to drink, a sturdy cabin, and now even a wife. They pay you good silver for your coal. I was thinking: now that Ingeburg is in Birkenhain, do you have need for more help?

"You know that Hanke will inherit our lands. Father will not split them. I know he's right, but what of me? I don't want to be Hanke's farmhand for the rest of my days. I want to marry one day and have a family. Also, Hanke is courting Luise; her father is offering a good dowry. I couldn't stand to live under the same roof with her and even take orders from her."

"You rather want to be a collier?" Pelle asked, mildly astonished. He could understand Tjark's reasoning for leaving his father's house, but to become a lowly collier?

"Yes, why not? It gives me a chance to be my own master one day."

Pelle thought about it. The Baron had told him to find more people for the trade. He would even receive a reward of one hundred Groschen. Why not, then? He and Tjark had always got along, and Ingeburg would love the thought too.

"Let's talk about it," he started. "You are a grown man and you have helped me often in the past. There is not so much left to learn for you. I would have to pay you a share of what we char or it would seem wrong. On the other hand, with your help and with what young Matthias can help, we may char twice as much coal and more."

"I will not argue with you about paying me a share," Tjark grinned. "May I speak to my father about it?"

Pelle nodded. Yes, it would be nice to have somebody around. With the added responsibility for Matthias and Marja it would also be good to have another grown-up around.

"Talk to him, find out what he thinks. Being a collier is hard work at times. Say, have you a girl in mind already?"

Tjark turned pink. "No, not really."

For the rest of the way, Pelle and Tjark talked about their plans. The youngsters in the wagon bed were also talking in low voices. When they left the high road and rode the narrow path into the forest, that talk ceased and the girl in particular looked about with fear.

"Don't worry about the forest, you hear," Pelle told them. "I'll teach you all you need to be safe here. See that brook? It flows through my clearing. We have good, fresh water all the time."

The wagon tumbled madly over the path, and they all had to hold on.

"We're almost there," Pelle continued. "See! That's my cabin. And there, Matthias, that is my coal pile."

Pelle stopped the wagon, and with Tjark's assistance, backed it against the lean-to that served as shelter for the horse and the donkey. The old donkey was grazing peacefully and soon the horse joined it in the small corral.

Pelle unlocked the door and showed the siblings in. Marja's eyes opened wide when she saw the costly cookwares and the smoked deer leg over the fireplace.

"I have only two beds," Pelle told them, pointing up to the platform. "There's room enough though. We'll build two new cots and we'll hang a blanket to give Marja some space of her own. For tonight we'll find something."

Tjark had studied the cabin. "That's really a nice place to live in, Pelle. I'll ask my father for help. Mayhap he will give me the materials to build a cabin for myself. Once Ingeburg returns, I cannot intrude on you."

"Would that will happen soon," Pelle sighed. "Once you get used to having someone around it's awfully lonely here."

Pelle borrowed Tjark the donkey and the cart to ride to Lemdalen and soon his brother-in-law disappeared between the trees. He turned to the youngsters.

"Now, the first task for you two is to clean up. We'll fill the bathtub and then you'll wash and comb. Those rags will have to go. I'll find you something to wear. Grab a bucket each of you and follow me!"

He took two buckets himself and led the way to the brook. He showed them a place where the water was clear and deep enough to fill the buckets. They dragged the filled buckets into the cabin. Pelle started a fire and they filled the first large kettle with water to heat. The rest was poured into the wooden tub. They made two more trips to the brook to fill the tub.

This time of the year the water in the brook was not really cold, but Pelle knew that cold water did not clean nearly as well as warm water. They would have to wait for the water to heat. To bridge the time Pelle laid the table. The bread was only five days old – quite edible – and Pelle cut shavings off the smoked deer leg. The two youngsters forgot their shyness as they devoured the delicious food.

While the water was still heating, Pelle showed Marja where to find everything in the cabin. He could smell her fear whenever he came close to her. Suddenly, realisation washed over him. The girl had been violated. Somewhere during their flight a man or men had taken advantage of the defenceless orphan, and now she was scared of any male save for her brother. Pelle turned. The boy was busy sweeping dirt from the cabin. He spoke to Marja again but in a very low voice.

"Marja, you are safe with me. Whatever happened to you it will not happen with me. I'll protect you, too."

She looked up then, anguish showing in her face. "I did not want it!" she whispered. "I begged them to stop. I tried to fight, but they just laughed and did it anyway."

"Who did it? Somebody in Birkenhain?"

She shook her head. "No, it was a moon ago in Bergheim. Three soldiers of the City caught me outside our camp."

"Were you hurt badly? Do you need a healer's help?"

Again, she shook her head. "I was bleeding something fiercely right after, but it went away." She looked at him again. "I can't help being afraid."

"I guess you can't," Pelle sighed. "I'll try to keep my distance from you, right? I'll also warn Tjark not to scare you. I can't help one thing though: you are going into that tub, and you are going first. I'll hang a blanket from the rafters so we can't see you. You have to wash your body with soap and water, and your hair, too. I'll not have a dirty girl prepare my food. Savvy that?"

Marja nodded.

"You are almost a grown woman, Marja, and you need to keep clean. I'll be gone to Birkenhain most Saturdays to see my wife. I want you and your brother to take a bath every Saturday. I want you to wash your hands before you start cooking or laying the table. Look after your brother, too, and see that he washes. There are no fleas and lice in this house and I don't want any."

By now the water was hot enough and Pelle poured it into the tub. Then, as promised, he hung a blanket from the rafters shielding the tub from view. He laid out a homespun dress of his mother for Marja to wear and showed her the soap bar. As instructed, Marja threw her old rags to the floor and Pelle had Matthias bring them outside along with his own filthy rags. When Marja was washed and dressed again, Pelle made the boy jump into the tub. Then he set to work with a comb to untangle Marja's hair and – more importantly – to de-lice her head. He discovered a few lice eggs and he combed the tangles from her black hair. Marja sat by the kitchen fire to let her hair dry while Pelle repeated the procedure with her brother.

He then found his own old bedstead in a corner of the platform. They cleared that corner of other things and screened it off with a blanket. The siblings said they were used to sharing a bed and for the time being that was fine with Pelle.

With the sleeping arrangements settled, Pelle set Marja to work on the supper. He had started to soak grain and peas before he left for Birkenhain and now they were ready for cooking. Carrots and a radish root were cut up and added as was a thick slice of smoked pork belly, diced into small cubes. From his small salt container, one of his most valued possessions, Pelle added a pinch of salt to complement a sating supper dish. It was enough to be warmed over twice in the next days.

After supper, Pelle sent the tired youngsters to bed while he looked after the horse one last time. It was getting dark and rather than wasting a tallow light Pelle turned in himself. Once during the night he woke in alarm when a sobbing whimper came out of the corner where the siblings slept. He heard the hushing voice of Matthias as he calmed his sister. Pelle shook his head. Soldiers! They did what they pleased if the lord of the lands did not restrain them. At least in this regard, Baron Sigfrid was a good ruler, for his soldiers were well disciplined.

When Pelle woke up, he found that Marja was already busying herself rekindling the fire. She was fully dressed and her hair was braided neatly. Wistfully, Pelle remembered Ingeburg standing at the hearth in a thin shift or even buck naked every morning during their short weeks together. He shook his head. No use getting morose. He swung his legs from the bed and stood naked for a moment before he found his work pants. Dressed in his pants, with his morning wood tenting the cloth, he scurried down the ladder and through the door to water a tree. That took care of his swollen member too, and he re-entered the cabin in a state that would not scare Marja.

"Good morrow, Marja," he greeted her. She nodded back. "There is a bag of cracked oats to cook oatmeal from. Add some of the dried blueberries for sweetness. There are mint leaves in that crock, so let's have mint tea. I'll be back in a short while."

He quickly strode to the brook, downstream of where they filled their buckets, and knelt down. With both hands he scooped up water to wash his face, chest, and armpits. He flushed his mouth, too, and drank some water before he stood and returned to the cabin. Marja was heating water.

"I will try to trade some milk when I go to the village next time," he told her. Oatmeal would taste better with milk.

Matthias had woken up in the meantime and Pelle sent him outside to wash his hands and face before they had their breakfast. Pelle let the girl work on the breakfast without interference while he planned the day in his mind. The food was almost done when Matthias stormed into the cabin.

"There's horsemen coming!" he shouted excitedly.

Pelle glanced at his bow and quiver and stood. With practised ease, he bent the stave to engage the string. Holding the weapon ready he peered out through the door. He relaxed. It was Hunold and Tjark who came riding up to the cabin. Pelle laid his bow aside and stepped out to greet his in-laws.

"Good morrow, Father Hunold," he shouted and waved at Tjark who gave him a smirk in return.

Both men slid down from their horses' backs and tied the reins to a post.

"Good morrow, Pelle," Hunold answered. "Can we talk?"

"Why, yes," Pelle answered. "Come in, both of you, and share breakfast with us!"

"Don't mind if I do," Hunold grunted. They followed Pelle in.

"Hunold, this is Marja. She is tending the cabin. Her brother Matthias is my apprentice."

"I heard that you have taken in two orphans." He looked at the girl, clearly worried. "Does Ingeburg know about the girl? I mean, she's a pretty one, isn't she?"

"Ingeburg saw and approved of them in Birkenhain," Pelle answered. "You are right, though. Marja is a pretty lass, but she is young and shy. There is no need for worries."

Marja blushed crimson and Hunold tried to make good for his gaffe.

"I'm sorry, Lass. No father likes to see his daughter's husband with a pretty girl."

"I have no use for men," Marja declared vehemently.

Hunold was slightly taken aback, but he let it go. "Pelle, this son of mine has it in his head to become a collier. He says you agreed to apprentice him."

Pelle shook his head. "There was no talk of him being my apprentice. He's a grown man, and he knows a lot about charring already. I can show him the trade, but it will be more like working together. I can use the help and Tjark says he wants to be his own master one day."

"I told you, Father," Tjark cut in. "And you know how I am with Hanke. There'll be fighting all the time. You and Hanke better be rid of me before his wedding."

Hunold nodded. "Tjark says you make a silver Groschen for two bushels of coal at the Baron's forge. I never knew. Rudlo doesn't pay that much, does he?"

"Rudlo's a friend and he's helping me out often. I charge him less. But Tjark got it right."

"Damn! That's quite some silver you're raking in then. Small wonder you have such nice things here." He squinted at Pelle. "And you're keeping mum about it, too. You're a sharp fellow for one so young. What are you doing with all that silver?"

Pelle actually grinned. "I give it to Levy who lends it to people who need silver. They have to pay back with interest. Levy and I split the interest."

Hunold whistled. "Your silver earns you silver? Do you trust the Jew?"

Pelle nodded. "Levy is the most honest man I know. His uncle Tevje guarantees my silver."

"Tevje? The trader Tevje? Son, you know very rich people."

Pelle shrugged. "They're just people. They're Jews and you know they're not allowed to enter the crafts. That's why they are traders and money lenders."

"I know," Hunold sighed. "I borrowed from Levy once to buy a new bull. With the interest he demanded I made sure to pay him back soon or I would have paid twice for that bull."

Pelle nodded. "That's true, but think of it: if somebody borrows and dies right after, Levy has a hard time to collect on the debt. Also, there are always people who try to out-wit him and stiff him for the debt."

"I suppose you're right," Hunold agreed. "Nobody's forcing anybody to borrow money either. Next time I need a new bull I'll better go straight to you."

Pelle nodded earnestly. "You do that. What of Tjark then?"

"Right. I see where he wants to join you here. Hanke's not pleased, though. He has counted on Tjark help to run the farm."

Tjark snorted. "It's more like he counted on me doing the hard work. I never minded working for you, Father. You work hard yourself. Hanke's idea of work is telling me what to do."

Hunold flushed a little. "That will have to change," he mumbled. He looked up. "Tjark, if you are set on this you have my blessing. Do you plan to settle on this clearing next to Pelle?"

"That would depend on Pelle, Father," Tjark answered looking at his friend.

Pelle shrugged. "The clearing's big enough, and it's growing. I wouldn't mind having kin close by and Ingeburg would like it too if she's ever allowed to return to me. In the meantime I would have somebody to watch over the place while I visit her in Birkenhain."

Hunold stroked his beard. "I see. Tjark, I'm thinking that I shall give you the fixings for a cabin of your own. I will hire Lukas the Carpenter, and we'll come and help build it once the harvest is done. That, and two horses of your own. That should set you up."

Tjark jumped up and hugged his father. "You'll not regret this! Wait a few years, and when you're tired of Hanke you'll come out here to live with me!"

Hunold shook his head. "Luise is not bad and Greta is not haranguing me anymore, now that she lost her mind. You know, I told her that Ingeburg lives in Birkenhain Castle now, and she didn't know her name anymore."

Nobody commented on that. With breakfast finished the men walked outside and surveyed the clearing. There was a suitable spot for a cabin, just across the brook. They walked over and inspected it. Two or three trees had to be uprooted, but there was a stand of fine, straight pine trees close by that would serve for rafters and beams.

The three men solemnly shook hands on the deal and crossed the brook again. Hunold and Tjark mounted their horses while Tjark promised to be back in the afternoon with most of his belongings and the donkey cart. They agreed that he would move in with Pelle until his own cabin was ready.

When Tjark returned, a little after noon time, he grinned widely. "Hanke did not like it one bit! He never thought I'd leave and he'd have to work himself. I can tell you, Pelle, he doesn't like you much right now!"

"How is Luise?" Pelle asked out of curiosity, and he saw a shadow fall on Tjark's features.

"It's not easy for her. Her father is not a good farmer. He let his horses eat ragwort, the fool, and now they're dead. Luise and her mother must pull the plough until he recovers his loss."

Pelle shook his head. Luise's father, Bertolf, had taken over the farm from his wife's father and was doing his best to ruin it.

Pelle helped Tjark to unload a fine bed frame and a freshly filled straw mattress from the wagon. The was also a large bundle of wooden boards on the wagon. Using these and a number of the precious iron nails Pelle owned, the two young men quickly fashioned three partitions on the platform. The middle one was for Pelle, and the two on either side were for Tjark and for the siblings. Using the boards, they also widened the bedstead for Matthias and Marja.

The afternoon passed over this work and they sat down for the supper Marja had prepared. The girl was a good cook, that much was evident. She had made simple pastries, using ground up, smoked venison, cabbage, onions, and leek. The flour was a contribution from Hunold.

"This is good, girl," Tjark complimented the shy orphan. "My aunt is a good cook too, but after fifteen years her cooking gets old."

"We shan't starve, that much is clear," Pelle agreed.

"I ... I'm glad you like it," Marja answered.

After their supper Pelle and his new helpers cleaned and sharpened the axes, saws, and other tools while Marja did the clean up. Once the dusk settled they went to bed, each in their new partitions.

With the first light, Marja busied herself again with the breakfast. The men went outside to visit the latrine and to wash in the creek. They ate the last of the bread Ingeburg had baked but Marja promised to start on the baking right away. While the girl started the clean up and collected clothes for the laundry the men headed out to the clearing.

They started a new kiln right beside the last one. After felling three trees that stood in the way, they cut off the limbs and used them to lay out the shape of the pile. The trunks were dragged to where Tjark planned his new cabin and left there for later use. Next, the three men began to collect dry deadwood from the fringe of the forest near the new kiln. Under Pelle's direction and explanations, they interlocked the small branches and twigs into a tightly interleaved meshwork that would hold even after the wood was charred. If Pelle had been delighted with the speed of work he and Ingeburg had managed, it was a revelation to see what three men could achieve.

At noontime, Marja came carrying the pot with grain and split pea soup, with some wooden mugs and spoons. They sat in the early autumn sun enjoying their noon meal and discussing the work. After their noon meal, they continued their work for some time until Pelle took the wagon and loaded coal on it for a delivery to Lemdalen.

Rudlo received him with a smile and Pelle unloaded forty bushel of coal into his friend's coal bunker. The smith Tymo took the second load of coal, and Pelle bartered with him for a new and larger skillet. Tymo promised to have it finished by the next week.

The dusk was settling already when Pelle drove up to his cabin. Tjark and Matthias helped him to unhitch the horse and to stow away the wagon. They sat for supper to the shine of Pelle's precious oil lamp and went to sleep soon thereafter.

For the rest of the week the kiln grew steadily. They had a light drizzle of rain on the Thursday but it did not affect them much. Come Saturday morning Pelle was on his way to Birkenhain, a load of coal on his wagon. He figured that he had another three loads in the clearing, meaning that the next pile would have to be ready in four weeks. He had to grin to himself. If nothing else, his desire to be with Ingeburg every weekend would make him wealthy.

After making his delivery at the forge and collecting his silver, Pelle went to the Red Cockerel for old times' sakes and ate a noon meal. The wenches who flocked around him were disappointed when they learned of his marriage and slightly in awe of him, for rumours were spreading through Birkenhain about Greta's daughter and how she had been received into the Baron's household.

In spite of the steadfastness with which he declined the charming and not-so-charming offers Elsa came up to his table.

"May I speak with you, Collier?"

Pelle nodded friendly and ordered a mug of thin ale for her. She sat down opposite him and looked at him for a while.

"I was called to the castle last Tuesday," she said under her breath. "Did you give the Baron my name?"

Pelle nodded, undecided whether to expect gratitude or a tirade. Her smile took away his worries.

"Thank you!" she whispered. "I'm on the Baron's retainer for a full month. I am to ... well, I should not speak about it."

"I can guess," Pelle smiled and Elsa grinned back.

"You know, with the gold he has promised me, I can buy a dowry." She looked around. "I have no wish to spend my best years in holes like this. With a good dowry in gold I can still find a decent man."

"I hope all will turn out as you wish for," Pelle replied warmly. "You are a sharp young woman. You'll make a good wife for some man."

Elsa leaned back and regarded him.

"How is your wife like? We hear the wildest rumours. Some claim she is her mother's true daughter and to be feared. Others say she is sweet and loyal to the young Baroness."

"She is sweet and she is loyal to me. That is all I know and all I care about. I wish she were with me and not in that castle. I can see her but once every week."

"You are smitten with her, Pelle," Elsa laughed. "Don't be ashamed! I am happy for you. You are one of the nicest men I ever took upstairs, and she is lucky to have you."

"I thank you for your good opinion, Elsa," Pelle smiled. "Yes, be happy for me. I never knew I could feel that way for a woman, let alone for Ingeburg. I had her painted all wrong in my head. I thought her aloof and a shrew, but she isn't anything like that. Her mother put stupid ideas in her head all her life, but she is ready to learn and to change her ways. And she's so beautiful!"

"I heard that too. We have a lot of men from the castle here and they all say she's so pretty. They also say she is dressing modestly and is downright hostile to any advance." Elsa smiled at Pelle's expression. "She is true, Pelle; we'd hear the gossip in here if she weren't."

That evening Ingeburg sat at supper with Pelle in their now customary position between the courtiers and the servants. There was no opportunity for any meaningful talk during the evening meal, but they strolled the ramparts afterwards and told each other about their week. In a way the enforced separation was good for their relationship, because when they talked about their separate lives they learned to speak about their feelings and sentiments. Ironically the separation made them more intimate with each other.

The separation certainly whetted their appetite for each other. When they stumbled to mass the next morning to the amused grins of the other castle dwellers, they had not slept more than two hours and Pelle felt utterly wrung out. Behind the amused grins of the courtiers and servants there was more though. The women in particular regarded Pelle with barely disguised interest, while the younger men held the tall collier almost in awe. Ingeburg had tried to stifle her moans and cries biting down on a pillow, but what had escaped that gag had been enough. Those who had not heard her muffled cries had been told about them and as always the story grew with each retelling.

Even the noble Lieselotte cast more than a few furtive glances at the husband of her companion. He was tall, but that she had known before. He was handsome with his even features she reluctantly admitted. He showed manners at table and treated Ingeburg with respect and consideration she observed. However, all this did not explain the smouldering looks Ingeburg cast at him. To Lieselotte, the gentle and modest Ingeburg was another person around her collier husband. What did he do to her or with her? Lieselotte could not believe that the physical coupling was sufficient. She herself had become used to her husband's efforts, and thanks to Rebecca's ointments and salves she had not suffered further injuries. She even found herself slightly stimulated a few times, but not enough to make her look forward to her wifely duties.

It was true that Sigfrid had been more considerate of late. He had kissed her, had fondled her breasts, and had even rubbed her sex gently before entering her. Her own apprehension in the marital bed was too great, however, for her to be relaxed enough to appreciate his touches.

What is necessary at all? Was not lust sinful and the work of the devil? Still, the bliss Ingeburg displayed after her Sundays could not be something bad Lieselotte thought. Her exuberant mood always carried over to Lieselotte making her a little happier too.

"To think that I wanted to hurt her by marrying her to the Collier!" Sigfrid suddenly spoke up under his breath. "I may have failed before, but never like this."

"I hope you think differently of her by now, my husband," Lieselotte answered. "She is a wonderful friend and companion for me. She is also truly grateful to you, for giving her to her collier."

Sigfrid nodded. "I see it and I begin to believe it. To think that she was born and raised by that woman, Greta!"

"Greta could be pleasant, even with me," the old Baroness Ermegart spoke up to Sigfrid's right. "Come to think of it, she never treated me without respect. Much of her shrewish ways may have been due to her fear of losing what she had sacrificed so much to gain. In her heart, she must have known that her time with your father would be over soon. He never kept his girls even as long as he kept her."

Lieselotte raised her eyebrows at the dispassionate words of her husband's mother.

"Let us hope that Ingeburg's life will be better," she said, and even Baron Sigfrid nodded to that.

After breakfast, Pelle and Ingeburg enjoyed a short stroll before Pelle had to bid his farewell again. He had some business to do he told Ingeburg, and he did not want to return to the cabin too late. She smiled her understanding and kissed Pelle with much feeling before she returned to her duties in the Baroness Lieselotte's bower.



-------

Chapter 13: How Gebhardt meets young Marja


Leaving the castle after visiting with Ingeburg, Pelle strode for Tilke's forge. He found his friend and the mason Wenzel waiting for him. For the next two hours, Pelle tried to explain to the mason what he wanted and how he wanted it to be built. It turned out that the master mason had seen permanent kilns in his young years when he had been a journeyman mason in southern lands. They compared what they knew, and agreed on a construction similar to an oversized beehive.

Pelle wanted to have one built before the winter to try out its function, but he also let the mason know that he would want four at least. They haggled for a while before they agreed on the mason's payment, and in the end, Pelle agreed to pay him twelve Ducats gold for each stone kiln. In return, the mason promised to send out his senior journeyman on the next day, to start with collecting stones and clay. With Tilke as witness, Pelle and Wenzel shook hands over the deal.

Next, Pelle visited Levy's shop in the Jew Alley. He had eighty silver Groschen, this week's and last week's earnings and equalling four golden Ducats, which he handed to Levy. Sundays were quiet days for Levy seeing that his Christian debtors were honouring their day of rest. The same as always, Pelle received a note from Levy stating the balance of his account with Levy and his kin. It now stood at the huge sum of one-hundred-fifty-eight Ducats. That was a lot of gold, the result of over ten years of toil from Enewalt and Pelle. It would be enough to buy him a farm the size of Hunold's. In Levy's hands, however, that sum yielded him over twenty Ducats of interest every year, and no farm could turn out that much surplus, not counting the hard work involved. Besides, he was no farmer.

Yet, he would need some of that gold back to pay for the mason's work, and he forewarned his friend of that need. Levy nodded to that telling his young friend that it would not be a problem. He would make sure that he would hold the gold ready once the construction began.

After settling his business with Levy, Pelle returned to his cabin in the forest. He arrived to find Tjark lazing in the grass with Marja sitting close. Matthias was nowhere to be seen. Marja told Pelle that the lad was looking for the snares he had set. It was a day of rest for them all and Pelle forced himself to enjoy the leisure.

On the next morning, Pelle fired the kiln. While is started to burn, they began collecting wood for the next pile. Pelle had never done it this way, but they had come up with the idea from his plans with the stone kilns. It would give them a ten-day head start on the next kiln.

Working with two helpers and three horses and having somebody to look after the cabin made a huge difference. They could use the horses to uproot trees, mostly dead ones, and then cut them up with the huge saw Pelle had bought at the Birkenhain forge. When she was not busy in the cabin, Marja would also come out and collect berries and herbs. When the sun stood high they would eat large slices of bread with cheese. If the weather was rainy, Marja brought hot teas for them. It took them less than three weeks to build the next kiln that way.

At a place downstream from the cabin on a raised ground, the masons and helpers from Birkenhain started the construction of the first kiln. During the first week, the senior journeyman, a fellow named Lingolf, had made use of a sturdy wagon and three helpers to bring loose stones from the bottom of a nearby cliff. Using iron levers they had broken loose more stones from the top of the cliff, and a sizeable pile of stones lay now ready for the mason. Wenzel only came by once every three days to supervise the work. It was Lingolf who stayed at the site with three workmen, and who piled up ring after ring of stones on a foundation laid with the largest blocks they had found.

A low door frame was masoned on the southern face, later to be closed with an iron door, and several air vents were also left in the lower part of the wall. Already, the structure was almost a full klafter high and three steps across, and a wooden scaffold was now erected for the domed roof.

They fired the new wood pile on a Wednesday and on the following Saturday, Pelle headed for Birkenhain again, leaving the smouldering kiln in Tjark's care. His wagon was loaded high with sacks of charcoal and he brought over one-hundred bushel to the forge, worth fifty silver Groschen. At the forge the master smith met him and assured him that they would buy every last bit of coal. Another neighbouring nobleman had heard of the fine quality steel armour produced in Birkenhain, and the forge would have to be expanded for the extra work. Already Pelle saw over a dozen new labourers, a sign of the things to come. He was glad to answer that he could produce twice as much coal as before.

Before he strode uphill to the castle, Pelle changed into his Sunday best. Thus dressed he went past Levy's home and saw his friend and Rebecca standing in their door and talking to the goldsmith Schmu'el, Samuel to the town folk. Pelle greeted them friendly and wished them peace and leisure on their day of rest. They exchanged some pleasantries and talked about people they knew. Seeing the goldsmith gave Pelle an idea. He knew that Samuel would not talk business on the Sabbath, but Pelle resolved to call on the man before he left Birkenhain. He placed a small bag of fine coal on Levi's windowsill before he left giving Rebecca a friendly nod. She nodded back but she would not touch that bag before sunset.

Entering the castle yard he could already see Ingeburg sitting under the ancient oak tree. She stood as soon as she saw him and rushed to meet him. Her embrace was fierce and for a moment Pelle feared she had bad news. When she let go of his neck however, he saw nothing but joy in her lovely blue eyes.

"Pelle, the Good Lord has blessed our joining!" she gushed. "I believe I am with child!"

For a brief moment, Pelle had to close his eyes and he breathed deeply.

"Are you quite certain?" he asked, his voice a bit unsteady.

Ingeburg nodded happily. "I'm showing all the signs. Rebecca agrees and so does the Baroness. Aren't you happy, Pelle?"

Instantly, Pelle held her face in both hands and kissed her. "Forgive me, my love. I am new to being a husband and new to becoming a father. Things like that never happened in my families. I was an only child and we had no neighbours and friends in the forest. I am scared. This is such ... much a huge task! I must take good care of you and..."

"You are doing that already, Pelle. Do not worry. We shall have a child and we shall bring it up as best we can."

Ingeburg certainly was not afraid. She was glowing with happiness.

"Do we ... Should we stop making love now?" Pelle asked with some trepidation.

"No, my love. Believe me, I need your loving touch, now more than ever. Come now, let us sit under the tree."

She pulled him to the stone bench under the big oak and they sat together holding hands.

"Pelle, there is bad news too. The Baroness Ermegart insists that I stay here. She holds that our child will be her husband's first grandchild and destined for a life in Birkenhain. She is already putting pressure on the baron to find a position for you in Birkenhain. He resists so far, claiming that you cannot be replaced at your work. She keeps prodding though."

"I am of two minds, Ingeburg. If I lived here we could be together. Yet, leaving my cabin would mean no clean water, no quiet at night, no hunting. If pressed I shall accede to the Baroness' wish of course, but I would rather have you back in the forest."

"Would that became true," Ingeburg sighed. "But then I would miss the friendship of Lieselotte. Pelle, she is a wonderful woman and a true friend, and she needs me."

"I can see that, Ingeburg. Mayhap we should count our blessings. We love each other and our union will soon bear fruit. I earn good silver with my trade. Who knows, in ten years I may just buy enough land and rent it out for lease for our livelihood. I believe I could do that already, but my friends at the forge rely on me. Let us be happy with what we have."

Ingeburg beamed at him. "Yes, you are right, Pelle. We have so much already, let us not be malcontent. Tell me now, how is Tjark faring?"

"He will soon be able to fend for his own, but we talked about it. It is so much easier to work together and we plan to keep it that way and just split the earnings. I believe he may have set his eyes on Marja. I hope this will work out. The girl has no dowry but she can keep house like nobody I know." He realised his gaffe. "You would be better had you learned early."

Ingeburg smiled. "I know that I was not up to the task, Pelle. Still, those months together in our cabin were the best time of my life."

"Living with you those first weeks was wonderful. Every day I found a reason to love you more."

Ingeburg turned to him now with smouldering eyes and her voice oozed barely veiled desire. "There is an hour or more time before the evening meal. Let us go to my chamber. I want to give you yet another reason."

They barely made it to the great hall before the Baron and his wife entered. They caught amused looks from the other retainers but Ingeburg and Pelle were sailing on a cloud of bliss and did not care. The old baroness was already sitting on the dais and she gave them a calculating look. Shortly after, the baron entered with his wife and the meal began.

"Your half-sister is with child," the baroness told her son under her breath. "I believe she just told the collier."

"Judging from what can be heard every Saturday night I deem that a small wonder," Sigfrid replied without thinking. Only when he saw Lieselotte bite her lip did he realise his gaffe. He patted his wife's hand. "Never worry, my dear. Soon you will be in the same state. Ingeburg had a head start, that is all."

"I am happy for her, really," Lieselotte said in reply. "She cannot help but share the bliss she feels. I am grateful for her presence. I look forward to motherhood, too, my husband."

To her own surprise she really did. Her urge to become a mother even made her encourage her husband of late. She still felt barely anything when he mounted her, but for the sake of motherhood she gladly endured the coupling. She also felt a certain tenderness for her husband for his obvious efforts to accommodate her and to avoid hurt. Love she did not, could not feel.

Perhaps, that was wrong. Lieselotte felt love, but it was a deviant, unspeakable love. Whenever Ingeburg entered her chambers, Lieselotte had a rush of feelings. Sometimes when they did needlework together, Lieselotte caught herself gazing at Ingeburg's graceful neck, her beautiful face, and the luxurious blonde tresses. It was wrong to have such feelings for a woman, a married woman at that who lived for the weekly visits of her husband. Still, Lieselotte could not help herself against the fantasies that frequently bubbled up in her mind.

"Would it be soon, my dear wife," Sigfrid answered. "For the time, let us share in Ingeburg's happiness. I said it before, I say it again: I misjudged her badly. Were it not for the coal that is needed urgently at my forge I should find a task here in Birkenhain for Pelle. From what I hear though he is at least getting wealthy. He took two-hundred Groschen from my forge in the last month alone."

"I have never seen charcoal made," Lieselotte remarked. "Is it difficult?"

"I don't understand the process either," Sigfrid conceded. "How about we ride out one day and have a look? We can spend the night in Lemdalen in the reeve's manor."

"I would love that," Lieselotte answered, already warming to the idea of an outing. "We should forewarn the ollier and the reeve."

"Yes, that be better," Sigfrid laughed. "What about you, mother?"

"I like the thought, too. I have not seen the new church in Lemdalen yet, and the autumn leaves should be in full colour."

"It is settled, then. Let us give the collier fair warning. Holla, Cupbearer! Have the collier Pelle come to me after the meal!"

Every man and woman in the hall heard the order, yet the cupbearer dutifully relayed the message to a flustered Pelle. Ingeburg pressed his hand.

"Have no fear, Pelle. It cannot be bad. The Baron has treated me with much kindness of late."

Pelle nodded but he spent the rest of the meal in apprehension. Then, when the retainers and servants filed from the hall, Pelle made his way to the dais and bowed.

"You asked for my presence, Lord?"

"Yes, Pelle. We spoke of you at table and my wife has expressed a wish to see your work. Frankly, I am curious, too. We shall come by your dwelling with a small hunting party, say ten strong, on Tuesday. Prepare to see your wife then. She can ride in my mother's carriage."

Pelle bowed again feeling mixed emotions.

"I shall have food ready for you and your train, Lord. The kiln will still be charring on Tuesday but the previous pile is only opened halfway and the Lady can see the workings of it."

"Tuesday it is, then," the Baron smiled. "We shall spend the night in the reeve's manor in Lemdalen but I see no reason why Ingeburg may not spend the night at your cabin."

That brought a smile to Pelle's lips which in turn caused the Baron to laugh out.

"We shall have to see about a more worthwhile task for you, but right now your coal is too important for my forge. Bear with the separation for a year or two. 'Twill be to your advantage in the end."

Pelle nodded but he saw no advantage in being separated from Ingeburg. The baron dismissed him and Pelle joined Ingeburg at the lower table again. He told her of the planned visit and her beaming smile told him she looked forward to seeing their cabin again.

They went for a walk, this time down the hill and into the town. Most shops were closed with their owners enjoying their evening's rest but in Jew Alley normal life had begun again after sunset. Sabbath was over and Pelle and Ingeburg found Levy open for business. He spoke with two debtors and therefore Rebecca asked them to wait in their private room. Levy joined them a short while later. After greeting Ingeburg, he led Pelle to the adjacent room to conduct their business. Ingeburg stayed with Rebecca and the two women talked about their last week.

Meanwhile Pelle deposited silver coins with his friend. He and Tjark had agreed on a split of the earnings. One third of the silver went into a pot and was used to buy food and tools. Of the remainder, Pelle received half, Tjark got a third, and the rest, one sixth, went to Matthias and Marja. This would change once Tjark had his own cabin but until then they found the arrangement fair.

His business done, Pelle collected Ingeburg and they strolled back to the castle. In Ingeburg's chamber they found her maid, Lina, busy straightening the dishevelled bed and the girl blushed fiercely. She was done a little while later and rushed from the chamber to Pelle and Ingeburg's amused smiles. The air in the chamber was cool and they undressed quickly and snuggled under the feather filled covers.

They made love once more and without hurry. There was no loud moaning or cries, just content sighs and a few giggles on Ingeburg's part when Pelle rained kisses over her tummy. Their climaxes were quiet and intimate in nature, satisfying their emotional needs. They fell asleep in a tight embrace and slept peacefully until the bell called for the castle dwellers to assemble for morning mass.

Ingeburg had no pressing tasks after breakfast since Lieselotte spent the entire morning with her husband. Pelle deferred his departure until after the noon meal, and the young couple sat together in the great hall most of the time. The two fireplaces there made for a cozy warmth and most of the castle dwellers whose duties allowed it spent their morning sitting at the large table. They made plans for Ingeburg's visit that week. Ingeburg felt strongly that she should also visit Lemdalen to see her mother. They agreed that Ingeburg would spend the night at the cabin and visit the village on the next morning, well in time to join the Baron's party for the journey back to Birkenhain.

Noon meals on Sundays were opulent in Birkenhain Castle. Even Pelle with his large appetite was astonished at the quantities of food and drink on the tables. He barely ate his fill, reasoning that he'd fill out like a capon were he to eat at the Baron's table all the time. After the meal and a short stroll around the court yard Pelle bade Ingeburg good-bye and walked downhill to the stable where he kept his horse and wagon. With the wagon empty, he let the horse run at a trot along the highway. It seemed to enjoy the quick pace, for it nickered and tossed its head all the while it was trotting.

Nevertheless, it was close to sunset when Pelle reached the clearing. Tjark helped him rub down the horse with straw and Pelle told his friend of the noble visitors to come. Tjark reacted with apprehension at first, aware that peasant sons and noblemen should keep well apart. Pelle assuaged his friend's worries. The Baron was not known for haranguing his peasants and in this case he even harboured an interest in Pelle's craft.

Marja turned pale at the prospect of cooking for the Baron but Pelle assured her the her cooking was well up to the standards. He had already decided to hunt for a deer to put venison on the table for his noble visitors. Marja would make pastries from the venison and from two of the chicken that Pelle had started to breed in a coop behind the cabin. Tjark and Matthias volunteered to sweep the cabin and to build benches outside, under the canopy they had erected a few weeks ago.

Early on the next morning Pelle took his bow and quiver and made for his favourite hunting place, the clearing deeper in the forest. Matthias was with him. They had to make a wide circle to reach a position downwind from the clearing, but when they reached the open space they could see a small group of hinds with a few semi-grown calves. There was no stag around as far as Pelle could see.

Under his lead they inched closer to the hinds. One of them lamed, favouring a maimed foreleg. She would not make it through the winter as Pelle knew. She looked healthy otherwise and Pelle marked her for his prey. She seemed more skittish, too, with her ears flicking nervously but Pelle was downwind from her and well-covered in the underbrush. Very cautiously he knelt and extracted three arrows from his quiver. Two, he laid in readiness on the ground before him, one he put on the bowstring. The butt end of the arrow near his ear, he sighted carefully before he let fly. The crippled hind was hit behind her left shoulder and the arrow penetrated deeply. The mortally wounded animal staggered for only a few steps before she broke to her knees and sank to the side.

While the rest of the deer took off in flight, Pelle and Matthias left their cover and approached the downed hind. Pelle held an arrow in readiness but when they came nearer he stuffed it back into the quiver. He quickly sliced the throat of of the hind to let it bleed out before he opened the abdominal cavity to remove the guts and the stomachs. He had no use for either. He left behind the head, too, for he did not plan to cure the coat, but rather wanted to tan the hide for deer leather.

Thus lightened considerably, Pelle and Matthias loaded the prey on a makeshift travois made from two sturdy saplings and started to drag their load back to the cabin. It was well into the forenoon when they arrived. Tjark and Marja joined their efforts and by noon they had skinned the hind and broken it up. Marja took it upon herself to roast choice parts like the sirloin and loins over the glow of charcoals while Pelle placed less choice parts into his smouldering kiln where they would be cooked to tenderness. The hind legs were hung into the flue for smoking.

That done, Pelle showed Matthias how to scrape fat and meat from the inside of the deer skin before it was stretched over a wood frame for drying. He would sell the skin to a tanner in Birkenhain on his next visit.

Then it was time to recover the meat from the kiln. It was tender now and well cooked. Marja cut strips of cooked meat and minced it for use in the pastries she planned. She had set aside the liver for the same purpose.

For supper the four feasted on the leftover cooked venison from the kiln, with cracked grain and roots as filler. It was a good meal and they went to bed sated and tired.

Marja was up before dawn, polishing the copper pots in the shine of the oil lamp. To her the day would not only bring the visit of the Baron and Baroness but also that of her mistress, Pelle's wife, and the latter was unnerving her the most.

After a short breakfast they all dressed in their best. Pelle was eschewing the tunic and pants of the Baron's household wearing a buck leather vest and leather pants over a green shirt, the traditional garb of the colliers. Tjark still only had his peasant Sunday best while Matthias proudly wore the clothes Pelle had gifted him from his clothes chest. They were worn but clean and well kept, since Pelle had grown out of them a decade ago. Marja wore a dress and apron that Ingeburg had found in Birkenhain and sent home with Pelle. She was inordinately proud of it. Her hair was washed and freshly braided, and not for the first time Pelle acknowledged that the young fugitive girl was a comely lass.

It was almost noon time when a train of twelve riders and a sturdy carriage entered the clearing. Pelle stepped out from the cabin followed by Tjark and the siblings, and they awaited their visitors with their heads bared.

Baron Sigfrid and his wife, the Noble Lieselotte, rode in front and Pelle rushed to assist the young baroness when she dismounted. A squire came running to take care of the horses while Pelle welcomed the baron to his cabin.

Baron Sigfrid looked about curiously. He quickly took in everything of note, the well-kept cabin, the kitchen garden, but also the size and setting of the clearing.

"You have a good place here, Collier," he acknowledged. "That creek carries plenty of water, too. I begin to understand Ingeburg when she speaks of the beauty of your clearing. Who is with you?"

"My Lord, I thank you. This is my friend Tjark, Hunold's son, and my wife's stepbrother. He has helped me out for years and now he wishes to be a collier himself. I deem him ready. Beside him is Matthias, my apprentice, and the maid is Marja, Matthias' sister. She keeps my house and cooks for us."

The Baron nodded. "If you vouch for Tjark, Hunold's son, I accept him as collier in my lands. Neidhard will speak to him about the lease and the hunting."

Pelle smiled inwardly. By accepting Tjark so early the shrewd Baron would get another hundred-twenty bushel free before he had to pay. It was also good for Tjark who stepped forward and bowed.

"I thank my lord," he said as he was expected to do.

"Show us your kiln then, Pelle," the Baron spoke.

Behind him Pelle could see Ingeburg but she kept back for the time being, helping the old Baroness to move around and leading her towards the awning. Pelle led the way across the clearing where the latest kiln was still heating. Pelle explained the construction, the flues and stop cocks, the sod and clay cover. The Baron nodded repeatedly and the young Baroness listened with amused interest. Next, Pelle led the Baron to the coal pile they were currently harvesting and the Baron whistled softly.

"'Tis a fortune lying about in this clearing. Are you not afraid of thieves?"

"They would be easy to spot, Lord, for my fortune makes for black skin and clothes," Pelle replied with a grin.

The Baron exploded in laughter whacking Pelle's shoulder. "Why, Collier, you have your wits in the right place." He lowered his voice. "I bet you if those villagers knew just how much this black gold is worth there'd be more of your trade."

Pelle allowed himself a smile. "We should see a lot of bonfires then, my Lord, for it is a tricky craft to char the wood just right for forging steel without setting it on fire."

"Again you speak the truth, Collier, and woe to me were I to ruin your livelihood. Nay, keep making your coal and live well off your trade. Say, Collier, what about that masonry building yonder?"

"I am having a permanent kiln built from masonry and clay, Lord. I hope to increase my yields and save on time and effort."

The Baron was clearly impressed. "I like that. You have a good head on your shoulders. Say, Collier, what game is found in this forest?"

"Stag and hind roam the forest in good numbers, but also buck and doe. Boars come rarely, but I know where to find them. Of course I cannot hunt them, but I like to know their whereabouts."

"Good numbers of deer you say? And the forest stretches way into Erlingen lands." The Baron let his eyes sweep over the clearing. He nodded again. "I shall have a hunting cabin built here. It is close to the game and it will be a good retreat in the summer when the town is simmering in the heat and stench. Think the villagers will like paid work over the winter?"

"I should think they will, Lord," Pelle replied. "There are two carpenters in Lemdalen who do good work."

The Baron turned to his young wife. "Will this place be to your liking, my dear?"

For the first time Pelle saw the young Baroness smile and he looked away quickly. She was beautiful but it was not his place to admire her.

"I like it fine here, my husband. Who will care for the cabin in our absence, though?"

"Why, my dear, who better than Ingeburg's husband? What say you, Collier? I shall make you my Keeper of Lemdalen Forest. 'Twill be the first step of grooming you for my service, and it will take little of your time. Neidhard will see that you learn the duties. You can keep an eye on the cabin and have your wench keep it clean. 'Twill be to your advantage."

"I thank my Lord for your trust," was all Pelle could say. At first, he was dismayed over the additional work. But then he considered. Keeper of the Forest was an important post and he could keep others from using it for charring. He would report to Neidhardt, Overseer of the Lands, who sat at the Baron's table close to the dais. Yes, this would be worth the little upkeep of a cabin.

"I see that you understand," the Baron grinned. "Now let us return. May we humbly ask for sustenance, oh Keeper of the Forest?"

Pelle nodded. "Marja has been busy since yesterday. She should be right devastated were you to scorn her cooking."

"That we cannot have. Let us go to table then!"

When they returned to the cabin Ingeburg looked at Pelle with a smile. She was speaking with her stepbrother and with Marja but she strode over to take Pelle's arm.

"It is so wonderful to be back here again. I miss the cabin."

"The cabin misses you too, but not as much as I do," Pelle smiled at her.

She hugged him close and he kissed the top of her head. With a sigh Pelle disengaged himself.

"I cannot leave my Lord wanting for food and drink," he whispered audibly.

Marja and Matthias had loaded the table with the food they had prepared and Pelle bade his visitors sit on the few chairs he owned while he and Ingeburg sat on one of the new benches, together with the rest of his household and with the soldiers of the Baron's train. Gebhardt, ever a man to spot pretty girls, followed Marja with admiring looks. When she came to within his reach he stood and gave her a short bow.

"Pray, fair lass, my comrades and I wagered whether your name may be as pretty as your face. Will you settle our dispute?"

Marja tensed and shrank back almost in fear. Poor Gebhardt did not know what he had done but he had the common sense to step back and sit.

"Please, I did not mean to frighten you, fair lass. Forget I said anything and be at ease. No harm will befall you at my hands – I swear to that by my dear mother's memory."

"Gebhardt, she is shy and timid around soldiers. A bunch of city soldiers in Bergheim hurt her badly and she fears your ilk accordingly," Pelle explained in a low voice while Marja fled into the cabin.

Gebhardt's eyes turned hard. "City soldiers, eh? Bloody vermin! To hurt a sweet and innocent girl! I have a mind to take leave from my Lord and ride over to Bergheim to visit the hurt back on them!"

"That will not lessen Marja's hurt," Ingeburg said softly. "Speak softly and kindly to her, make her know that not all soldiers are alike."

"You think that may work?" Gebhardt asked doubtfully but then he nodded. "She looks like a sweet girl and she's quite the cook and housekeeper. Why not try? Pelle, friend, will you introduce me to the lass so she'll not fear me?"

"I can try, Gebhardt. Just mind that she's not one of the wenches from the Red Cockerel."

"I know that. I had a decent woman for a mother. Only those townswomen never look twice at a lowly corp'ral, and the wenches at the Cockerel are the only ones to speak to me."

Meanwhile young Matthias had helped the visitors to the pastries and the roast venison and Baron Sigfrid raised bis cup.

"Collier, you live a good life out here it seems. I can see that you work hard for it but it is a worthy effort. Here is to Pelle and Ingeburg!"

"I thank thee, my Lord," Pelle answered politely. "We feel honoured by your visit."

Marja reappeared with another pastry, this one made with the hind's liver, and the Baron helped himself to a large piece. The Baroness Lieselotte also partook of it as did the old baroness.

"You make delicious pastries, my girl," the old woman smiled. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"From my mother, noble Lady," Marja answered. "My parents owned a tavern before the Turks came, and she taught me the cooking."

"She did well, my girl. You will have a very happy husband one day."

Marja blushed pink. "Would that be true one day, and I shall thank fate."

She picked up the plate and tried to take another empty one with the other hand, but it was heavy and she could not lift it. Gebhardt stood.

"Will you allow me to help you with this?"

Marja was still a little fearful but she nodded silently and Gebhardt took two empty plates following Marja to the cabin.

"Marja," he spoke up and she turned. "Marja, I am sorry that you are fearful of me. It is true that I am a soldier, and some soldiers do bad things. I was raised by a good woman though, and I never hurt girls nor women. Pelle is my friend and he will vouch for me. Will you allow me to visit some Sunday? I would like to know you better. I would also have you know me better so that you may be less fearful of me. May I?"

She looked at him, her eyes brimming. "Four soldiers of the City of Bergheim caught me after dark. They took me by force and ruined me for any honest man. Why would you want to know me?"

Seeing the hurt and desperation in her eyes, Gebhardt felt cold fury at those city soldiers wash over him. "Do you know their names, Marja?"

She nodded bitterly. "Ansgar, Enewalt, Malte, and Lutgar. Lutgar is a corporal like you."

"Will you see me if I bring you their heads?" Gebhardt asked bluntly.

Her eyes flew open when she understood. She shook her head.

"No, please, valiant corporal! I could not stand it if you were hurt on my behalf. I am ruined and not worth the effort and the risk."

Suddenly, Gebhardt found himself holding the girl by both her upper arms.

"You are worth everything I have, including my life. Listen, lass. No woman or girl in Birkenhain will see a soldier like me. Those merchants and craftsmen always marry their daughters off to young merchants or craftsmen. Only wenches will see me, yet I wish for a good girl to tend my home and my hearth. I liked you the first time I saw you and what I have learned of you makes me want to hold you tight and to give you the solace you so badly need. You touch my heart, sweet lass. Will you let me visit Sundays?"

Marja nodded. "I hear your words and I like them. I like your sight, too; you have the eyes of a good man. I will ask Pelle's permission to see you on Sundays."

"You do that, my sweet girl. I shall come next Sunday and I will ask Pelle right now. Come, my lass."

He took her trembling hand and led her out of the cabin and to the table where Pelle and Ingeburg sat.

"Friend Pelle, will you give me licence to call on Marja on Sundays? I wish to know her better and my intentions are honest and pure."

"Friend Gebhardt, you are always welcome at my cabin. If Marja welcomes you, I'll gladly allow your visits."

Gebhardt turned to Marja. "I shall be here come the next Sunday, right after noon."

After the meal the Baron and his entourage mounted their horses again. Only Ingeburg remained at Pelle's cabin when they rode across the clearing and towards Lemdalen. Ingeburg put both hands on her hips and looked around.

"Let us clear the tables and clean up."



-------

Chapter 14: How the Maid Luise Is Locked in the Stocks


An hour later, the plates and bowls had been washed and the leftovers saved. To Marja's dismay Ingeburg had rolled up the sleeves of her dress and helped.

"I hate doing embroidery," she confessed with a shrug, "but it's all I am allowed to do. It feels good to do something worthwhile."

Tjark guffawed. "Ingeburg, you have changed for sure."

"Hey, I always liked to help Aunt Anna if only Mother allowed it."

"You're right of course. It's just difficult to see things from your side. I sometimes hated you, Ingeburg. It shames me, now that I see how you really are, but when Greta always made me clean up after you I hated you."

Ingeburg stepped up to her half-brother and put her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry for that and for all the stupid things I did to you and to others. My life has turned out so wonderful and I never really earned it. I meant to ask you this, Tjark: you used to like Luise when she came to play at our house, and now you left Father's house to avoid her. What did she do?"

Tjark turned beet-red. "I'd rather not speak of her, please," he said hoarsely before he fled the cabin.

For a moment, Ingeburg stood poised to run after him, but she realised it would do no good. She saw Pelle look at her and sighed.

"I hope I said nothing wrong. I just don't understand it. He used to bring Luise home after we played and now that Hanke is going to ... Oh, no! Poor Tjark!"

"What of him? Why?" Pelle asked, truly bewildered.

"Cannot you see, Pelle? He left Father's house not because he cannot stand Luise but because he cannot stand seeing her married to Hanke! He must feel deeply for her, that is why he came to live here with you."

"Now I understand," Pelle agreed. "Hunold must know of it. Why else would he agree to help Tjark settle out here? Luise did not like him back?"

"Oh, I always thought she did, but Tjark was not a choice when Luise's father was looking for a son-in-law. Hanke is. Just like Father would not have thought of you as a husband for me."

"It must be hard for him," Pelle mused. "But then, there is nothing we can do."

"You're right," Ingeburg sighed returning to her self-imposed chores.

The afternoon passed quickly for Ingeburg with all the things she and Pelle had to tell each other. Soon it was time for the supper. Tjark only came in shortly before they started and he tried to avoid Ingeburg. She would not allow it though. Standing close to him she hugged him.

"I'm so sorry for you," she whispered. "You'll find somebody worthy of you, never worry."

"That's not it!" he blurted in an agitated whisper.

"I know, but what can you do? What can anybody do? I know Luise's father; better than you I guess. He'd set his sight on Hanke before Luise was even grown."

"That blasted fool who is too stupid to keep his horses out of the ragwort!" Tjark hissed angrily.

Supper was not happy with the storm cloud on Tjark's forehead. Ingeburg felt self-conscious and leery of displaying her affection for Pelle too openly. When they joined in their bed, Pelle pressed her against himself and whispered in her ear.

"Let us keep still, Ingeburg, lest we add to Tjark's misery."

She snuggled close. "It's enough to feel you with me, my love," she whispered back. "I have many happy memories of this cabin to sustain me."

They simply slept, snuggling closely and enjoying the bodily contact. There was no need to rise early either, for no morning mass was to attend. They rose after sunrise and enjoyed Marja's breakfast before Pelle and Ingeburg mounted the wagon to ride into Lemdalen where Ingeburg would be reunited with the Baron's train.

On the trail to Lemdalen they sat close, happy for the time alone. Fall was there and the leaf trees were bare, but a pale sun was out and eating up the thin fog. They saw Lemdalen from afar and the small village was buzzing. Upon passing Rudlo's bloomery they saw that worthy man and greeted him friendly. He was clearly dismayed.

"What is up, my friend?" Pelle asked.

Rudlo cast an uncomfortable look at Ingeburg. "The Baron will open trial over Luise, Bertolf's daughter."

"Luise? Whatever did she do?"

Rudlo sighed. "It would seem that she spoke ill of you, Mistress Ingeburg."

"Rudlo, I beg you, leave off that 'Mistress' nonsense. What did she say?"

"I wasn't there. Margrite, Bartel, and Nithart overheard her. She claimed you ... She said you must bed the Baron to have won his favour."

The huge man hunched his shoulder waiting for the outburst that he expected. Instead, Ingeburg laughed outright.

"This is so ... so outlandish! I cannot even believe she said it, least of all that anyone would take it for the truth."

"Yet, the Baron heard of it and now he is angry. He'll have her in the stocks and whipped for it they say."

Ingeburg gasped. "Oh mercy! Not over a few stupid words!"

"Oh yes, he is. An hour hence she'll be shamed and beaten."

"Oh my! How does Hanke feel?"

Rudlo shook his head. "He renounced her in a heartbeat. Said he could not marry a girl who slanders his sister."

"Now I'm his sister?" Ingeburg marvelled. "Pelle, I need speak to the Baron and ask for mercy. Will you drive me to the reeve's manor, please?"

"Of course I'll do it. It strikes me odd, though, to hear all this. You made up the Sunday after our wedding and she seemed sincere."

At the reeve's manor Ingeburg climbed down from the wagon with Pelle's help and entered the stone building. She found the Baron and his family in the hall and she rushed forward and knelt.

"There you are, Ingeburg. Know you that there is unpleasantness ahead. One of your former friends, Luise, Bertolf's daughter, spoke of you in a foul way, insulting not only you but also besmirching my own noble name."

"My Lord, I heard the rumour when we entered Lemdalen, but I cannot believe she did or said that. She's been my friend since forever and she was ever friendly and mild-spoken. This isn't like her."

"Yet, three youngsters, a friend of her among them, swore to it."

Ingeburg was dazed. "Lord, may I have your leave to speak to her, please?"

"It cannot change anything but do it, Ingeburg. She's in the cellar."

Gebhardt led Ingeburg down a narrow spiral staircase. In a barely lit, damp room she found her erstwhile friend standing against a wall, her foot and hand chained. Ingeburg turned to Gebhardt.

"The warders, did they touch her?" she whispered.

Gebhardt shook his head. "The Baron does not allow such things."

Ingeburg stepped close to Luise. "Luise. I came as soon as I heard. Whatever happened?"

Luise looked at her in stark terror. "Ingeburg, you must believe me! I never said an ugly word about you. Margrite did, all the time. Yesterday we were sitting together when she started it again. I got up then, told her she should stop it. She called me a bad name and I left. Then, an hour later, the soldiers came to our house and brought me here. They'll cane me and put me on the pillory! Over night! They'll do all those ugly things to me come the night, like they did the last time with Agneta."

Ingeburg swallowed. Agneta had called another woman a trollop and the reeve had put her into the stocks over night. After the night fell and the soldiers went to bed, a whole group of young men had their way with her, and she left Lemdalen the next day never to return. The same would happen to Luise no doubt. Unless...

"Luise, look at me. Do you swear by our friendship that you never spoke ill of me or of our Lord?"

"I swear! Ingeburg, cannot you speak to the Lord or to the Lady?"

"Was anybody else present when Margrite and the boys ran their mouth on me?"

Sadly, Luise shook her head. "No, they swear that I slandered you, and there is nobody to help me. My father has washed his hands of me, and Hanke, well of course he stepped back from his promise. I have nobody but you, Ingeburg. I'll be your servant, I'll cut wood for Pelle's kilns, anything! Just don't let them have their way with me on the pillory."

"I'll try, Luise. That's all I can promise."

"God bless you, Inge! I swear..."

"Shh, I believe you. There is no way to disprove those slanderers but I shall ask for mercy. I'll do my best!"

With that Ingeburg left the cell and climbed to the ground floor. In the hall she approached the Baron and knelt before him.

"My Lord, I have spoken to Luise. She maintains she spoke in jest and thought it would be taken in jest. I ask for mercy for Luise and for lenience. Please, don't have her caned on my behalf and please don't leave her in the stocks over night. She is a decent girl and the young men would have their way with her and ruin her."

"You ask for mercy for her, Ingeburg?" the Baron asked incredulously. He could remember Greta as she had a maidservant caned for not calling her 'Mistress'.

"I do, Lord, with all my heart. If I did right by my Lady these months I ask for nothing but this favour in return."

"You did right, Ingeburg. The girl sullied my name though. I can spare her the caning or the pillory, but not both."

Ingeburg thought quickly. Caning would be brutal for the small girl; it would scar her for life and possibly do worse damage. Now if only something could be done to guard Luise during the night...

"I ask you to spare her the caning, my Lord, and I shall pray to God to reward you for your kindness," she answered.

Baron Sigfrid nodded and rose from the table after kissing his wife's hand. Ingeburg quickly sat at Lieselotte's side and whispered urgently into her ear.

"Cannot we somehow protect her against the rape she will surely suffer during the night?"

Lieselotte looked at her companion and was baffled. Never before had she seen the blonde girl in such a state of worry.

"Surely the reeve will be vigilant?" she temporised.

"He'll be the one to break her maidenhood!" Ingeburg hissed back with anger in her voice. "He's known for sullying girls under his power."

Lieselotte raised an eyebrow hearing this. Then she looked at her companion. "I shall speak to the Lady Ermegart."

Indeed, Lieselotte went to speak to her husband's mother knowing full well that she was the only person able to sway her son's will. A while later, the old baroness sent for her son, and when he emerged from his mother's quarters, he sent for Pelle of all people.

Ingeburg bowed deeply and retreated. Outside, she found Pelle. "The Lord wants you, Pelle, quick!"

Pelle rushed in and in his haste he barely remembered to kneel. The Baron bent forward and whispered into the collier's ear. The onlookers could hear nothing; they only saw how Pelle nodded.

"Your will be done, my Lord, as best I can," Pelle replied.

The Baron then looked about. "Markward, my Reeve, I ask you to accompany me to Birkenhain. We had not the pleasure of your presence at my table for months."

The reeve was conflicted. "Lord, I need to supervise..."

"Think not of it, Markward. Join us! My Keeper of Lemdalen Forest will fill in for you for a few days."

"Your Keeper, Lord?"

"Yes, I made the Collier my Keeper of Lemdalen Forest. He's a loyal man, honest and able, and he married my sister. He can make sure that the punishment is served."

"But, my Lord..."

The Baron's eyes narrowed a little as he realised the intentions of the man. The Baron had seen that the girl Luise was a pretty lass and it became clear that the reeve wanted his part of her during the night. It was likely him who would be the first to take her while she was locked into the stock.

"No buts, Reeve. You come with me and the collier will see to the punishment. Make sure your buettel know to obey him."

The reeve had two watchmen, buettel, to enforce his rulings and they sat at the table smirking at their superior, obviously delighted over the prospect of moving into his place. The baron looked at them sternly.

"I had better not hear that you disobeyed Pelle!"

That got their attention, for it was known how the Baron dealt with breaches of discipline. The last soldier who had acted against an express order was still walking on crutches.

"No, your grace! Certainly not!" the elder of them blurted.

The baron nodded. "Bring the girl forth and up to the pillory," he ordered.

They all left the manor with Ingeburg clinging to Pelle.

"What did the baron want?" she whispered.

"He told me to make sure she left the pillory as a virgin," Pelle whispered back.

"Whatever possessed Margrite to do this to Luise?" Ingeburg whispered next.

"Who will be left for Hanke to marry now?" Pelle shot back, giving his wife a smirk.

Ingeburg's eyes first widened and then narrowed into angry slits.

"The evil trollop! And those two, Bartel and Nithart, they helped her! To think I felt guilt over their quarrel! Some day ... No use for that! Pelle, send for Tjark. He needs to be here to help you protect her."

"Good thought," Pelle agreed. "I'll have him bring my bow and arrows, too, and my long knife. Things may get rough."

Ingeburg wanted to reply, but the reeve banged his staff as poor Luise was dragged from the manor and to the low platform that held the stocks. She was forced to kneel, her neck and wrists in the openings of the stock, and locked in. Immediately the jeering of the onlookers set in and a clot of clay flew, only missing Luise's face by a hand breadth. The Reeve banged his staff again to demand quiet.

"Hear ye, hear ye, peasants and freeholders of Lemdalen, our Lord Sigfrid speaks justice!"

The Baron looked at the pinnacled girl for a moment but then his mind was made up.

"Luise, daughter of Bertolf, you were overheard slandering Ingeburg, daughter of Hunold. You were heard speaking foully of me, too. Do you confess or deny that?"

It was difficult for Luise to speak, but she tried.

"I never spoke ill of my friend Ingeburg but once, right after her wedding. I asked her forgiveness the very next Sunday. I would never dare speak foully of you, Lord. Yet, there is triple testimony that I did. How can I maintain my innocence against that?"

"Did you, or did you not, lass?"

"I did not! It was not I who spoke ill of Ingeburg! All three of my accusers did, for they envy me because I was betrothed to Hanke, Hunold's son."

"You have witness for that, lass?"

"No, Lord. I can only ask for mercy."

"Know then that Ingeburg, Hunold's daughter, joined your plea for mercy and lenience. She did good and loyal service for my wife and I granted her wish. You will be spared the caning, Luise, for Ingeburg forgave your slander. You'll spend a day and a night in the stocks however, for sullying the name of the House of Birkenhain."

"Not the night, Lord, I beg of you! Have me locked in without food and water and have me spend two days instead, three if you wish, but not the night!"

"A day and a night, as is our law for slander," the Baron answered firmly. He turned to Pelle. "See to it that the punishment is completed, Keeper!"

"I shall do your will, my Lord," Pelle answered firmly.

The Baron had his train prepare for departure while a first rain of rotten fruit was aimed at Luise. Luckily, only one apple hit her directly. It splattered her, but did not hurt or bruise her face. Ingeburg quickly bade her farewell to Pelle.

"Please, my husband, look after her. Let nobody take her honour, for Tjark's sake."

They kissed briefly causing the mud slingers to pause and watch. After Ingeburg climbed the wagon to sit with the old Baroness, Pelle sought Hunold.

"Hunold, get Tjark here quickly. Tell him to bring our bows and quivers, and food and drink for a night."

"What is this, Pelle? The wench slandered your wife!"

"Ingeburg asks for it. She doesn't believe the accusers. Come on, Hunold! Which girl is now left for Hanke to woo?"

Hunold's eyes opened wide. "You think that?" Then his eyes turned hard. "That'll be a a snowy day in mid-summer when I will agree to such a union. I'll go myself."

He rushed away while Pelle looked at the two buettel.

"Ask Father Ortwinus to come hither."

Shrugging, the younger one left for the church. It took not long for the priest to appear.

"You asked for me, Pelle?"

"Yes, Reverend Father. I ask for your help."

Pelle stepped close then and told the priest of the events and of his plans. The good priest shook his head in dismay but then he nodded to Pelle's suggestion. He even grinned when he ascended the platform. A wooden stool was given to him and he settled beside Luise's face.

"My child," he spoke, "now is a good time to confess your sins and to repent. We can pray together so you may find the strength to resist the temptations henceforth. I shall be with you to help you."

"Father, hey, get out of the way!" a shout sounded. It was Bartel, a clod of clay with small pebbles in his hand, ready to hurl it.

Father Ortwinus looked sternly at the young man. "Do not dare to interrupt the Holy Sacrament of Confession!" he thundered. He turned back to Luise. "Now, my child, lighten your soul. I expect this will take some time, but so be it."

Luise already understood. "Thank you, Father Ortwinus. Father forgive me, for I have sinned!"

"Confess your wrongdoings to me, then!"

For the next hour the priest sat with Luise, hearing her confession and effectively preventing the villagers from pilfering the girl's face. Time and again, he seemed to ask questions, drawing out the process. Then, finally, Luise seemed to have finished.

"Ego te absolvo, my child," Father Ortwinus intoned. "I must impose a penance on you. Five dozen Hail Mary, and as many Our Father seem adequate." He put a rosary in Luise's right hand. "Begin, my child," ordered.

Luise began to rattle down the first Hail Mary.

"No, no, no! How can you repent if you just say it without meaning, girl? Let us make this last so it will be a true penance."

"Thank you, Father," Luise whispered, again understanding. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen"

"No, I cannot count that. You do not say it with the right reverence, my girl. Try again!"

For an hour or more, Father Ortwinus took Luise through her paces before she finished sixty Hail Mary prayers to his satisfaction. Most onlookers had left by then; only Margrite, her two conspirators and three other young men remained, all looking decidedly unhappy.

Pelle, knowing that the girl would be safe for as long as Father Ortwinus prayed with her, found the smiths, Rudlo and Tymo, and asked them for their help. They both agreed and Pelle promised them a free load of coal each for their troubles. Both smiths were easily the strongest men in the village and from his younger years Rudlo held a reputation as a fearsome fighter. Pelle also talked to the tavern landlord who promised to deliver food and drink to the men.

When Luise finally came to finish her sixty Our Fathers, Hunold's wagon was in approach. Tjark was off in a rush and ran for the pillory only to be intercepted by Pelle.

"Wait, Friend, don't rush."

"Pelle, I need to get her out of the stocks!"

"No, you can't! The Baron ordered it! Ingeburg got him to spare her the caning and he ordered me to oversee the punishment. I am to make sure nobody takes undue advantage of her. Have patience, my friend! Help me to protect her through this night and tomorrow you can free her from the stocks and take her home to the cabin."

Tjark's eyes widened and Pelle nodded with a grim smile.

"Her father renounced her. You can have her for the asking. Just protect her this night and she'll say yes."

Tjark gripped Pelle's arm. "Pelle, you are a true friend. But what if they pelt her with stones?"

"And hit the priest? I spoke Father Ortwinus and told him that for a few hours of praying with Luise we shall gift him a keg of wine for the sacrament."

"A keg of wine?" Tjark gasped, for wine came from the Moselle valley and was expensive.

"I'll front it for you, never worry. Think how much you will save on food and drink for a wedding."

Tjark grinned at that, hard as that came to him. "How long will he pray with her?"

"Until sunset. We'll light a fire then and torches. Rudlo and Tymo will come and help us guard the pillory. I don't trust those buettel fully. Did you bring our bows and quivers?"

Tjark nodded grimly. Just then somebody spoke up behind them.

"Hey, Collier! Make the priest go away, will you! He's spoiling all the fun."

Pelle turned to see Bartel. The young man bore a smirk on his face which Pelle wanted to wipe away with his fist. Instead he gave the young man a cold smile.

"Has your father not taught you to keep your tongue still when grown men are talking? Be gone, boy, and tell your friends there'll be no fun, least of all the sort of fun you have in your dirty minds."

"Are you out of your mind, you low-life, dirty f-f-forest dweller?" the young lad screamed back angrily. "It's our right to have fun with those on the pillory."

"Your right? Since when are you a married man and provider? Did you learn a trade or a craft yet? Go home, boy! Your word counts naught among grown men."

Margrite and Nithart came, to learn the reason for Bartel's screaming.

"He's protecting her!" Bartel screamed at them.

"I am following the Baron's orders who made me oversee the punishment and prevent any lewdness. She is to be shamed but not touched."

Pelle spoke calmly but being a tall and strong man his voice carried. The villagers came from their houses again and assembled. To his relief Pelle saw Rudlo and Tymo in approach, with Hunold and three of his knechte (farmhands). It was Margrite's father Helge who spoke up.

"What is this, Collier? The girl was sentenced to the pillory. Why are you protecting her?"

"She is on the pillory, and you better not speak in matters that do not concern you. I am acting on the baron's orders."

"That's what you say, Collier!"

Pelle turned to the buettel.

"Hey, you two! Did our Lord Sigfrid put me in charge of the village until the reeve returns?"

"Aye, he did," the elder hastened to answer. "He's the Keeper of the Forest, and we are to obey him."

"Damn it to bloody hell!" Helge shouted in disgust.

"Who dared to curse while we are in prayer?" Father Ortwinus thundered from the platform. He was a sturdy man, not overly tall, but strongly built. "Who, I ask?"

Gleefully, Tjark answered. "Helge did, Father Ortwinus."

"I better see you all in church tonight for evening mass. All except for the buettel and the Lord's Keeper. You, Helge, will pray five dozen Our Father and five dozen Hail Mary, and you better speak up well. Come up here!"



-------

Chapter 15: How Tjark Wins a Wife


Another two hours passed during which a steaming Helge spoke the prayers until Father Ortwinus was satisfied. Again, the villagers had returned to their dwellings. Finally even the young men and Margrite resigned themselves to the facts.

Meanwhile, Luise was getting increasingly cold. Her knees were numb by now after spending hours in the stocks, and her back hurt terribly. The nagging fear was still there, the fear that once darkness fell, somebody would sneak up behind her without her even able to see them. They would then lift the thin shirt that was all she had been allowed to wear. Rough knees would force her legs apart and then they would defile her and her life would be ruined. She would have to leave without any hope of ever finding a decent husband.

She had never cared for Hanke and she had not looked forward to marrying him. She had always fancied Tjark instead, but he was the second son only and her father would not allow her to speak of him.

Now she saw him standing with the collier. He was living in the forest now, charring wood with Pelle, and people had laughed about him. He kept looking at her and Luise felt fear. Would he be the first? Would he take by force what could not be his by rights? Please, not Tjark, she prayed silently. Please, not that! She had always liked him, even when she was a small girl, and he had always been friendly to her. If he defiled her, she could not stand it.

When Helge was finished with his penance, the priest dismissed him curtly, ordering him to attend mass that evening. It was getting dark now and cold. Luise was shivering uncontrollably. The hurt in her back was unbearable for her shivers made her muscles cramp. A pitiful moan escaped her mouth. In the growing darkness she saw how Father Ortwinus stood up.

"I have to hold evening mass, my girl. I shall be back later."

"Thank you, Father! Thank you from my heart for giving me your protection," Luise managed to say with chattering teeth.

The priest climbed down and fear gripped Luise, for Pelle and Tjark climbed the platform. Pelle sat down on the stool but Tjark walked around her.

"Please not," Luise whimpered. "Please, not that. Have mercy! I swear I did not speak ill of Ingeburg!"

Pelle seemed taken aback. "Luise, there is nothing to fear. Tjark and I will protect you."

Somebody touched her back! Luise wriggled madly. "Ssh, Luise, hold still!" she heard from behind the stocks. "I have a blanket for you, but you must hold still."

Her body numb, she could not really feel what was going on. Only the wind did not bite her skin as fiercely anymore.

"Pelle," she heard Tjark's voice, "she is freezing to death. She does not even feel my hand on her leg."

"Get more blankets. Get a bedcover from your father's house! Where's the landlord with the food?"

"Coming, Pelle!" Luise heard.

A moment later Pelle held a cup with hot soup to Luise's mouth. Rich chicken broth almost burnt her mouth and ran hotly down her gullet warming her very core. She had difficulties drinking but she managed although the rough wood tore at the skin of her neck.

"Thank you, Pelle," she whispered.

Only a little while later Tjark returned with his father. Hanke was not with them. They climbed the platform. Dimly, Luise felt something laid on her back and more blankets were piled on her and wrapped tightly around her body and legs. A heavenly warmth spread from her back.

"We put a bag of heated cherry pits on your back," Tjark explained.

Slowly her back spasms receded somewhat but this was countered by an excruciating pain when the blood flow to her legs and arms resumed. She squirmed and moaned for what had to be the worst moments of her life. At some point the pain subsided slowly and she could notice her surroundings again. Pelle was still sitting close, a burning torch to his left, with bow and arrow at his feet.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, a little. You are saving my life, Pelle. Why?"

"I, because Ingeburg asked me to and because we said we were friends. Tjark, because he has coveted you for years and cannot stand seeing you harmed."

"He does? Well, he did. Now, I'm a shamed woman."

"Speaking of which, Luise. What will you do come the morning when we'll set you free?"

Luise had not even thought of that. "What can I do? My father has renounced me."

"I'll tell you. You can live with us until you know what to do."

"What ... what will I have to do?"

"Nothing you don't want. Marja's doing the cabin and the cooking. You can help with the charring or help with washing and mending. We'll see."

"You're not expecting me to ... I mean, I know Ingeburg is in Birkenhain all the time..."

"Luise," Pelle said with a chuckle, "would I ever be so stupid as to make Ingeburg unhappy? More so, would I make my friend Tjark miserable? Do you know why he left his father's house?"

Luise shook her head.

"He could not stand the thought of seeing you married to Hanke."

In spite of her miserable condition Luise felt her pulses quicken. "Why? What... ?"

"He loves you dearly. Tell me, Luise, and mind it is not a condition for our help: do you think you can return Tjark's feelings?"

"I always liked him but isn't he your knecht?"

"Tjark is a collier like me. The Baron appointed him and allowed him the use of the forest. He'll even have his own cabin soon."

"But will he still want me after tonight?"

"Look, there he comes with more heated cherry pits. Is there any question about how he feels about you?"

Luise took a deep breath and she felt tears burn in her eyes.

"Pelle, will you give us some time alone?"

Pelle laughed and stood. He gave Tjark a hand to help him up and climbed down himself.

"I built and covered the kiln, my friend. Now you can fire it."

With that Pelle was down and she saw him stand with a group of men, Hunold and the smiths. Meanwhile Tjark was replacing the hot cherry pits, carefully too, lest too much cold air came into the blankets.

"Thank you, Tjark. I always liked you and now you save my life."

"I — I cannot see you suffer," he said in a low voice.

"Tjark?"

"Yes?"

"I care for you. I always did. My father forbade me to think of you but you were in my heart."

"Oh."

"My father renounced me. I am nobody's daughter."

"Oh!"

In spite of her precarious situation a little giggle found it's way into her voice.

"If you can think of something you want to ask there is a good chance that I'll say 'yes'."

Suddenly, Tjark was in front of her holding her face in both hands.

"Luise, I am but a collier and it is a dirty trade. I live a free life though, and the Baron granted me the use of his forest with the right to hunt deer. I'll soon have a sturdy cabin close to Pelle's where I will live. Luise, will you help me make that cabin a home?"

"Tell me first, Tjark: do you care for me?"

"I always did. I thought I had lost my chances forever and it made me sick in my gut. Please say yes and give me the happiness I can only find with you."

"Can you still care for me after today?"

"More than ever. What say you?"

"If you will have me, Tjark, I shall gladly be your wife."

"Father, Pelle, she said yes!" Tjark hissed at the two men. They came closer. Hunold spoke first.

"Pelle tells me that you are innocent. I have known you for all your life. Look me in the eyes and tell me: did you slander Ingeburg?"

"By my life, I did not!" Luise whispered urgently. "She is my friend, she always was, and I think only fondly of her."

Hunold nodded. "I believe you and I'll allow Tjark to wed you."

"Thank you, Father," Luise said simply.

Tjark spent the night sitting by her head. He put his scarf in the head opening to protect her skin against the rough wood and he talked to her of his dreams and hopes. Luise had to fight sleep lest she suffocated, and Tjark did what he could to keep up her spirits.

Once, close to midnight, a group of young men scuffled closer, but Pelle had them chased off by the grumbling buettel who resented spending the entire night in the cold. Come the morning though, Pelle gave each of them five Groschen for their service and their mood changed immediately. A week's pay for a night out was ample compensation. It even outweighed the lost opportunity with Luise for they knew they would have only been allowed seconds or thirds with her, if at all.

When the first light of the morning dawned the elder buettel opened the lock that held the stocks closed. Pelle, Tjark, and Hunold lifted the girl up and helped her to stand. She was stiff, cold, and her body hurt in dozens of places. Still she was unhurt and a fit bride for Tjark.

A sleepy and grumbling Father Ortwinus opened the door to his church a little while later and let them in. Few people answered the bell that called for morning mass and those were in for a surprise. Luise, abandoned daughter of Bertolf, spoke the vows that bound her to Tjark, Hunold's son. She was wearing a fine dress, one from Ingeburg's young years that Hunold had found in a chest, but she was barely able to stand. Thus, when Father Ortwinus pronounced them man and wife, she simply sank into her husband's arms who carried her from the small church and lovingly laid her into the straw-filled bed of Pelle's wagon. She was covered in blankets and covers for the short travel and she arrived in time to be lowered into the warm bath that Marja had prepared in advance.

There was no wedding night for Luise and Tjark. Luise, once lain into Tjark's bed on the loft, slept all day and through the night, only once waking shortly when Tjark joined her. With dawn filtering through the precious glass window in the gable – a recent improvement which had cost Pelle almost two Ducats – Marja was up and preparing breakfast. Her bladder filled to bursting from sleeping for half a day and a full night Luise freed herself from Tjark's embrace and climbed down the ladder.

"Please, where can I... ?" she asked Marja dancing around with clenched thighs.

Marja smiled and led her to a corner of the cabin. There was a narrow passage which led into an outhouse. This was another addition to the cabin recently made. It was pitch-dark in the outhouse, but Marja pulled a cord and a wide flap opened under the roof, letting in light and presumably letting out the odours. Luise gratefully plopped down over the hole in the seat and let go. From the sounds, the dump under the outhouse had to be very deep, not that she cared much.

Re-entering the cabin Marja showed her a table with a large water jug and a gouged wood basin. There was soap, too, and of good quality. Luise washed the sleep from her eyes after cleaning her hands with soap. Then, with a shy smile, she asked Marja how she could help. Marja showed her the locker where Pelle kept bowls. Under the table was a drawer which held spoons and knives and even a few long-tined forks. Marja was warming up a rich venison stew. When the men woke, the table was set and they all gathered for their morning meal.

Luise sat with Tjark, serving him from the stew pot and cutting bread for him. He just smiled at her.

"Good morrow, my wife," he said hugging her close. "How are you feeling?"

"Rested, warm, and hungry," Luise answered with a smile of her own. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you."

"Don't be. You have been through a lot and you needed the sleep. Hey, I needed sleep after waking through a whole night."

Before Luise could answer, Pelle spoke up.

"Matthias and Marja need better clothes for the winter. I thought I'd take them to Birkenhain next Saturday to find them something fitting and warm. We should get a bale of cloth too, and sheep wool for knitting. Also, Matthias has been doing a man's work for many months and he should be treated as a man now."

Matthias blushed deeply. "What do you mean by that, Master Pelle?"

"I'll leave you in the Red Cockerel for the night," Pelle grinned, making the boy gasp. "Good work is rewarded, Matthias."

Marja was red-faced. "What of me?"

"Sorry, I cannot allow you in the Red Cockerel," Pelle grinned. "Gebhardt would gut me if I did."

To everybody's surprise Marja giggled at that. It was a shy giggle but it showed that she was healing.

"I am sure Ingeburg will find a place to sleep for you. You can also stroll the town with Gebhardt. 'Twill save him a ride." Pelle turned to Tjark. "Do you mind watching the cabin while we're gone?"

Both Tjark and Luise blushed fiercely. Mutely, Tjark shook his head stealing glances at his wife who clenched her hands a few times before she clasped Tjark's hands.

"We will be fine," she said in a low voice.



-------

Chapter 16: How the Baroness Ermegart Has a Need for Pelle


While Luise was still locked in the stocks, the baron's party was travelling back to Birkenhain at a comfortable pace. Lieselotte had chosen to sit with her husband's mother and with Ingeburg, and the three women enjoyed the chance to speak freely, for the coachman was very hard of hearing. The subject was one that worried both the young and the old baroness.

"I had my bleeding again last week," Lieselotte said sadly.

"Did my son perform his duties on you on those special days the Jewess mentioned?"

Lieselotte nodded, even showing a faint smile.

"He did, more than once. It ... it felt so good those times, and I thought I should have caught. I think I even wailed once much like Ingeburg does. I thought that should be enough."

"Did you speak to the Jewess about it?"

"I did. She ... she said something..."

"What?"

"Please don't be angry at me or her, but she fears that the Mumps may have left Sigfrid dried up. She said when grown men have the fever such things can happen."

"But Sigfrid, you said he was doing well?"

"He was and I liked it fine. Yet, Rebecca says that's what can happen."

The baroness felt desperation wash over her. Not this! Finally, Sigfrid had found a healthy wife from noble pedigree and now the accursed fever had left him dried up?

"Ingeburg, keep all this to yourself. Tell the Jewess to come to my bower tomorrow. I need to get to the bottom of this."

-------

The young Jewess was clearly fearful when she was led into Baroness Ermegart's chambers. She knelt before the older woman with her head bowed.

"Be at ease, Rebecca, Levy's daughter," the baroness told her. "I have need for your insight. You told the baroness that the Mumps can geld a man?"

The girl swallowed, obviously afraid to answer, and Ermegart realised that she had reasons for fear.

"Have no fear, Rebecca. Tell me what you know. I have a high opinion of your knowledge."

"It is not like gelding, oh Lady. Gelding would take away the urge and ability to..." her voice faltered.

"I understand you. What is it like then?"

"The fever may destroy the potency of the man's essence. My mother told me of this and I have seen it thrice in the last years." Rebecca counted on her fingers. "Hannes the Cooper sired four children before the fever hit him and none after. The tanner Anselm had five before and none after. Henning the Baker had two children by his wife and three on the side. Again, none after the Mumps. It does not strike all men either. The smith Rumpolt had it, but his wife birthed last week."

"There are other explanations for that. Rumpolt's wife is not known for her virtue," Ermegart smirked making Rebecca blush.

"That I cannot know, oh Lady."

"No, you wouldn't, innocent and honest as you are, my girl. Return to your father now with my thanks. Don't speak of this to others, you hear?"

"No, I wouldn't, Lady. Who would come to me if I told on those seeking my help?"

"Erina, see to it that Rebecca receives a Ducat for her good service."

The lady-in-waiting nodded and led Rebecca from the chambers. Ermegart sat down and thought furiously. Something had to be done. Birkenhain needed an heir urgently. One thought came, but she dismissed it after mulling over it for a while. Too many people knew of Ingeburg's blessed state already to have her child raised as heir. She would be ideal though, being a direct descendent of the Baron Friderich. Thinking of Ingeburg gave the old baroness another idea. Yes, it would take some planning and the willingness of no fewer than three persons, but it would be doable and the outcome would be perfect. In fact, it had been done in the past. She rang her bell.

"Erina, send for Ingeburg," she ordered.

Ingeburg showed a few heartbeats later and Ermegart had to smile in spite of the problems she faced. Ingeburg showed her state a little, and she was bursting with happiness, a happiness that was infective.

"Ingeburg my dear girl, come and sit with me. I have important things to talk about and you can do a great service to the lands. Know you though that this is something I will not force on you and your husband."

"Yes?" Ingeburg asked warily.

"I spoke the Jewess Rebecca and I fear she is right. It fits with something in my own family. I fear that my son will be unable to sire any offspring, yet offspring is urgently needed to maintain the family line and to secure our lands."

Ingeburg instinctively hugged her belly in fear.

"Have no fear. I shall not ask for your firstborn. No, my idea is different. Lieselotte is a healthy young woman and she should be well capable of birthing herself. What we need is another man's essence to start life in her womb. It must be somebody who knows how to keep his mouth shut, somebody healthy, and somebody bearing resemblance to my son. Do you know whereto I am heading?"

Ingeburg swallowed. "Pelle?"

"Yes, my dear. He lives out in the forest and nobody would ever suspect him. He is too much of an outsider, too much of an unknown. Yet, his stature, his hair, even his strong, manly face are eerily similar to those of my son. Could you, my dear girl, bear it if he were to lie with Lieselotte until a life is planted in her womb?"

Tears formed in Ingeburg's eyes and when she spoke her voice was brittle.

"I ... I feel like my heart is torn. I love Lieselotte dearly and I pray to God every day asking him to bless her. Yet, the thought of Pelle lying with another woman, even with Lieselotte, tears into my heart. I also know that he is the best you could find, for he knows how to treat women right and he is gentle. He is strong and healthy, too. I know all that and if you think it is the only way then I shall cope with it."

"That service, Ingeburg, will never be forgotten!" Ermegart spoke with warmth. Then for the first time she reached out and hugged Ingeburg. "I have come to see you much as my daughter. I never had a child after Sigfrid, but when you were born I often carried you and held you. If your poor mother had been more agreeable, I wouldn't have minded for her to stay here. Alas, she could not."

"But then I would have never met Pelle," Ingeburg answered with calm conviction. "My life would be much less fulfilled."

"You love him dearly, I know, and what I saw of him makes me understand you. Neidhard is getting old. Your Pelle can follow him one day as Overseer of the Lands."

Ingeburg swallowed realising the magnitude of the promise. The Overseer of the Lands came second only to the Field-Captain.

"Yes, Ingeburg, you and Pelle will sit right at the dais in the hall. That is, if he will agree. Again, if he feels he cannot do it, then we cannot force him. After all, if the man is unwilling what can be done?"

That brought a fond smile to Ingeburg's face. "He'll do it if I ask him to," she said calmly, still smiling. "He loves me so much he'll even betray me for my sake."

"Do not see it as betrayal, Ingeburg. Lieselotte will not steal him from you. Trust me, my girl: betrayal is different."

"I know. We still don't know Lieselotte's mind, though."

"Yes, you are right. Let us see her."

-------

"I could never do this to Ingeburg. She is like my sister," Lieselotte answered promptly.

"I have mulled this, Liese, and I can accept it. It is important for you, for the lands, for our family. Unless you feel that you cannot stand Pelle I will help as much as I can."

"But you love him. You told me time and again."

"I do, but I will not lose him. I love you, too, and I know your urgent wish to have children."

"Still, Sigfrid is my wedded husband. I care for him and I will not betray him."

"I too love Sigfrid dearly, for he is my son," Ermegart spoke. "He wishes for an heir. How can we tell him that he is wanting as a man? How can we ever tell him that his line will die with him? All he'll ever know will be that his beloved wife has given him an heir. He will be happy and fulfilled. Don't you want that?"

"How can we do that? It is impossible. Sigfrid spends all nights with me now."

Ermegart shrugged. "You know, he'll be leaving Birkenhain next week for the jousting tournament at the Wartburg. I shall invite Pelle to stay longer to lighten Ingeburg's mood. She will move to another chamber, one that has secret access to my own bower. Lieselotte, you will come to visit with me and then climb up to Ingeburg's chamber where Pelle can perform his task. Nobody can suspect us if my husband's wife spends time alone with me, and the secret passageway is known only to me."

Lieselotte lowered her head and her voice was not too steady.

"I need to think. Let me know if Pelle is agreeable and then I shall decide."

"Lieselotte, my child, we better not bring this up with him before you are decided," the Baroness Ermegart replied.

"He'll not visit before tomorrow. I shall give you my answer before then."

Ingeburg stayed with Lieselotte while Baroness Ermegart left to plan the next steps, namely to set the stage for the promised rewards for her co-conspirators.

-------

When Pelle arrived in Birkenhain on the next noon he delivered his coal as usual. His horses were taken care of in the stables of the castle, a gesture of consideration from the baron that Pelle appreciated greatly. Matthias and Marja gaped openly at the splendour of the buildings inside the walls, and Pelle spent some time showing them around. They made the planned purchases: fur lined shoes, wool cloth, and cloaks for the youngsters. They also bought things to stock up the kitchen, plus the promised keg of wine for Father Ortwinus.

Within a short time Gebhardt came running, smiling broadly and offering to entertain Marja until suppertime. The girl agreed with a smile and a blush, and together they strolled the alleys. That left Pelle and Matthias alone, but again this was easily taken care of when Pelle left the boy at the Red Cockerel with two Groschen and a promise from Elsa to show the youngster the time of his young life. Pelle then left the starry-eyed Matthias to his fate and returned to the castle where he was approached by the chamberlain at once.

"Our Lady Ermegart commands you to her chambers," he told Pelle.

Pelle was not daunted. He was accustomed to dealing with the baron's family by now. He was only curious to learn what lay in wait for him. Accustomed and familiar he was, but he still made sure to bow deeply and speak respectfully. The old baroness nodded with appreciation.

"We enjoyed the hospitality of your home, Pelle. Also, word has spread how you protected that peasant girl against the lewdness of the villagers. Ingeburg has filled us in on the true nature of those accusations levied against her and we all applaud your conduct."

"Such was my purpose, Lady," Pelle replied.

"You will hear more recognition today at supper. However, that for which I have to ask you will gain you no open thanks and no advancement. It will earn you my gratitude, though, and my personal friendship and protection."

Pelle bowed thinking of a fitting response. Fortunately his wits did not fail him.

"Richer rewards I cannot fathom."

"Yes, one may say that," the baroness stated with a brief, grim smile. "I shall be blunt. It would seem that the Mumps fever left my son unable to sire children. At least that is what the young Jewess thinks and I have come to value her judgement. Do you know what will happen when the House of Birkenhain is extinguished?"

"No, Lady."

"The lands will fall to Tosdalen Abbey. I imagine that living under Birkenhain rule is preferable to you?"

Pelle could not fully hide the hatred and the fear he felt at this prospect. The old woman nodded.

"I thought so. Well, here is where you can help. We all know the state of hope in which Ingeburg is and the rumour is that you are very skilled in making your wife happy. You are close to my son in face, hair and stature. We need you to sire an heir with the Baroness Lieselotte."

Pelle actually staggered back two paces. His mouth opened and closed while his mind tried to cope with this outrageous idea.

"L—lady, I fear this to be impossible. I am a loyal servant of your son, and to betray his trust so vilely, cuckolding him even, is not how I shall repay his kindness."

Ermegart nodded, obviously pleased.

"I can thus add a stout and loyal heart to your strengths. Nay, you will serve my son and the lands. He must never find out his weakness or it may destroy his pride. Poor Lieselotte will be childless and the lands will fall into the Abbot's hands lest you do us this service."

"Lady, if the your son learns of this he'll have me gelded and staked. If that is not all, if Ingeburg finds out she will know me for an adulterer and I shall lose her love. That I could bear even less than the gelding and staking."

"Ingeburg knows what I ask of you, and she sees the reasons behind it. Do not take my word for it, ask her; but keep this quiet. As for my son, he must never know. He will only see an heir born to his line and it will make him happy and proud. I shall make you this offer: when Lieselotte gives birth to a healthy child, be it male or female, Ingeburg will be released from her service in Birkenhain, free to return to your cabin. Or she can stay here and you will be made Overseer of the Lands. It will be your choice alone once you do this service for the lands."

"But how about the Noble Lieselotte? How does she feel about such shenanigans?"

"She showed the same honesty that you did, but she bowed to reason like you will. Help us, Collier!"

"May I speak Ingeburg first?"

"Certainly. Speak to her. Give me an answer before you leave though, for the next Saturday may be the right time. My son will engage in a jousting contest at the Wartburg and be absent for over a fortnight. That will be enough for our needs."

Pelle still was dubious causing a wry grin on the old woman's face.

"Isn't this what all men dream of? To plant a cuckoo's egg in another man's nest?"

Pelle shook his head, almost angrily. "I am no cuckoo and I like my own nest, Lady."

"You are and you do, Collier. Still, speak to your wife and let her persuade you. Think of your child living under Tosdalen rule!"

That thought sent a jolt through Pelle's mind. Still, this whole idea seemed dangerous and dishonest to him. He left the Lady Ermegart's chambers knowing that it was too early to call upon Ingeburg and he wandered the courtyard thinking furiously. Perhaps it was time to follow Ingeburg's thought and leave the lands. Yet he had to think of those dependent on him. Musing as he was, he was caught unawares when the baron's cupbearer blocked his path.

"My Lord wishes to speak to you. Follow me!"

What a day! First the baroness and now ... Had the baron found out about the plans? So far Pelle's conscience was clear, but for a lowly commoner to know what Pelle now knew might still prove disastrous. Yet the baron seemed to bear him no ill will when he was led in front of him.

"Sit, Friend Collier and have a cup of this hot cinnamon wine," he told Pelle while dismissing the cupbearer with a motion of his hand.

Obediently Pelle drank of the excellent wine waiting for the baron to speak up.

"Collier, I called you for I may need more of your services. You gave good advice when you told me about the wench Elsa. Things are better now, but yet no child was sired. Now, from what I hear from a learned and holy man, the fault may lie with me. I had the Mumps the year before last and I was told that the fever may leave grown men unable to sire offspring. Knowing how much my dear wife craves to bear children I fear I must deceive her, and for that I need your service."

"Wha — what service, Lord?" Pelle almost squeaked. He had a bad feeling.

"You seem to have what it takes and you're my equal in stature, hair colour, and even in voice. You will have to hide in my chambers and when I bring my wife in I shall make her kneel on my bed. Then we can switch places and you can mount her and plant a life in her womb."

"Lord, what if she knows me?"

"She won't. I shall have her drink wine to make her merry and sleepy. Once you are finished, I shall lie with her and she will wake up with me. She will never suspect the ruse, and she will be happy to bear a child."

"Lord, it may not happen at once."

"I know. Once I'm back from the Wartburg we shall repeat the charade. I may have to retain you for a few weeks here in the castle."

Pelle's head was hurting. Now the baron wanted him to sire a child with the baroness, the old baroness was urging him to do the same, and the young baroness was convinced, too? What did Ingeburg think though? He needed to speak her in private.

"You must not tell your wife; she is too close to my wife. Also, we need to be wary of my mother."

Pelle almost blurted out the truth, that the women were conspiring to achieve the very same ends. At the same time his conscience was easier now. After all the baron wanted this. His last worry was Ingeburg. He somehow had to speak to her before he made a commitment but the baron looked at him waiting for an answer. Perhaps, if Ingeburg did not consent, he could claim a bad stomach? Or better, he could control his manhood and claim that he was too afraid to get hard over the noble baroness?

"I shall do this service, Lord, if this is your desire. When will you have need for me?"

"I shall send for you. You better act surprised when my cupbearer summons you. Later, you can say that I admonished you to take better care of my sister. That will mollify Ingeburg."

"I shall do your pleasure, my Lord," was all Pelle could answer.

He did not see Ingeburg before the supper was served, and then they had no chance to speak about things. Finally, after the baron and his wife had retired from the table, they rushed for the stairwell and for Ingeburg's chamber.

"Did the baroness speak to you?" Ingeburg asked in a whisper and Pelle answered in a low voice.

"Yes, she did, and then the baron also spoke to me. Ingeburg, I shall never betray you. Say the word and we shall elope."

Ingeburg pressed his hand. "I love you for saying this, but where could we go in the midst of winter? Liese is a good friend to me and it grieves me that she is without child. I do not like it, my husband, but I can see the Baroness Ermegart's reason. The lands need an heir and there is much riding on this."

"Tosdalen," Pelle said grimly. "The baron and his mother reminded me of that."

"The baron? Why he?"

Pelle smiled grimly. "It would seem that our lord has come to similar conclusions. I am to hide in his chambers tonight and when he brings the baroness in, I am to take his place and plant a seed in her womb."

"The baron wants you to... ?" Ingeburg fairly squeaked. "Tonight?"

Pelle nodded grimly.

"Oh dear!" Ingeburg sighed, but then she looked up in alarm. "I must warn Liese!"

"Ingeburg, if there is a fight 'tween baron and baroness we're likely to get the blame."

"No, my darling man, not so she will fight but so she will be prepared. Liese is not like me. She is not keen on coupling with her husband. She almost never gets in her heat and she stays dry. You'll hurt her if she is unprepared. I shall be back with you in a short time."

Ingeburg jumped up and rummaged through a chest before finding a small earthen jug. She took it and then she was gone. Pelle was fairly bewildered but he resigned himself to waiting.

Meanwhile Ingeburg rushed down the narrow stairwell and along the richly decorated hallway until she stood before the old baroness' bower. Her knock was acknowledged and she entered in a rush.

"Ingeburg, you seem fairly winded. What brings you here when you could lie in your husband's arms?"

"My Lady, there is urgent news. Will you please trust me that I mean the best for our lord and his wife?"

"I have come to trust you, my child."

"Please, find a pretence and summon your son. I must be alone with Lieselotte for a moment. It is very important."

"Will you tell me the reasons?"

Ingeburg sighed. "Our lord has reached the same conclusion as to his lack of ability to sire offspring. He wants my husband to stand in for him this very evening. He plans to have Liese heavy with wine so she'll not know the deception. I must prepare Lieselotte lest she be hurt."

"Oh dear, and here we were conspiring ourselves! You are right to have her prepared, my child." The baroness rang a small bell and the chamberlain appeared in short time. "I have urgent need to speak my son," she declared haughtily and the chamberlain rushed out.

"Leave now, my child, and help Lieselotte prepare!"

Ingeburg left the chambers and hid behind a pillar, her heart beating. She did not have to wait for long. The Baron Sigfrid hurried along the hallways, clearly displeased and mumbling under his breath. As soon as he had entered his mother's chambers Ingeburg rushed along the hallway and for the baron's private rooms. She entered without knocking and the sight she found made her gasp. On the big bed lay Lieselotte, her hair open and wearing naught but her thin shift. She looked up surprised.

"What ishit, Inge?" she asked, her voice betraying her drunkenness.

Quickly, Ingeburg decided not to tell her everything. That could wait. Besides, in her drunken state Lieselotte would not understand it in the first place.

"Your husband wishes to mount you, Liese. Are you prepared?"

"Pee—prepared?" the drunken woman asked.

Resolutely, Ingeburg sat at her friend's side and produced the small jar of jelly. She dabbed her finger in it and lifted Liese's shift. Fighting her awkwardness she pried the legs apart and proceeded to rub the salve into Liese's vulva and into her tight canal. Liese gasped and her hands sought Ingeburg's arm.

"Oooh, thisish sooo good!" she purred. "I love you too, Inge, you make me feel ssoo good. Will you kish me?"

Ingeburg meant to peck her friend's lips but Liese's hand gripped Ingeburg's neck and held her while their lips locked into a long kiss. Ingeburg's fingers, still rubbing the salve in her mistress' sex suddenly gained easy access and she felt moisture emanating from her friend's womb. Ingeburg's eyes widened under the realisation that Liese felt more than friendship for her. Flustered she retracted her hand and gently freed herself from Liese's grip.

"I must be gone now. I wish you well, Liese."

It was none too early for her to leave the chambers. She had barely reached the stairwell when steps could be heard in the hallway. She rushed to her chambers but before she could explain anything to her husband a knock was heard.

"Pelle, Keeper of Lemdalen Forest, our gracious Lord wishes to speak you in private," they heard through he door.

Pelle rose from the bed, adjusting his clothes.

"Do it, my husband. I will never hold it against you. I love you," Ingeburg told him hurriedly before he left.

In spite of her worries, once she settled on her bed Ingeburg fell asleep and she never woke when Pelle returned to the chamber. But when the bustle from the kitchen woke her Ingeburg found herself in Pelle's tight embrace. She revelled in the comfort for a few moments but then she became aware of last night's events and she stiffened. Pelle must have felt it, for he woke up too.

He looked at her sheepishly and clearly ill at ease.

"Did you do what the baron asked you to?" she whispered, pressing his arm for assurance.

He nodded and Ingeburg saw him blush in the faint light.

"Did things go well?"

Again, he nodded. "It was awkward. The baron stood there in the darkness behind me and the baroness was lying on the bed, her face down. I had to mount her like that. I ... I could barely get stiff."

"Was it easy going in?" Ingeburg asked bluntly.

"Yes, she was moist and slippery. It ... it took some time for me until I was ready and she moved under me like she liked it. I felt bad all the time."

Ingeburg turned and hugged him. "We shall plan it better next Saturday," she said cheerfully.

"The next... ? But I..."

"She cannot conceive this time in the month. Next Saturday and Sunday will be better according to Rebecca. Like it or not – you must get her with child."

Pelle's groan was all the assurance Ingeburg needed. She actually smiled when she kissed him.

"Pelle, I am as certain of your love as I hope you are sure of mine. Do this for my friend Lieselotte, for the lands, and for the future of our child. And please be as gentle to my friend as you know to be. As gentle as you were with me."

"I cannot help it if I feel like I am betraying you."

"You are not. Will it help if I stay next Saturday? It will be easier for poor Liese, too."

"Can you stand that?"

Ingeburg shrugged. "I have to, the same as you have. Now let us get up. Soon we'll have to go to Mass."

During Mass and at breakfast the young baroness appeared nauseous and pale, obviously still suffering from over-imbibing. Ingeburg had to help her to her chambers after breakfast and Pelle was left behind. He was able to collect Marja before Gebhardt could lay a claim on her and together they went downhill to the lower town. Marja blushed fiercely when they entered the Red Cockerel, but she was more afraid to stay alone outside.

They found Matthias at a table and eating a hearty breakfast in the company of Elsa. The wench looked up and grinned at Pelle. Then her eyes fell on Marja and she gave the young girl a conspiratorial wink.

"Are you picking up this young bull calf?" Elsa asked and Matthias grew red like a beet. "Bring him back some other time; it was great fun with him."

"Is his slate clear?" Pelle asked with a grin.

"Yes, never worry." She looked at Marja. "I should be angry at you, young Marja."

Marja blushed and her eyes grew big. "W—why?"

"Our sturdy Gebhardt was a regular visitor and a pleasant fellow to be with. Now he doesn't choose any of us anymore. Instead he talks of his Sweet Marja all the time."

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Easy, Sweet Marja!" Elsa laughed. "I was only making fun. Do you like the big brute back?"

Marja's face heated up, but she nodded.

"Good. It's time for Gebhardt to find a sweet girl and start a family." Elsa tilted her head. "I may not ply this trade any longer anyway. I have some gold tucked away safely, enough for a dowry. Mayhap I'll buy a tavern myself. We'll see. Now leave, before the day visitors come!"



-------

Chapter 17: How the Baroness Lieselotte Climbs a Secret Staircase


They returned to Pelle's clearing and to an amply laid table. As attested by Luise's fawning around Tjark their marriage had started well. They all sat and ate their supper. Matthias and Tjark were both getting their share of good-natured teasing which they received in good humour. Afterwards plans were made for the week. They had to hurry with their latest kiln before it was too cold to dig up the clay for the coating. It was decided that both young women would help out to add more hands and feet to the effort. The rest of the chores would have to wait.

The masons would also finish the first stone kiln during the coming week, and they would have to burn it in carefully much like a smoke stack. It was crucial that the clay would dry evenly and throughout before they used the structure in earnest. It was good that the mason Wenzel knew stacks and furnaces so well, for the principle of burning them in was the same.

For all of them, the week was filled with hard work and long hours, but come Friday the kiln was covered in clay and sods. They even fired it on Friday leaving it for Tjark to tend while Pelle would take another load of coal to Birkenhain on Saturday. Before he left, Hunold came with two carpenters and their apprentices to start the work on Tjark's cabin. Tjark had felled and stripped larch and pine trees already, and those logs would be used for the framework. Pelle could hear the saws and axes for a while as he drove his wagon to Birkenhain.

He arrived a little after noon time and after finishing his business with the forge master he made his way to the castle. Here, the Overseer of the Lands, Neidhardt, found him and took him aside to speak of urgent matters. A first work party would come to the clearing in the next week to lay the foundation for the baron's hunting lodge, and Neidhardt had to supervise the effort. Pelle described the lay of the land and the condition of the soil while the overseer used his lead pencil to make notes on a scrap of parchment.

Next he taught Pelle his duties as Keeper of the Forest. Most important was the task to prevent anyone from felling oak or beech trees. Those were meant for the baron's use. Larch and pine trees could be felled for building, but only against pay. The wood cutters payed a fifth of their earnings to the baron and a tenth to the Keeper. Pelle had not known that. Neidhardt dampened his joy a little claiming a third of the Keeper's share for himself. Still, if Pelle could induce more men to be woodcutters in Lemdalen Forest he would earn many Groschen for himself.

Neidhardt kept Pelle for over two hours. Pelle learned how to fill in the numbers into a ledger book and how to calculate the shares. Some of what he learned was new but other things came back to him from his childhood memories. He made a mental note to ask Levy for some additional tutoring with the numbers and letters.

It was time then for supper, and the prospect of the next night made Pelle apprehensive. Pelle had moved up at the table sitting with the other overseers some of whom he knew and some he did not. He heard that Lemdalen Forest had not had a keeper in over ten years as it was too far from Birkenhain to be of interest. However, Lemdalen was growing, also because many disgruntled tenants of Tosdalen Abbey asked for a lease of land under the baron's rule. More land would be needed as would be the wood for the building of dwellings, barns, and stables. It was sensible to establish a keeper in Lemdalen Forest.

After supper, Ingeburg came to spend time with Pelle. The growing child showed now as Ingeburg's belly was swelling and her bust filled. As they strolled the courtyard talking in low voices she told him that the queasiness she had felt in the mornings was now gone. Pelle in turn told of what he had learned from Neidhard and the other keepers and overseers. They agreed it was good news. At one point Ingeburg looked around to make sure they were out of earshot from anybody.

"It is all set, Pelle. I was moved to a chamber above the Baroness Ermegart's rooms. Lieselotte will sneak upstairs after hours. She asked that I stayed. I hope you can accept that."

"Does she know about last Saturday?"

"No. The baroness and I spoke about it. She did not know. Learning about it may just upset her."

Pelle nodded. That was to be expected. He did not like it, but then he did not like the whole affair.

"Pelle, I believe I should help to bring Liese into heat. Last Saturday when I went to prepare her, I found that she gets aroused from my touch."

Pelle's eyebrows shot up. He had heard of such women before, even experienced it once, when two wenches in the Red Cockerel took turns with him and each other. Of course it was sinful but it had aroused him like nothing before.

"And ... and you? Do you feel heat when you touch her?"

Ingeburg's face became beet red. "I don't know, Pelle. It felt exciting to give her arousal. It is nothing like the feeling I have with you, though. Are you angry with me?"

Pelle pressed her arm. "No, beloved wife. I ... I spent a night with two wenches once, and they ... they gave each other pleasure, too. It stoked my lust like nothing before."

"It is sinful, isn't it?"

Pelle snorted. "What isn't? If you think you can put the baroness at ease, the better it is. It may even help me get stiff seeing you with her."

"You don't find Liese pretty?" Ingeburg asked incredulously.

"Oh, she is pretty. It's only, if we are found out I'll be drawn and quartered, and that thought takes the stiffness out of me."

On the way up to her room Ingeburg knocked on the door to the old baroness' chambers.

"I am on my way up. Is there any service you require of me before I go?"

The Baroness Ermegart sat there with Lieselotte, both playing a game of tables. She looked up with a smile.

"No, my child, go to bed. Lieselotte and I will play a while longer."

Once in Ingeburg's room they undressed to their shirts and huddled under Ingeburg's blankets. They left the tallow lamp burning while they waited.

Suddenly a section of the wood panelling opposite Ingeburg's bed opened noiselessly, and Ingeburg saw Lieselotte's face in the light of the candle she carried. She rose quickly and hugged the young noblewoman while leading her to the bed. Pelle moved to the side as far as he dared and Ingeburg made her friend lie in the middle. Even in the flickering light of the lamps Pelle and Ingeburg saw that Lieselotte's face was red and burning and she hung her head unable to look at Pelle.

"Do you want me to prepare you, Liese?" Ingeburg asked softly.

A nod was her answer and Ingeburg produced a fresh jar of tallow, one she had purchased from Rebecca the day before. Under the blankets Ingeburg's hand pushed Liese's shirt up until her legs and lower body were naked. Then her tallow-coated fingers gently rubbed her friend's opening, spreading the lips and applying the soft ointment. Liese gasped at the touch while casting a fearful look, her first, at Pelle.

"Be at ease, Lady," Pelle spoke up for the first time. "Ingeburg is your friend; it is better for her to prepare you. We will both strive to be gentle. I like this no better than you do, Lady."

Liese nodded, looking down again. "You don't find me... ? I know I'm not as pretty as Ingeburg."

"Nay, Lady, not that. Yet, for me to touch you can mean the wheel for me and worse."

For the first time, she looked at Pelle and regarded him. "You are afraid?"

"A little, Lady. 'Tis thin ice we're stepping on."

"So it is, Pelle. I am fearful too and for similar reasons."

"Ssh, who can find out, Liese?" Ingeburg whispered, gently rubbing her friend's vulva. "Be calm and enjoy my touch."

Lieselotte's eyes went wide, but before she could speak out Ingeburg's kiss sealed her mouth. After some muffled protesting Lieselotte gave in and sank back. Kissing her and rubbing her Ingeburg rolled on top of the young baroness. Then she brooke the kiss and withdrew her fingers. They were wet and glistening in the lamp light.

"Will you kiss me back, Liese?"

After a quick look at Pelle, Lieselotte nodded shyly.

"Let me lie down then," Ingeburg whispered. "It will be better that way."

She lay on her back and pulled Lieselotte on top of her. The young baroness, dazed and confused, began to return the kisses while Ingeburg threw back the blankets and motioned for Pelle to join them. He understood quickly enough. Hovering on all fours over Ingeburg, Lieselotte's naked legs and buttocks were accessible and he knelt behind her. His hand probed the wet folds gently, eliciting a soft gasp from the young woman. It was now or never. Determined he aligned his perfectly hard member with her opening and applied gentle pressure.

Again, Lieselotte gasped into Ingeburg's mouth as she felt the penetration, but no sounds of protest or pain could be heard. Slowly, very slowly, Pelle let his member slide into the tight opening. His worries about failing to get hard proved unfounded. Watching the two young women trade kisses and tender touches had made him rock-hard and feeling his prick rubbing the insides of Lieselotte's tight fanny stimulated him further. He knew that his conscience would plague him later but he enjoyed the tight fit.

To Pelle's surprise the baroness suddenly began to push her hips back aiding and intensifying the penetration. Squeals and moans came from her mouth which was still trading kisses with an Ingeburg who showed telltale signs of arousal, too. The women's moans mixed with the slap-slap of Pelle's steady fucking, creating an exciting symphony of lust. This was naughty, it was wicked and wrong and dangerous, but it was also exciting in its sinfulness. All three felt it, and all three began to shed their shyness and inhibition.

Ingeburg let go of her friend's lips and wiggled higher on the bed pushing Lieselotte's mouth to her breasts. The young woman almost snarled with lust when her lips found the nipples on top of Ingeburg's swollen breasts. Ingeburg, too, groaned under the urgent sucking and nibbling. Pelle watched this and his prick filled out even more, straining as he ploughed the noblewoman's furrow with more and more urgent vigour. He began to feel the tingle of his approaching peak of lust. For a moment he debated to contain it, drawing out the end of their tryst. Yet a shred of common sense told him to let go. He was to breed the baroness, not to woo her away from the baron.

Pushing into her one last time and feeling her soft flesh yield to his thrust he groaned deeply as his member spewed forth the essence of procreation deep into Lieselotte's core. Feeling the deep penetration and the pulsing of the hard and hot member inside her, Lieselotte shuddered and waves of heat ran over her body. She wanted to scream but Ingeburg was kissing her fiercely, muffling the sounds lest they be betrayed in their deceit.

When her thoughts cleared, Lieselotte found herself in Ingeburg's soft embrace. Pelle had withdrawn and he sat on the bed showing renewed uneasiness. Lieselotte gave him a shy smile.

"Thank you for being so gentle, Pelle, and for allowing Ingeburg to ease my fears."

"You ... I have to thank you, for the friendship you have shown Ingeburg, Lady," Pelle answered with a thick voice.

"She is hard to dislike," Lieselotte answered casting a longing glance at Ingeburg. Then she sat up, looking at the collier. "Will you mount Ingeburg, too?"

Pelle felt his face heat up. "I ... We ... It..." was all he could stammer.

Ingeburg rose to sit too and grabbed Pelle's hand. "He might," she stated. "Why do you ask?"

"You ... You always are so happy on Sundays and I could never understand it. It is because of your coupling, right?"

Ingeburg smiled. "It is more for us. We become one when we lie together. We feel together and we delight in each other's delight. There is no selfish thought between us, only sharing. It is indeed hard to explain, Liese."

Lieselotte nodded. "I had better leave you alone then," she said. She stood and arranged her shirt picking up the coat. "Thank you."

Again, she opened the panel door and stepped through it leaving Pelle and Ingeburg alone. Ingeburg caressed Pelle's face.

"Are you at ease, Pelle? Are you upset?"

"Frankly, I don't know. I feel bad because I felt lust."

Ingeburg nodded. "Pelle, I felt lust too when she kissed me and suckled on my breasts. I felt lust when I felt you mounting her. I'm not a bad woman, am I?"

Pelle shook his head. "Come what may, Ingeburg, you are my dear wife and I love you. Once the baroness is with child our lives can be normal again."

Ingeburg nodded and patted the mattress with her flat hand.

"I cannot wait! Come now, let us sleep. I need to feel you close to me!"

Once they lay snuggled close to each other Pelle felt more at ease. Still, he was thinking of the baroness. How tight she had been, how enticing her naked body had looked. Had she felt lust? Certainly. Due to him, Pelle? It was hard to gauge. She had after all pressed back against him. With an effort he stopped that train of thought. It was not doing any good. Chances were that the baroness would remember this night with embarrassment and guilt. The best course was to forget it and behave as if it had never happened.

Somehow he still fell asleep and he never woke before the chapel bell tolled for Morning Mass. Pelle and Ingeburg dressed and joined the other castle dwellers in the pews. The Lady Ermegart was there giving them a measured nod and the Lady Lieselotte was sitting with her, staring down at her folded hands.

After Mass, they sat for breakfast with the Lady Lieselotte presiding over the table. Once or twice Pelle felt her gaze, but when he looked up she had averted it. After breakfast, the Lady Ermegart bade them come closer.

"Pelle, your dear wife is pining for you all the time. With her child growing inside her she needs more of your care. Is it so important for you to return to your cabin?"

"The wood is charring, Lady, and will do so for a week. I would need to send word though."

Lady Ermegart looked around. "Gebhardt, will you ride to Pelle's cabin and tell his household that he is delayed?"

Of course, Gebhardt accepted with a huge grin and the Lady Ermegart gave Pelle a smug smile.

"Stay then, Pelle, and listen to Neidhardt's teaching for a week."

There was nothing Pelle could do, nothing in fact that he wanted to do. He could spend an uninterrupted week with Ingeburg after all. If only there would not be those nightly duties!

Thus, Pelle sat with the overseer and learned how to keep the Great Ledger where all the tillable lands and the woods were entered with their earnings, taxes, and tithes. The peasants paid a fifth for the lease of the land, and of the remainder a tenth as tithe. The overseer collected the church tithe along with the land tax, and once a year the share of the church was tallied. Of that share the Archdeacon of Birkenhain received half with the other half divided between the Bishop in Rennenberg and the Abbot of Tosdalen Abbey.

"Abbot wants them to pay a tenth of the whole, but the baron says no," Neidhardt told Pelle. "See, the Lord pays tithe, too, and were the peasants to pay tithe of the whole, the church would profit twice. He's a clever one, is our Lord Sigfrid."

Pelle just nodded. It made sense.

"The Jews pay their own tax, a quarter, but no tithe."

Pelle already knew that from Isaac. In other lands the Jews had to pay the church tithe but the baron was fair. Pelle saw that the Jew Tax easily accounted for a third of all taxes. To keep them happy was in the baron's own interest.

Pelle spent all day with the overseer. He learned that Neidhardt received a half tenth of all taxes and tithes collected, the latter to the displeasure of the Tosdalen Abbot. If Pelle ever attained that position he would indeed become a very wealthy man.

Another matter was brought up. As Keeper of the Forest, and even more so as future overseer, Pelle would have to enforce the baron's rule. In times of war the overseer would even have to command the Militia formed from the ranks of Birkenhain's citizens. It was therefore necessary for him to receive training in the arts of war. Thus an appointment was made for the next days with the Master of Arms. He would need a sword and a breast plate, but Neidhardt said he would borrow Pelle his own weapons for he was too old for this sort of duty.

A tired and thoughtful Pelle sat at supper, his mind busy with the flood of new duties he was facing. He was not sure whether he really wanted the post of overseer but even this decision was not his to make. With all those things on his mind he had a hard time getting into the mood when the Lady Lieselotte entered Ingeburg's chamber for the next attempt at planting a life in her womb. Thus, Ingeburg and Lieselotte spent more time caressing each other before Pelle was ready.

However, once he knelt behind the baroness' shapely buttocks his lust grew again and his member was stiff enough for penetration. Her tight, clinging sheath was as enticing as the night before, and this time the Lady began a low moaning in keeping with his thrusts. When he emptied his seed into her womb she pressed back against him frantically and he even thought he heard her purr with satisfaction. He wanted to withdraw immediately but her hand flew back and held him.

"Pray, do not pull out just yet," she begged. "Stay inside for a little while longer."

What could he do? He stayed, unsure what to do. The Lady Lieselotte began to move her behind in small circles while moaning softly. This caused him to rub against the soft, yielding flesh of her sex and the sensation revived him quickly.

"He is stiff again," Lieselotte whispered into Ingeburg's ear. "It is your turn, sister."

Ingeburg's eyes flew open and Pelle gasped. The suggestion took away their breath. To couple in the lady's presence? Yet, his traitorous member responded with excitement, stiffening at the arousing thought.

"Let us trade places, sister," Lieselotte whispered, kissing a flustered Ingeburg.

Following words with actions she disengaged herself from Pelle causing his member to leave her soaked sex with an audible 'plop'. Then she rolled Ingeburg on top of herself leaving Pelle to face his own wife's delectable behind. When Ingeburg looked at Pelle over her shoulder her eyes showed a mix of arousal and apprehension and he could not resist. In a flash he aligned himself with Ingeburg's opening and pushed.

"Ooaaah!" Ingeburg groaned. "So deep! Aah!"

In her new position, lying on her back under Ingeburg, Lieselotte looked up at the hovering man while her eyes took in every detail. She felt when he penetrated Ingeburg, felt when she shuddered with lust, and saw how her eyes squeezed shut. A lustful shudder passed through Lieselotte herself. Ingeburg in her lust was a sight that made Lieselotte's heart go faster. She let her hands wander down and under Ingeburg's shirt, feeling the outward curve of her belly, and then further up the swell of her breasts. Those were swaying now in the rhythm of the gentle fucking she received and Lieselotte enjoyed the feel in her hands.

Then Ingeburg's eyes opened and gazed down. Lieselotte felt her throat constricting at the sight. To regain her composure she looked past Ingeburg's lovely face and she saw Pelle who showed an intense concentration as he sawed in and out with infinite care. Lieselotte could feel the love between Ingeburg and her husband now, the tenderness, the care, the unselfishness. It was beautiful. Without conscious thought Lieselotte reached up and stroked Pelle's cheek. His eyes flew wide open at the touch but Lieselotte smiled at him.

"She is so beautiful, isn't she?" she asked, meaning Ingeburg of course.

Pelle nodded, his face showing strain.

"You love her dearly, don't you?"

He nodded, breathing increasingly laboriously.

"How does it feel to possess her?"

"I ... I ... don't ... possess ... her," he squeezed through clenched teeth. "She owns my heart."

Lieselotte saw the blissful smile on Ingeburg's face as she shook her head.

"Nay, I am all his and forever," she whispered.

"Ingeburg! I'm spending!" Pelle grunted.

"Do it! Please, yes!" she began to wail pressing back against her thrusting husband.

"Nnngggaahh!" he grunted again and even Lieselotte who was lying underneath Ingeburg could sense the spurts of his semen for Ingeburg jerked and moaned to the rhythm. Next Ingeburg collapsed on Lieselotte followed by Pelle. Lieselotte felt a rush of feelings and suddenly her own sex contracted and she gasped while feeling a strong heat rush over her.

"Mmmmnnng!" she moaned softly clenching her teeth.

They lay in a pile of sweaty bodies for quite some time until Lieselotte began to realise the weight.

"You are crushing me," she said softly once again caressing Pelle's cheek.

"Forgive me, Lady," Pelle blurted almost jumping up.

"Ssh, there is nothing to forgive. I instigated this and I have to bear the results."

Ingeburg rose up, too. "I must be heavy, Liese. Oh my, what just happened?"

Lieselotte smiled at her friend. "Something wonderful. At least I can understand you now. One day I want to feel loved too, the way Pelle loves you."

Ingeburg rolled herself off Lieselotte allowing the young woman to sit up.

"I need to be back in the Lady Ermegard's chamber. I'll tell her that Pelle was having a bad conscience and it took longer."

Pelle shook his head. "That is not wholly wrong, Lady."

"Be at ease, Pelle. It is not you who started this, and not me either. We are both pawns in an ugly game. I must be gone now. Sleep well, my friends."



-------

Chapter 18: How Pelle Rises in the Baron's Service


"Come in, friend Collier," the baron invited Pelle.

It was six weeks after Pelle's weeklong stay in Birkenhain. He had just delivered coal when the chamberlain found him and ushered him into the castle and into the baron's study. Pelle could not quite shake the apprehensions when around the baron.

After the weeklong stay and the baron's return Pelle had to stand in another time with a drunken Lieselotte kneeling on the bed. It had been awkward too, but this time Lieselotte was warned. She had been shocked and angry when she first learned about the way the baron was arranging for the deception but there was little she could do without exposing their own plot. Besides she had to admit that she too had deceived him.

"Your loyal services have borne fruit, Collier. My dear wife is now with child."

Pelle did not have to fake the sigh of relief; it was how he felt.

"Yes, I feel the same," the baron admitted nodding sagely. "We can dispense with the charade for now, at least until we know for sure. After the Solstice you will be made reeve of Lemdalen. I am not pleased with Markward's service. I need a trusted man there. You can live in the manor and even my mother will allow Ingeburg to join you there. How is this for a reward?"

"My humble thanks, Lord. This is indeed a rich reward you bestow on me."

"Nay, Collier. It is you who have saved the lands with your loins. Would that accursed fever had not taken this power from me! As it is my dear wife suspects nothing. She is happy to bear our child and I rejoice in her bliss."

The baron really cared for Lieselotte Pelle realised. As he left the baron's study he suddenly realised the reason for the new plans. He would be made reeve in Lemdalen so his presence would not always remind the baron of his own shortcomings. Pelle could understand that.

The good thing about this new development was that he could stay away from smelly, dirty Birkenhain. Their child would grow up surrounded by trees and green pastures. He could also keep plying his trade within limits. Lastly he could right some of the wrongs in Lemdalen.

Pelle sat at supper with Ingeburg who was getting increasingly heavy with child. She already knew of the changed reward and she shared his happiness, albeit not fully. The changes also meant a separation from the Lady Lieselotte, her dear, sisterly friend, and now even more. The week spent together in Ingeburg's chamber had cemented the bond between the two young women. Even Pelle felt a bond with her now, a bond born of the love for Ingeburg they both shared.

After the meal they retired to her chamber, it being too cold outside for a stroll. Instead they huddled under the feather-filled cover Pelle had bought for Ingeburg and talked about their future. It was late before they fell asleep, and late in the morning before the bell woke them. After Mass and breakfast, Pelle left the castle, conscious that his presence was no longer requested. The baron had been friendly enough but Pelle sensed a hidden uneasiness on his master's part. Before returning home he stopped by at Levy's house. His friend was slightly disappointed that Pelle would not become the new overseer, something they could have benefitted from, but he congratulated Pelle nonetheless on his advancement. Rebecca was as friendly as ever, but Pelle sensed a sadness that seemed to engulf her. Asking Levy the older man sighed.

"She is feeling the loneliness. Were it not for Ingeburg she would be friendless here. At least she is in the favour of both noble ladies."

There was nothing Pelle could do about that. He left his friend's house and steered his wagon out of Birkenhain and to the east. He met Gebhardt on the highway. The corporal was returning to Birkenhain after courting Marja for a day. The two friends talked briefly, and Pelle had the impression that the next Spring would see another wedding.

In the past weeks, Tjark, Hunold, and a passel of their friends from Lemdalen had been busy erecting the wood frame and the rafters for Tjark's cabin. The spaces between the beams had been filled with straw and clay, and wooden shingles were used to cover the roof.

The hunting cabin of the baron was also taking shape, being larger and more sturdy than the collier cabins and having two storeys. The bottom storey had stone walls and a massive door, and the workmen were currently busy erecting the wood framework for the upper storey. The clearing would look different for sure.

As it was, everybody was still living in Pelle's cabin while the clay of the walls and the chimney in Tjark's dwelling had to dry. Tjark and Luise kept a low fire burning in their future home to speed up the drying and to temper the chimney. Changes were about to come though. If Gebhardt had his way Marja would soon move to Birkenhain to marry the corporal. Tjark and Luise would move to their own cabin to leave Matthias alone in Pelle's cabin when Pelle would move into the reeve's manor. Pelle joked that Matthias would have to find himself a woman before long and was surprised when the young lad sported a dreamy smile.

Lastly, the stone kiln was ready and dried out. They had filled it with wood in the last week, and Pelle was looking forward to the first trial. It had taken them surprisingly long to fill the cavity, and Pelle expected good yields from it. Come the Monday, they would light the pile and then watch it and learn the use of the stone kiln.

°°°

Two weeks later, Pelle was walking Ingeburg along the aisle of the St. Petrus church in Birkenhain. He was admiring the high arches of its ceiling and the coloured glass mosaics of the pointed arch windows. It was Christmas Eve and the newly appointed Archdeacon of Birkenhain celebrated the Holy Mass. The baron had reached an agreement with the Bishop of Rennenberg, aided by his father-in-law, to install a high clergyman in Birkenhain, thus curbing the influence of the Abbot of Tosdalen over the town.

Ingeburg had to wear new, wider dresses to cover her swelling belly. Healthy as she was she had shown no ill effects yet, and Rebecca had told them to expect the birth during Rain Moon, April as the priests called it. This was a good omen, for children born in Spring were apt to grow to strength and health.

Pelle let his gaze sweep over the assembly. To the right, he could see Markward, and that man did not look happy. The evening before, the baron had announced the changes among his vassals, and Markward had been given a new task, Schultheiss of Birkenhain. Nominally, this was an advancement, but it brought him under the direct supervision and control of the baron.

Pelle's appointment to reeve of Lemdalen had caused little surprise. It was well known that the baron favoured him and that Ingeburg enjoyed the support of both ladies. After Christmas Day, Pelle and Ingeburg would make use of the current mild weather and travel to Lemdalen to take over the manor house from Markward. Pelle had already secured dry goods, ale, smoked hams and other foods for the food locker of the manor, and a large wagon would carry those goods to Lemdalen. The next Sunday would see him and Ingeburg at Lemdalen's St. Raphael Church where the baron would invest him formally.

Already he had received a finely crafted brigandine of black leather and blackened armour plates, as well as a coat bearing the Birkenhain Arms. The old baroness had gifted him a pair of the finest boots, while Lieselotte, through Ingeburg, had bestowed him a medallion bearing the Rennenberg seal. The latter would give him direct access to her father, the Count, and his protection. Pelle could not quite see the use of it, but he appreciated the gesture.

While he was musing, the archdeacon had progressed nicely in the Mass he celebrated. It was now time for the Lord's Supper, and they all knelt to receive it. For the first time in his life, Pelle received both Body and Blood of the Saviour, as the latter was a privilege of nobility and clergy. As the baron's vassal, he ranked highly enough to warrant a sip of the mass wine.

After the Holy Mass, baron and baroness gifted food and clothes to the poor who stood in line outside the church. Honey-sweetened cakes were handed out, and cinnamon wine was poured for the people of Birkenhain. Pelle was uneasy, standing behind the baron and being the focus of attention from the townspeople, but Ingeburg pressed his arm calming him.

An opulent supper waited for them in the Great Hall of the castle. Wine and ale flowed freely, and the castle dwellers partook of food and drink until late into the night. Ingeburg kept to the light ale and ate sparingly, but Pelle was forced to imbibe heavily, having to drink toast after toast with the other vassals. Thus, when they retired to Ingeburg's chambers, Ingeburg had to help her drunk husband to the bed much to her secret amusement. Pelle was always so levelheaded, and to see him out of control for once made him more human in her eyes.

Woe to him come the next morning! Pelle woke to a splitting head ache, and the Morning Mass in the chapel never seemed longer to his suffering mind. Salty bacon and plenty of hot teas at breakfast sufficed to reduce his suffering somewhat, but he was a miserable man all Christmas Day.

There were no fewer than three Holy Masses held that day, and thanks were said for a good year in Birkenhain lands. The baron gifted a new, large crucifix for the St. Petrus church, and the Archdeakon spent the best part of an hour consecrating it. Incense and myrrh made Pelle nauseous in his hung over state, and he was glad to escape after the last 'Our Father'. That evening, Pelle fasted in spite of the delicacies that were offered. Chomomile teas were boiled at Ingeburg's behest, and Pelle flushed his body with a deluge of hot tea.

The day after Christmas saw him almost his old self again. He spent hours with Neidhardt, learning his duties as reeve. After that, Gebhardt took him to the practice field, beyond the Southern Gate, to teach the Collier the rudiments of sword fighting. Pelle had purchased a used broadsword with handguard, an outward sign of his new position, and he wanted to learn how to wield it. Gebhardt was a good swordsman, and he enjoyed teaching his friend. It was clear that Pelle would never match a trained soldier, but at least he would be able to deal with the average footpad or brigand.

Pelle was soaked in sweat when they returned, and he took time to wash his body, using soap and some tepid water. Ingeburg's handmaiden was sent off to wash the sweat soaked tunic, and Pelle dressed in fresh garments for the supper.

The entire week was spent that way, with mornings under Neidhardt's tutoring, and afternoons on the practice field, and Pelle reached a point where he was able to hold off Gebhardt for a minute or two. Obviously, the baron had watched them for he commented on Pelle's abilities one evening.

"I see you are preparing yourself for your new tasks?" he asked.

"It were useless to carry a sword and not mastering its use, my Lord," Pelle answered.

The baron nodded to that, obviously satisfied, before another thought came up in his mind.

"Who will tend the hunting cabin?"

"My friend and brother Tjark, Lord, and his new wife Luise. Young Matthias, my apprentice, can help them. We plan on finding more helpers, to keep up with the needs of the forge. Come the spring, more of the stone kilns will be built too. The mason Wenzel promised me his journeymen and workmen. This will help us."

"I take it then that your stone kiln worked well?"

Pelle could not hide a smug smile. Never had he completed the charring in just five days, and never had the coal been so evenly charred.

"Yes, Lord. We can also keep up the charring in bad weather."

"That was good thinking, Reeve Pelle. I also see that Lemdalen will be in good hands." He seemed to end but thought the better of it. "Markward left large shoes for you to fill."

That appeased the former reeve who had been frowning. The baron regarded him for a moment.

"You, my Schultheiss, will have much work too. We must lessen the stench in Birkenhain. I have sent for a builder from Rennenberg. They have a sewer there, linked to a small creek, wherein all the wastes are flushed away. I want something like that built here, and you, my Schultheiss, will see to it that it is used. No more stinking refuse on the streets!"

The new Schultheiss looked not very pleased, but he nodded nonetheless, perhaps sensing that his position as vassal was none too secure.

°°°

Two days later after a church service in the St. Raphael's Church, the Baron Sigfrid of Birkenhain invested Pelle, Bero's son, as the new reeve of Lemdalen. The villagers looked on, many of them with happiness but some showing scorn and anger at this appointment. Some villagers feared for their investments, the years of bribes paid to the old reeve. Others felt that their past sins might be revisited on them with the change.

Most worried was Margrite and her two male accomplices. Her scheming had not paid off. Hunold had flatly refused to hear her father about a possible joining of Margrite with Hanke. When hearing from his father about Margrite's scheming Hanke was enraged, for his beautiful red haired bride was now married to his younger brother. This had happened through Margrite's and the two young men's fault alone as Hanke saw it. Louise's father soon persuaded himself that he too was a victim of Margrite's scheming, he having lost a favourable relationship with Hanke and Hunold. Inside a few weeks, the families of the three young conspirators lost valuable ties within the village.

To top it off, the scorned collier was now appointed as the baron's voice and sword arm in Lemdalen, and his wife Ingeburg returned to the village clearly in the favour of her half brother. Together the unlikely reeve and his wife took over the large manor house with its solid stone walls and slated roof. Ingeburg had even brought along her own maid servant and Pelle made it known that he would hire a stable boy and a cook for the manor. All this fairly upset the previous power structure.

In the village the opinions of Ingeburg had shifted considerably. Her successful plead for mercy on behalf of Louise, her modest and friendly demeanour, and the love she showed her husband had been noted by most villagers. The fact that their reeve's wife was a close friend of the baroness was seen as lucky for the village but also as a warning not to cross her.

Five of the villagers had gained from the changes. Hunold had been the largest freeholder already, but now he had the reeve for his son-in-law. The two smiths had been Pelle's friends for years and they would certainly be among those he trusted. This showed when Rudlo's young daughter Birte moved into the manor to take over the kitchen, at a pay that would provide for a sizeable dowry in but a few years. Tymo's young nephew Eric found himself as stable boy, making sure that his uncle would shoe the reeve's horses and those of the soldiers under his command. Hunold and Hanke received the lease of fifteen tagwerk of tillable land that supposedly served to feed the reeve, while Tjark was now acting as Keeper of the Forest.

A family of seven, fugitives from the eastern parts of the empire, arrived some time in January, hungry and cold, and they were glad to find work in the forest under Tjark the Collier. There were three boys, aged seventeen to twelve, and two daughters with that family. Pelle planned at first to have them move into his old cabin, but then a surprise visitor arrived in Lemdalen. It was Elsa the Whore, from the Red Cockerel in Birkenhain, and she came with young Matthias.

Pelle was a little self-conscious about receiving the woman in his manor with Ingeburg present, but he shrugged it off. He had nothing to hide after all, and he had confessed his visits to the Red Cockerel to his wife early on. He also had a hunch about the purpose of the visit.

"Reeve Pelle, I have come here to make an offer for your cabin out in the forest," Elsa spoke up.

"Is that so?" Pelle asked with a smile. "Why, a pretty wench like you would not think to start charring?"

"There are worse ways to earn a keep," Elsa answered earnestly. "Matthias and I have grown to like each other, and I wish to end my whoring days. I want a good husband and a family, and Matthias is a good lad. In a year or so, he may be his own collier, but I don't want to wait that long. I have saved all the gold from the baron and then some more over the last years, and I would ask to buy the cabin from you as my dowry."

Pelle looked at his apprentice. "Matthias, do you care for Elsa?"

Young Matthias nodded earnestly. "Never once did she treat me like a boy. She is honest and true, and I ... I like her much."

"So you do. Will you step before the priest too? I don't need the trouble with the Abbot about leaving my cabin to a couple living in sin."

Elsa and Matthias' hands found and clasped tightly while they both nodded.

"You are welcome then to buy the cabin. How are Gebhardt and Marja coming along?"

Matthias smirked. "He comes and visits every Sunday."

"Yes, but he took me along too, so don't you complain!" Elsa added with a laugh. "She can stay until that stupid ox will find the courage to ask for her hand. I like Marja just fine, and she can teach me a few things about cooking too."

Pelle held up his hands in surrender. "Woe to me were I to step in the path of love," he laughed. "Elsa, what can you bid for my cabin?"

"Seven Ducats gold," she shot back immediately, causing Pelle to smile.

It was a low offer, but haggling was deeply ingrained in Elsa after years as a tavern wench.

"I don't know, the glass pane in the gable cost me a Ducat already. I cannot accept less than fifteen Ducats."

Elsa's eyes lit up with the challenge, and a seemingly fierce argument ensued with caused Ingeburg to come and watch. In the end, they agreed on eleven Ducats which was still on the low side, but acceptable to Pelle. They shook hands over the deal, and Elsa allowed herself a smug smile. Pelle did not mind. He spoke to Matthias next.

"Once your apprenticeship ends, we can establish your rights at the baron's forge. For now, you keep up the work under Tjark. I'll draw a third of the earnings for the use of my kilns and my rights. I'm sure that Elsa can keep track of the monies."

Elsa cast a shy glance at Ingeburg. "Were it not for the Lady Ingeburg watching us I should hug you for your generous ways."

Ingeburg stepped closer with a smile. "Never call me 'lady' lest it may be overheard. I have no claim to such a noble address. I wish you well, Elsa, and you too, Matthias. I was very happy in the few weeks when I shared that cabin with Pelle. May your marriage be as happy as ours."

Elsa shook her head, her mouth hanging open, before she caught herself and curtseyed.

"You may not claim the title, but to me you are a noble woman. If you will forgive me, but in the Red Cockerel we hear almost everything that goes on in the castle. There was never any man who spoke ill of you, but they all praised you as a woman they would gladly have for their own, and many expressed their envy at Pelle."

Ingeburg gave the wench a friendly smile. "I can think of worse compliments when men praise me even in the presence of a beautiful wench such as you. I try to be as good to people as they deserve. Not that I always had such insight, but my father and then my husband set me straight before I was too deeply lost in my shrewish ways."

Elsa nodded earnestly. "May the Good Lord bless you and the child you are bearing!"

"Now, what shall we do with that family, Matthias?" Pelle asked, suddenly remembering the fugitives.

"We talked it over, all of us, and there is plenty wood and stones left over from building Tjark's cabin and the baron's hunting lodge, to build another modest cabin. We think we may do most of the cooking and smoking in your cabin, seeing that it has the largest fire place and an oven, too. Once they work and earn their own silver they can enlarge their own cabin. With six men we can char a lot of wood."

"That'll make the forge master happy, and the baron too," Pelle nodded. "We shall have to have those stone kilns built quickly. Let me know if you need anything else."

Pelle then sat down with Matthias and Elsa and entered the sale of the cabin into the Great Ledger. Hunold and Rudlo were summoned to witness the deed, and Pelle received the gold coins in exchange. Next, Father Ortwinus was summoned to plan the wedding. Pelle was cautious not to cross the all-powerful church so early in his new appointment. Father Ortwinus laughed when he arrived, noting that Pelle was responsible for all three weddings he had handled so far, but then he sat right down with Elsa and Matthias to gather the information.

Since Matthias was still apprenticed and an orphan, he needed his master's permission to marry which Pelle gladly granted. Elsa was another story. She was twenty years old, an orphan, too, with no master to govern her. Pelle solved this by promising to stand in for Elsa too, making the case that as the baron's reeve, he was ultimately responsible for all the orphans in Lemdalen and surroundings. Father Ortwinus also asked pointedly whether some past consort of Elsa's might protest the union to which the young wench answered that nobody had a claim on her, outspoken or implicit.

"Best move fast," Father Ortwinus muttered to himself, and then he set the next Sunday as date.

It was late, and Pelle invited his visitors to share the supper at his table. For the first time in the reeve's manor, Pelle and Ingeburg hosted visitors and Ingeburg was a little proud to sit at Pelle's side at the head of the table. She also promised to help Elsa with the preparations, an offer that was gratefully accepted. It was decided that Elsa stayed in the manor until their wedding to keep tongues from wagging and to give her a respectable start in Lemdalen. Elsa smirked then, remarking that quite a number of villagers knew her quite intimately, but she agreed to the charade. Come the evening, Ingeburg snuggled against Pelle with a happy sigh.

"It is good that our friends and kin find happiness too," she spoke softly. "So much has changed for the good in this past year, not least of all my own life. I always expected to be married to some old man, a retainer in the baron's service, who would accept me to brighten his old days. Now I have you, and you are higher in the service than even my mother hoped. Even more important, I love you with all my heart. Isn't it strange how our lives turned out? My mother's craziness, the baron's hate of her, my own vanity, they all worked mysteriously to bring me into your arms. A year ago, I saw you as somebody beneath my notice, somebody to heap scorn onto. Now I look forward all day for the night when I can lie close to you."

Pelle chuckled softly. "Look at it from my side. A year ago, I hated you. I was not jesting when I begged the baron to abstain from his idea. I was afraid of you too. I knew you could make my life a misery, beautiful and spiteful as I thought you were. I could not admit, not even secretly to myself, how much I coveted you."

"Really? In spite of my ways? Men are strange. The first time I really noticed you as Pelle, not as the dirty collier, was at the Church Fair. I looked at you when I made my apologies, and I hoped you could forgive me. Then I saw you were a good looking man. I may have seen you before without the soot, but this was the first time I connected you with the black man and I saw there was nothing wrong with you."

"You quite surprised me then. When you approached me, I fully expected another tongue lashing from you. I looked into your eyes, and in my heart I knew that you were earnest in your apology. Yet, my head protested saying that you were trying to set me up for another putting down."

"I'm glad that you listened to your heart," Ingeburg whispered. "You know, one of the first nights in the cabin, when you found me asleep fully clothed and you undressed me, I was not really sleeping. I felt your gentle touch when you took off my dress, and then you said that you wished you could trust me. I yearned to hold you then, to tell you that you could."

"You heard that? All of that?"

"You mean the part where you said I was beautiful? That was sweet. Many men and boys had said it before, but the way you said it made my heart beat faster. When Bartel said I was beautiful, he only said it to make me kiss him. If I didn't, and I never did, he said that Margrite or Louise were prettier, and he'd ask them. It was bad when he and Nithart were fighting, and everybody blamed me, but it was Margrite who told Bartel that I'd kissed Nithart, again a lie, and that was why they fought."

"Really? That girl needs a firm hand and soon. I swear, the next time I catch her in a lie she'll spend the night in the stocks, and I won't bother to keep a watch."

Now it was Ingeburg's turn to chuckle. "Oh yes, Pelle, you would. That's why I love you; you would not let anybody hurt her or any other maid."

"Hrmpf!" was all he would answer and Ingeburg giggled happily, pulling both his arms tightly around her for the night.



-------

Chapter 19: How Pelle Unveils a Great Injustice


There was not much to do for the new reeve of Lemdalen in the following months. Pelle spent most days making himself familiar with the Great Ledger and with his other duties. Once a month, on the first Sunday after church, he spoke justice under the ancient lime tree in the centre of the village square. Only petty quarrels were brought before him, mostly disputes over some tool being lent and returned damaged, but Pelle did his best to reach just verdicts. Margrite's father, Helge, was the one to raise most of the complaints, almost against every other person in the village, and Pelle learned that the old reeve had mostly sided with Helge. They had been drinking chums, and Pelle suspected that the reeve had received kick backs from Helge.

Now, the crafty farmer was thwarted in his complaints time and again, for Pelle was not inclined to do the man any favour. Once, he felt he had to uphold one of Helge's claims as a neighbour's dog had indeed killed one of his chickens. Yet on the whole, Helge was unhappy with Pelle's rulings. This was more than offset by the satisfaction most other villagers felt, and by the time the sowing moon arrived, Pelle was gaining respect in the village.

He made a point to show up in the tavern once a week, mostly on Saturdays. Over a stein or two of ale, he discussed important business with the villagers. Taking a leaf from the baron's book, Pelle planned to have a deep gutter dug along the village road. The small river that flowed nearby could be diverted once a day to flush the wastes away. The gutter would be lined with stones and clay, to prevent the wastes from seeping into the ground and fouling the wells.

Using ploughs and shovels during the late winter month, the villagers had completed that task within a week, and then the gutter was covered with slabs of stone from the nearby quarry. Once finished, everybody conceded that it reduced the foul smell in the village.

Since his manor house was upriver from most of the village, his own well provided good water, something for that Pelle was grateful. Considering everything, his new life was a good one. Most importantly, he and Ingeburg spent every night together. His duties, while important, were but light work compared with building the kilns, and he always returned home to a well laid table.

Pelle rode out to the clearing twice a week to see whether his help or advice were needed, but they seemed to cope well without him. The two newly wed couples, with the help of the family of fugitives, were still building sod kilns at a rate of one every month, and Tjark made deliveries to Birkenhain twice a week. In addition to that, the stone kiln was fired every two weeks, and the second stone kiln was nearing completion fast. The clearing was growing steadily as more and more trees were felled and their wood charred, but it would be many years before the colliers would have to move.

By early Rain Moon, the baron visited Lemdalen under the pretence of an inspection, but it was soon clear that he was charged by his ladies to ascertain Ingeburg's well being. He was very pleased with the way Pelle handled his office. He also visited and inspected his new hunting lodge in the forest. On this occasion, the Corporal Gebhardt presented his bride Marja to his lord, and Pelle heard later that the poor girl blushed pink under the baron's teasing. The baron gave his blessing to the planned wedding and expressed his hope that Marja would join his own kitchen staff for, as he said, she had a marvellous talent for pastries and stews.

In the midst of the Rain Moon, Ingeburg gave birth to their daughter. It was long and hard for her. From the first signs, poor Ingeburg fought for more than a day until the head came out, followed by the rest of the tiny girl. Pelle never felt more helpless in his life. He did not once stray from her side, holding her and encouraging her, and when finally the umbilical cord was cut, Pelle was soaked in sweat almost as badly as his exhausted wife. Yet, when the infant latched on Ingeburg's breast for the first time, he cried with happiness.

A large cask of Tosdalen ale was tapped in the tavern, and most villagers partook of the fine treat toasting Pelle and Ingeburg, but also their newborn child. Before the keg was even emptied, Pelle was at Ingeburg's side again, gazing with wonder at the tiny human being. The wrung out Ingeburg could not help but smile blissfully when she regarded her husband who had stood at her side all through the long ordeal. Yes, Ingeburg was happy. Happy, because she could feel Pelle's deep love even now as they were both utterly exhausted.

"Pelle, my love, can you be happy with a girl as your eldest?" she asked, already sure of his answer.

He smiled at her, a peaceful, content smile. "She is your daughter and bound to be a little angel," he answered. "How shall we name her, my darling wife?"

Ingeburg focussed on the issue. "My mother's name is hated in Lemdalen, and I would not saddle our daughter with it. Methinks Nele is a fine name, but would you mind naming her Ermegart? The baroness offered to serve as godmother."

"Having the baroness for her godmother? Our little girl will lead a happy life, indeed."

"She really has been good to me, all through my stay in the castle," Ingeburg mused. "We can name the next girl Nele."

"Seeing how you stand with the young baroness, we'll have a Lieselotte first," Pelle grinned.

Ingeburg smiled back, feeling the exhaustion catching up with herself. "Pelle, before I fall asleep on you, I want to thank you for being at my side all through the birthing. It is hard for a man, I know, and I love you for it."

"Hard for me?!" Pelle almost screamed. "You were the one to give birth, to feel the pains and the exhaustion. My darling wife, never in my life shall I forget the ordeal you suffered to gift me my first child."

"Can you hold me from behind then? My back hurts fiercely, and I would love your embrace while I sleep."

Instantly, Pelle shed his trousers and his vest and climbed into the bed behind his wife. She snuggled back, seeking the warmth and support of his strong body. She sighed happily, looking at her child with drooping eyes.

"What a wonderful day," were the last mumbled words before she fell into sleep.

°°°

It was three nights later, when Pelle was woken by angry shouts from outside.

"What is that?" Ingeburg asked sleepily.

"I guess I'll have to find out," Pelle grumbled.

He ambled down the spiral staircase feeling his way in the darkness. In the hall, he slipped his brigandine over his head and took his sword from the hooks. He opened the small window in the door and peered out. Several men and women stood there holding lit torches. Pelle recognised Helge, Margrite's father, among them. With a sigh, Pelle opened the door.

"About time you got your lazy arse out of bed!" Helge stormed shaking his fist at Pelle.

Pelle looked about. The two buettel appeared on the scene.

"Take that lout into the cellar," he ordered pointing at Helge.

Surprised, they obeyed and dragged the protesting man into the manor and down into the holding cell. Pelle looked sharply at the suddenly subdued mob.

"Now, will somebody tell me what happened?" he demanded aggressively.

Ortolf the Hunchback stepped forward. He was the father of Bartel, one of Margrite's friends.

"Helge's daughter Margrite is with child. He claims my Bartel did it, but she's also been seen with Nithart."

A woman raised her voice. "My Nithart is a decent lad!" she screamed. "It's Helge's daughter who seduced him!"

Pelle held up his hand. "First of all, where is Margrite and where are the lads?"

"Margrite's at my house," Ortolf stated. "Helge nigh on beat her to death, and she fled to us. My wife is tending her with Bartel's help."

"Can you keep her until the morrow?" Pelle asked, and Ortolf nodded.

Pelle nodded back. "This is no hour to settle the quarrel. Tomorrow at the noon bell, we shall all meet under the Lime Tree. Bring your youngsters and try to calm your tempers."

"What will happen to Helge?" a woman demanded. He recognised her as Margrite's mother, Alke.

"He'll get his punishment for insulting the baron's reeve. This is not about me; it's about my office and he should have known better. Somebody bring Margrite here an hour after sunrise so I may get to the bottom of this."

He fairly slammed the door shut behind himself and trudged up the stairs. Ingeburg sat awake, little Ermegart suckling on her breast and a candle burning by the bedside.

"Did you hear?" Pelle asked, and Ingeburg nodded.

"Now she did it," she said shaking her head. "Seeing two lads at the same time. What was she thinking?"

Pelle shrugged. "Knowing what I know of her, she did not get enough attention from one lad alone."

Ingeburg made a sad face. "I don't know. She was quite different when we were younger. Her problem is different from my own. Her own mother hates her, and it is Helge who is cavorting around her all the time."

Pelle yawned. "Let us get some sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow will see some ugly scenes."

"Give Ermi a few more moments," Ingeburg answered.

Indeed, the infant drank a little while longer and relieved herself with a hearty burp before Pelle and Ingeburg could settle for sleep again.

°°°

Pelle and Ingeburg were sitting at their breakfast table when the visitors came. Ortolf's wife brought a badly battered Margrite who showed bruises on her arms and welts where Helge had taken a whip or his belt to his daughter. Her right eye was fairly swollen shut and she showed a shiner. Tears were running down her cheeks as she stood before Pelle and Ingeburg. Pelle pointed at a stool.

"Sit and eat a bite first," he ordered.

Hesitantly, the young woman began to nibble on a piece of rye bread.

"I wanted to speak to you to see if there are things you can tell me that need not be heard by the whole village," Pelle started after watching her for a while. "You are carrying a child?"

Margrite nodded miserably with fresh tears running down her cheeks.

"Have you lain with Bartel, Ortolf's son?"

She shook her head, and Pelle observed that her hand holding the bread began to shake.

"Was it Nithart then?"

Again, she shook her head and she hunched her back as if awaiting a blow.

"Who else have you seen, girl? Was it a soldier or one of the farm hands?"

Another shake of her head was all the answer Pelle got.

"A married man of the village?"

Another shaking of her head was the answer. Suddenly a light went off in Pelle's head as he remembered Ingeburg's words from the night before.

"Everybody out, except for you, Ingeburg, and for Margrite!" he commanded.

With a look of fear Margrite watched the servants and Bartel's mother leave. They heard Birte close the heavy door from the outside. They were alone.

"Have you lain with your father?" Pelle asked bluntly.

The look of pure terror and fear was enough to give Margrite away. She stared at Pelle wordlessly.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked mercilessly.

When she did not answer, Pelle stood and walked over to her. With his hand he forced her chin up and looked at her.

"How long?"

"F-for nigh on two years," Margrite whispered.

"How did it happen?"

For the first time Margrite showed some fire.

"I did not ask for it! I had been out late with Bartel, too late, and Father was angry. He started to welt me in the barn, on my bottom, but then he stopped and threw me over the sawhorse. It has been like this ever since. He makes up reasons to punish me, and then he has his way with me. He..." she drew a deep breath. "He made me accuse Luise last fall. He wanted to have his way with her too while she was in the stocks."

Pelle looked at Ingeburg who slowly stood and came over. She put a soothing arm around her erstwhile friend while Pelle pondered his next actions. At long last, he opened the door and called for somebody to bring the scribe. When that worthy arrived, Pelle had also assembled Father Ortwinus and Rudlo the Smith. Once again, Margrite had to tell her story, and the scribe wrote it down on a parchment.

Accompanied by Ingeburg, Margrite then followed Father Ortwinus to the church where she made her confessions. Father Ortwinus was lenient on her. A hundred Our Fathers and another hundred Hail Maries were her penance, but it took her until after noon to complete it.

Meanwhile, Pelle had the buettel bring up Helge from the cellar.

"Helge, freeholder in Lemdalen, you stand accused of raising your hand against me, the rightful reeve of Lemdalen and voice of our Lord Sigfrid, by God's Grace Baron of Birkenhain," Pelle started.

As if he had waited to vent his fury, Helge answered with a scream. "You lousy bastard! You're nothing but scum! You..."

He reeled back under the impact of Pelle's fist. Pelle was a tall man, and his muscles had formed under the heavy work of hauling branches and swinging hammers and axes. When he hit the farmer his fist fairly broke the man's jaw, sending teeth flying about the room. His hand hurting some he rubbed it while he looked down at the prone man.

"Your daughter confessed her sins. We know how you made her lie before our Gracious Lord, so you could befoul an honest girl, Luise, Tjark's wife. We also know of your heinous crime against the laws of God and Emperor, befouling your own flesh and blood. Do you confess, rascal?"

Helge could only mumble with his broken jaw. "She's my daughter, an' I do as I please in my house."

"You admit to befouling her then?"

"Ha! She's been running with boys all along. She's a slut. She did the lying before the baron, not me!"

The scribe dutifully wrote down the mumbled rant. Pelle shrugged.

"Lock him up! The baron will speak justice next Sunday. Somebody bring in Helge's wife!"

Helge was back in the cellar when his wife Alke arrived. She looked at Pelle suspiciously.

"We know about Helge and your daughter," Pelle started. The woman flinched and blushed. "You knew about it, too?"

"I ... I could hear things, but Helge..."

"Yes?"

"He told me I better not speak lest he took his whip to me. He also said it was her fault."

"You let him continue in his sinful ways, defying decency and the rules of our Holy Church?"

The woman looked at him defiantly. "He's beaten me up enough. I could use the break, and the brat had it coming, speaking out of turn again and again."

Pelle shook his head. "You are but a poor mother to your daughter. One word to a neighbour or to the reeve could have ended this."

"Hah! The reeve was all too happy to get his turns on Margrite!" the woman spat contemptuously. "Who do you think instigated Margrite to speak in testimony against Luise? 'Twas Helge and the reeve who planned it so they'd get a taste of fresh meat!"

The scribe was scribbling furiously to keep up, and Pelle turned grave. This was a tough decision to make for him. Reporting his findings of the old reeve's conduct to the baron might backfire. He looked at Ingeburg who sat in the background, shaking her head over the revelations of this morning. She caught his look and beckoned him close. When he bent to her mouth she whispered into his ear.

"You must bring this before my brother. I know him well now; he will be grateful to you. Besides, 'tis the only right thing to do."

Pelle nodded gravely. Ingeburg was right. He kissed her forehead and returned to his chair.

"How do you know the reeve was in cahoots with Helge?"

"They made no secret out of it. They talked about it, and I heard them as they told Margrite what to say."

There was nothing left to ask and Pelle had the scribe seal the parchment. He ordered the woman locked up in a chamber in the back of the manor to keep her separate from her husband. It was time now to appear under the Lime Tree.

The families of the two lads were in presence already, and Pelle took a seat on the bench, flanked by the scribe and the schoeffen, three village elders elected to speak justice. Pelle began by questioning the two lads as to whether they had lain with Margrite, Helge's daughter. Both young men angrily denied such doings, and both claimed that Margrite had never allowed them to proceed further than kisses. Some villagers voiced their disbelief, but Pelle held up his hand.

"Margrite was questioned this morning and in her testimony she cleared both Bartel and Nithart. The true perpetrator will be brought before the baron to hear his sentence. I ask the schoeffen to clear the lads."

Breno, the village elder, spoke up. "Reeve Pelle, who was it then?"

There was no way around this question, but Pelle was hesitant to announce Margrite's shame to the entire village.

"I shall answer your question in private, and I ask you to keep it to yourself, for more is at stake in this matter." He then bent over the old man and whispered in his ear. "It was her own father and the reeve Markward who forced the girl against her will. Keep quiet lest we forewarn the rascals."

The wizened man nodded, a look of abject disgust on his face. "I am satisfied."

He whispered with his brethren, and they, too, nodded. The two young men were cleared by the schoeffen, much to the satisfaction of their families. Pelle then dispersed then villagers.

"Return to your toil now and be prepared for the Lord Sigfrid to attend the Holy Mass here on Sunday!"

This exciting piece of news at least partly superseded the scandal surrounding Margrite which had been Pelle's purpose from the start. He returned to the manor house for his noon meal and found Margrite sitting at the table with her eyes cast down. Opposite her sat Tjark and Luise, the latter showing red eyes. When Pelle entered Luise stood and hugged Pelle fiercely.

"Thank you for protecting me in the stocks and for bringing this to the light."

"Oh, never mind, Luise. I did it for my friend and brother Tjark."

Luise nodded. "Yes, it brought me together with Tjark, and that is the one reason why I may forgive Margrite."

"Remember, she was but a pawn in an ugly scheme," Pelle said, giving Luise another hug. "Now sit with your husband again."

Pelle sat down at Ingeburg's side and she quickly bent over.

"I had them come so that Luise learned the truth. She needs to be here on Sunday, so she can be cleared of the slander before the baron's eyes and ears."

"Good thinking, Ingeburg! Now let us have this noon meal so I may be on the road to Birkenhain. I have much to report to the baron."

Indeed, the second hour was not finished when Pelle took to the road on one of his new horses. This was a charger from the baron's stables, not a draft horse, and he reached Birkenhain before the supper bell chimed. The baron received him at once, obviously a little worried that Ingeburg's well being was the reason for his brother-in-law's visit.

Pelle relayed his findings and also presented the written testimonies as witnessed by the villagers and the priest. The baron's face turned red with anger over the revelations.

"You did well, my Reeve, once again. I shall question those village folks myself come Sunday, and then I shall act on it. The gall, to use me in their lewd schemes! I ask you though to be quiet about this and respectful to that rascal Markward at the supper table. Let us not give him any forewarning. Another thing: do you trust your buettel?"

"They were Markward's pick, Lord, and I fear they benefitted from his ways."

"You need trusted men, Reeve. I am thinking of posting a few of my guard soldiers in Lemdalen. I pay them anyway and we could save on the pay for the buettel who will not do you good in any real trouble. Do you think your friend Gebhardt may fit that role?"

Pelle smiled. "It would further his wooing of Marja, Lord."

"There is that. I shall send him with you, at least for the next moons, so you may unearth any more secrets and betrayals without fear of being betrayed yourself. Join us now for the supper."

Pelle sat as close to the dais as ever during supper, and he was honoured by being addressed by both ladies of the castle. Lieselotte asked him to convey her sisterly greetings to Ingeburg, and the Baroness Ermegart complimented him on his achievements so far. The baron then made it known that Pelle had already succeeded in building a sewer in Lemdalen. The old reeve, Markward, looked sullen hearing this, and even more when the baron bade him visit Lemdalen on the next Sunday to view the progress and take it as example for his own uncompleted efforts. Pelle realised that the baron was luring the man to Lemdalen without making him suspicious.

The young Baroness Lieselotte contrived to see Pelle briefly in an upper hallway where Pelle had his room for the night. She was showing her pregnancy clearly, being just three moons away from her delivery. She briefly pressed Pelle's arm.

"Give Ingeburg a kiss from me and tell her that I miss her fiercely. I shall never forget her sisterly love, and I shall never forget the gentleness with which you treated me. Do you sometimes think of me?"

Pelle blushed a little.

"More often than would seem proper, Lady."

"Good! I think of you too. Have a good night now, Pelle. I wish you all the best and I look forward to seeing your little girl."

Pelle spent a troubled night in Ingeburg's old chamber. A few days ago he had congratulated himself over the seeming sinecure posting as reeve. Now he was wading knee deep in the foulest matter he had ever heard of. How could a man befoul his own child? How could he lend her to another man and even make her part of a conspiracy to ruin yet another girl? He thought of little Ermegart, back in Lemdalen. Would he be a better father? Would his new power corrupt him and lead him astray as it had Markward? What did Lieselotte mean when she said she was thinking of him? Those were treacherous waters indeed for him to wade.

With this maelstrom of troubling thoughts in his head he barely found any sleep at all, and he rose for Morning Mass with rings under his eyes. Gebhardt met him outside the chapel grinning broadly.

"I have five men ready to come along," he announced with a smug grin.

"You do not seem displeased over leaving Birkenhain?"

"I reckon I can spend much time with Marja now," Gebhardt smiled. "Oh, look! It's your friend, the Jewess Rebecca!"

Indeed, there was Rebecca nearing the castle, a basket hanging from her left arm. She gave Pelle a huge smile, almost hugging him in her exuberance and checking herself just in time.

"Is it true that Ingeburg gave birth to a girl?"

Pelle smiled proudly. "Yes, she will be christened next Sunday. She is already as pretty as her mother."

Rebecca laughed. "What a burden on such a small infant! You know, I may come along with the baroness to watch over her. I'm almost her Lady in Waiting now, only I do not sleep in the castle. The Archdeacon has even spoken to my father. If I take the Baptism I can move into the castle."

Pelle made a face. "That would hurt Levy, wouldn't it?"

Rebecca wagged her head. "He leaves it up to me. There is nobody of our people in Birkenhain who I could marry, and Father has never been too strict about adhering to the Talmud. He's worried, too." She took a deep breath. "Pelle, the pestilence broke out in Cologne, and it raged for weeks. For some reason, my people were spared more often than their Gentile neighbours and people accused them of poisoning the wells. The townspeople came into a terrible rage and they killed all the Jews in Cologne. They even killed their own mayor who tried to prevent the slaughter."

"That is terrible," Pelle said feeling a shiver. "This couldn't happen here, though. You are well-liked here, and even though your father is a money lender, most people know and accept that he makes honest deals."

"People are terrible when they are scared, Pelle," Rebecca said sadly. "What if the pestilence comes here? There are no remedies. People will come to me for help, and I will disappoint them. How long will their gratitude for my past services last when their loved ones die of the Black Death?"

"You are seeing things too bleak, Rebecca," Pelle answered. "The baron will not allow unrest."

"The mayor of Cologne wouldn't either, and they killed him along with my brethren," Levy spoke up from behind. They turned to look at him. "I have spoken with my uncle. We shall collect on all due debts, but we shall not lend any more money. There is too much temptation for greedy men to have their debt flushed away in Jewish blood. If nobody owes us, there is less gain from our death. And death will come. The pestilence has crossed the River Rhine.

"If you will come by in two or three weeks' time, I shall give you your share in gold for you to hide until better times. I shall limit my lending to the baron for his trade in iron and steel and lay low. Friend, when the times will get dangerous, will you give shelter to my daughter? She is all I have that matters to me. Can I send her to Lemdalen and entrust her to your protection?"

Pelle took a deep breath and nodded. "That is what friends do, Levy. I am sure the baroness will shield her, too."

"Yes, up to a point. The baron is a good man. Tell me though, when his own rule of the lands is threatened, will he put the life of one Jewish girl over his own interest? I may be wrong, but I cannot see it. With you, I am sure."

Pelle took a deep breath. "Levy, friend, should you ever have fears for Rebecca's safety, send for me or send her to me. I shall take care of her and her safety."

Levy lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have spent the last two weeks writing a copy of my accounting ledger. Will you take it for safe keeping and protect my Rebecca's interest?"

Again, Pelle nodded. "As best as I can, old friend."

"You are a good man among the Gentiles, Pelle. Rebecca, my child, run now to serve the good Lady Lieselotte while Pelle and I will settle the business."

With a worried look at her father, Rebecca walked to the main gate and was admitted to the castle without ado. Pelle asked Gebhardt to pick him up at Levy's house with his horse a half hour hence, and he walked with Levy down the hill and into the town. Wrapped tightly in wax linen, Levy gave Pelle the copy of his ledger and a few instructions. Then the two friends hugged and Pelle stepped out to wait for Gebhardt.

The return ride to Lemdalen was done at a brisk pace, and they arrived only a little after noon. For the time being, Pelle picked Helge's house as quarter for Gebhardt and his small troop and had them billet there while he returned to the manor.

Over the next days, Ingeburg with the help or a host of friends, Luise, Marja, Elsa, and Hedwig, and her cook Birte, prepared for the feast to follow the baptism of little Ermegart. The baron with Lieselotte would attend, as would the Baroness Ermegart, and all of Pelle's friends with their families. It was a daunting task, but somehow on Sunday morning, all the pastries were prepared and the roasts spitted.



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Chapter 20: How Ermegart Is Named and Justice Is Spoken


The baron with his train arrived by the tenth hour. Pelle welcomed his liege lord whilst a proud Ingeburg stood at his side. She hugged the beaming Baroness Lieselotte who herself was big with child but would not pass on the opportunity to pay the visit to her beloved companion. Pelle felt mixed emotions seeing Lieselotte carrying his child. He had become a little fond of her in the nights spent together, but he feared to show any undue familiarity.

The baron was jovial to the point of outgoing. Within hearing of the villagers he praised Pelle's achievements. Only when seeing Margrite shuffling in the background – she had volunteered to help with the serving – did his lips get thin. After offering refreshment, Pelle led his visitors, nobles and commoners alike, to the church. Father Ortwinus stood ready, and the Holy Mass commenced immediately.

An excited whisper rose among the villagers when the Baroness Ermegart rose to stand in as godmother to her little namesake. Rudlo the Smith wearing his best tunic served as godfather, almost trembling with pride and excitement. The little girl protested with angry cries when water was poured over her, but soon enough she calmed in her godmother's arms. The baroness' eyes were brimming with emotion and when the ceremony closed, she hugged Ingeburg with feeling.

When they left the church again, the Baroness Ermegart sought out Hunold.

"It is time that I made peace with Greta," she said. "Will you bring her along to the feast?"

Poor Hunold swallowed and stammered. "I ... We ... She is still - umh - n–not hers–self."

"Bring her anyway. No grandmother should be locked up in her chamber when her first grandchild is baptised."

"Y-yes, Lady," was all that Hunold could answer.

The feast was a great success. Marja, Luise and Elsa, with Hedwig's help, had outdone themselves with their cooking. This was best proven by the fact that the baron secured one of Marja's deer liver pastries for himself and his wife, afterwards praising its taste as the finest he had ever sampled. The roasted mutton, Hunold's contribution, also disappeared with alarming speed, and the fine Tosdalen Ale shared the mutton's fate.

By the end of the second afternoon hour, the baron rose from his chair and toasted his hosts.

"I raise my glass to my reeve, Pelle of Lemdalen, and his wife, my dear sister Ingeburg. May their daughter match Ingeburg's beauty and gentle disposition, as well as Pelle's upright character and sharp mind, and she will be the flower of Birkenhain lands!"

When the cheering ebbed away, the baron had another announcement.

"'Tis a sin to end this merry feast, but my reeve and I have to do our duty for Lemdalen and the lands. Margrite, Helge's daughter, step to the fore!"

Margrite complied shuffling forward, her head bent in shame and to the scornful comments from the villagers. When she stood in front of the baron, she looked up showing her bruised face and red eyes.

"My Lord asked for me?" she said with a cracking voice.

"Indeed I did, lying wench. Is it true that you slandered Luise, a maid of good repute, so she would be caned and shamed in the stocks?"

"To my shame, I did, Lord."

"And did you instigate two lads, Bartel and Nithart, to join in the slander?"

"I did, Lord," she answered with a distinct tremble in her voice.

"Did you speak a false oath before me?"

"I did, Lord."

"Why then did you slander a girl who was your friend?"

"M-my father made me do it. H-he a-and M-Markward, the reeve. They made me so they could have their w-way with Luise whilst she was locked in the stocks."

"She's lying again!" the former reeve of Lemdalen shouted angrily.

"Step forward, Markward, and speak for yourself," the baron countered with barely suppressed anger.

"Lord Sigfrid, I always served only you. I brought Luise up for trial because Margrite and her friends lied to me. She has always been a shameless liar from when she was a young girl. I had to reprimand her more than once!"

With a scornful smile, the baron looked at the former reeve. "Why, Markward, didn't you assure me back then that Margrite was an honest and God-fearing girl who could be trusted?"

To that, Markward found no answer. Meanwhile Pelle brought forward Margrite's mother. The baron regarded her for a moment.

"Speak, woman. Did your husband conspire with the reeve to have Luise slandered?"

Taking a desperate breath, the woman nodded. "Margrite told the truth. Both Helge and Markward the Reeve had been breaking her will for months, and they made her memorise all the accusations. I have long been quiet, for I feared them both, and my cowardice has brought shame and unhappiness over my only child. I shall speak up now to end this. My husband Helge was behind this, so Margrite could marry Hanke, Hunold's son, in Luise's stead. The reeve was in it so he could break Luise's maidenhood. I overheard them more than once and I shall swear to it."

"Like mother, like daughter. They are both lying harpies, my Lord!"

The baron ignored him completely. He looked at Pelle.

"My Reeve, what else did you find?"

"I found that you were cheated out of rent, Lord. In the ledger it is written that Helge worked twenty tagwerk of your land. For that he paid rent. Yet, when we walked his tilled lands yesterday we found he works at least thirty and five for which he paid the rent to Markward. He admitted to it under questioning."

"Bring him forth then, so we may come to the bottom of this." Pelle and Gebhardt went to fetch their prisoner who looked bewildered and frightened.

"Is it true that you paid rent to the reeve and not to me, for fifteen tagwerk of tillable land?" the baron asked sharply, his eyes boring into the flickering eyes of the farmer.

"Yes, Lord. Mercy, please! I only did it under orders of Markward!"

"Why, you cowardly liar!" the former reeve shouted angrily. "It was Helge, Lord, who came with the idea, and he paid me only half the rent for those fifteen tagwerk!"

The baron smiled maliciously and winked at Pelle. Then he sobered and looked around in the crowd. Finally, his eyes found Luise who stood at Tjark's side following the proceedings with a sombre face.

"Collier Tjark, bring forth your wife!" the baron commanded.

Tjark complied, and they both stood before the baron. Sigfrid of Birkenhain made a face and shook his head, but there was no way out of it for him.

"Luise, Tjark's wife, I did you injustice by believing the slander against you. You were shamed in the stocks, and had it not been for Ingeburg and Pelle, worse would have happened. What has happened I cannot change. Yet, I feel that you and your stout husband who stood by you during your trials should be compensated. You were cast out by your father?"

Luise nodded, a sad smile on her lips.

"Then I shall make myself your guardian and give your husband a dowry worthy of my ward. Come to Birkenhain when you next deliver coal, and you will receive a chest of the finest linen and a set of fine copper pots and pans. Tjark, your allowance will be raised to a full dozen deer every year for your sustenance and your wife's."

Luise's eyes went big hearing that. She blushed pink, but she bowed courteously as she had once learned as a young girl when she had played Ingeburg's lady-in-waiting under Greta's tutoring.

"I thank you, my Lord, for restoring my honour before all of Lemdalen's people."

"'Tis but the least I had to do, Luise. Now, tell me: What shall be done with your slanderous friend Margrite? For offering a false oath to my face the stocks await her. But for slandering you and causing you shame and pain, should she suffer a proper birching?"

Luise made a face when she felt the responsibility and she cast a glance at Margrite. Her hatred at Margrite had waned over the winter when she realised how much better her life had turned out in the aftermath of her trial. Tjark was a far better husband for her than Hanke could have ever been. Yet, the sting of the public shaming was still felt. Just then, she caught Ingeburg's eye, and she knew the only proper answer.

"Lord, much as I felt hurt and shamed then, I know how much worse my fate would have been had not Ingeburg pleaded for mercy on my behalf. Margrite is with child now, and a caning may cause her to lose the fruit. That I would not want on my conscience, not for anything. I also know the cruel treatment she received from her father and the foul reeve. They poisoned her soul. I still remember with fondness the Margrite I knew who was my best friend and Ingeburg's. I beg you, Lord, spare her the caning!"

"Gentle Luise, you speak well, but Ingeburg knew you were wronged. We cannot let Margrite off without penance."

Pelle raised his hand.

"Lord, if I may speak, Luise has been blessed too, and she may have need for help to keep Tjark's house. Let Margrite's penance be a two-year servitude under Luise to atone for her slander. She may also birth her own child away from the wagging tongues."

The baron nodded and looked at Luise. "Will you accept her servitude for two years as penance?"

"That I shall gladly, my Lord," Luise answered, a smile on her lips, and not a cruel one either. "She may be well served to be away from her foul father, too."

The baron grinned openly. "I am sure that my reeve had this in mind. I see now that Lemdalen is in good hands. As for those two scoundrels, I shall take them along to Birkenhain where they will receive proper punishment. Pelle, my Reeve, hand me another stein of ale!"

Pelle complied and the baron raised it. "I drink to my faithful reeve. May he keep the peace in Lemdalen for many years!"

The toast of the baron was answered cheerfully by most villagers. When the hubbub died down, Pelle raised his glass in answering.

"I should return the toast and thank our good Lord Sigfrid. He alone under God's sun knew that Ingeburg, Hunold's daughter, was meant to be my wife, and for that I owe him eternal troth."

That toast caused a great deal laughter, for the villagers well remembered Pelle's protests and desperate look when he was joined with Ingeburg. Ingeburg laughed along with the villagers, but she stood and hugged Pelle closely. Then she faced the baron and the village.

"I too have to thank our Lord Sigfrid for giving me to the best man in his lands. I wish to thank our good Lady Ermegart and our Lady Lieselotte, for the kindness they showed me. I wish to thank my father Hunold, who kicked my behind when I needed it and who made the effort to show me the evil of my ways. My mother Greta is not with us in her mind today. If she were, I would thank her for trying her best to raise me, even if she was misguided in so many ways. She was not always the bitter woman most of you remember."

Everybody turned to look at Greta, and they gasped in surprise when they saw the Baroness Ermegart sitting with her erstwhile rival, holding her hand and speaking to her soothingly. The poor lunatic showed no sign of understanding, but the old baroness kept holding the slack hands.

Later, the baroness spoke to Hunold. "It must be hard for you, being saddled with her the way she is now."

Hunold shrugged. The ale had loosened his tongue a little, and he spoke out without thinking. "In a way, it was worse when she could still use her tongue."

He was shocked immediately at his audacity, but the old lady nodded sagely.

"I fear you spoke the truth. If the burden ever becomes to great for you to bear, have word sent to me through Ingeburg or Pelle. I shall find ways to help then."

By late afternoon, the baron and his entourage left. Ingeburg and Lieselotte had a tearful farewell, and the old baroness made sure to hold her goddaughter one more time before she left. Helge and the former reeve Markward followed the baron's train at a slower pace, on foot and led by ropes around their necks behind the horses of two guard soldiers.

As it was early evening when the noble visitors were gone and there was still ale in the kegs, the feast continued long into the evening. Margrite's punishment would be deferred to Monday. It was too late anyway, and Pelle decided not to sour the mood of the feast. Margrite received but a piece of bread and well water for supper before she was locked into the small chamber that served as her confinement.

The stocks were readied early on the next morning, and after Morning Mass which Margrite spent lying prostrate on her face under the altar, she was led out and locked into the stocks. Two soldiers were posted on either side of her and Pelle admonished the villagers that he would not allow stones or hard baked mud being slung at her head. Like Luise, she would be shamed but not injured or maimed.

At her sides, her friends and conspirators, Bartel and Nithart, were tied to the uprights of the scaffold for their part in the scheming. After a small shower of rotten fruit and eggs, the villagers soon started out on their work, for the blossom moon was approaching and the manure had to be spread on the fields. A few clumps of pig manure were also aimed at the offenders but Pelle quickly forbade this for his soldiers would have to endure the stench along with the miscreants.

It was not as cold as in the fall when Luise had been locked into the stock, but it was just as uncomfortable for Margrite. When evening came, she moaned with the pain in her back and her legs and she began to shiver in the colder air of the approaching night. Her two friends were not better off after spending the whole day chained to the posts.

When darkness came a hush fell over the onlookers as Luise, Tjark's wife, approached her former friend carrying a woven blanket over her arm. Margrite squirmed when Luise climbed onto the scaffold and disappeared from her field of vision.

"You are afraid? I was too," she heard Luise's voice. "I brought a blanket, to keep you warm during the night. I cannot help you against the pain in your back and your legs: that is something you have to bear. What's left of your virtue will be safe though."

"Luise, my father forced me to slander you and Ingeburg," Margrite whimpered, afraid nonetheless.

Luise spoke low, so low that only Margrite could hear her. "Did he force you to throw refuse at my face too? I did not even see him when you hurled rotten apples at me. I saw your glee, Margrite. Why? You were my friend, my only friend in the village safe for Tjark and Ingeburg, and they were both gone."

"I was so angry," Margrite answered pleadingly. "My father was after me all the time, and I had no reprieve. I felt a little better when Ingeburg had to marry the Collier; at least I could feel better than her. But then we heard that she was living in Birkenhain Castle with the young baroness. You were betrothed to Hanke and assured of a good marriage. Where was I? I felt better when you were shamed, and I hoped to marry Hanke to get away from my foul father."

"You should have told me. You should have told Ingeburg instead of heaping scorn on her. We would have helped you. We would have comforted you."

"Tell you? Are you crazy like Greta? Tell you that my father rutted on me most every Saturday? Tell you how he let the reeve take me on Sundays after church? Tell you how they sometimes used me both at a time? I was like a tavern wench, only without getting paid, and I should have told you?"

"Yes, you should. Ingeburg could have helped you. Even crazy Greta would have helped you back when she was still in her senses, and woe to your father with her being after him. You know how fond she was of us."

"This is easy for you to say, Luise. Whatever pain and shame I caused you, you still came to your husband a virgin. The shame I feel burns my soul. They took me against my will, but still, like a common whore, I felt lust under them! I hated them, but I shook under their touch. Would you have helped me if you had known that?"

"I would have been confused, but I would have tried. We shall never know now. Let us stop this. We shall have ample time to talk."

"Yes, when I'll be your maidservant," Margrite said bitterly. "That was done cleverly by your good friend Pelle. Will you pass me around among your friends, too? 'I'm so tired, Tjark, just use Margrite. She's a whore anyway.' Ow!"

Margrite howled when Luise smacked her behind angrily. The villagers looked up interestedly and Pelle raised an eyebrow. But Luise knelt close to Margrite's head now, pulling her ear and forcing her to look up.

"Margrite, I agreed to take you in to save you the birching. You will work for food and bed. You will obey my will, lest you be punished. Neither Tjark nor Matthias will touch you though, and when you'll give birth your child will be cared for. If you rather be caned, let me know and Pelle can arrange for it. After that, he'll send you to live with your mother and the baron's soldiers. You can learn to service six men instead of two. What will it be?"

"What choice do I have? I'll be your maid, then."

"Fine. Tjark will pick you up come the morning and bring you out. I shall collect your clothes from your father's house. Now try to stay awake lest you choke yourself."

That was indeed all young Margrite could do. The night was never ending to her, with her back aching and her raw neck. Yet, nobody molested her all night as promised and when the sun rose behind the tavern, the stocks were unlocked. She was led down from the scaffold, and Tjark came with his horse drawn wagon to pick her up. A half hour after sunrise Margrite was gone from Lemdalen.



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Chapter 21: How Pelle Thwarts the Abbot's Evil Schemes And Gets Rewarded


Two months later, in the hay moon, word came from Birkenhain. The Baroness Lieselotte, by God's Grace, had given birth to a boy, healthy of limbs and well formed. Upon hearing this message, Pelle and Ingeburg hugged briefly, but then Pelle ran to alert the priest. A few moments later, the church bell rang and Father Ortwinus led the villagers in a prayer for the safety and health of the baron's firstborn son.

The next day, more news came. The birth of an heir had occasioned great celebrations in Birkenhain. The baron himself had visited each and every tavern in his town and purchased rounds of drink for all present. Another day later, the baron sent word to summon the reeve of Lemdalen, his wife, and a delegation from Lemdalen to the baptism of the Honourable Lodewig of Birkenhain, firstborn son and heir presumptive of the noble Baron of Birkenhain.

A week later, horses were harnessed and gaily decorated wagons were readied as the delegation from Lemdalen set out towards Birkenhain. Ingeburg rode the wagon with Hunold, her stepbrothers Hanke and Tjark, and Tjark's wife Luise. Pelle rode his horse, wearing his armour and sword and leading four of the six guardsmen under his command.

Hanke was sullen around his younger brother and Luise, still unhappy with his own role in the lead up to Luise's trial. He was the oldest, the heir, and still his brother and his stepsister were the ones with spouses and even children. There was no bride left for him in Lemdalen now that Margrite was shamed, and he would have to look elsewhere. Add to that that his younger brother Tjark was set to be a wealthy man, with now three masonry kilns running and seven or eight people filling and firing them. True, Tjark paid Pelle for the use of the kilns, but from what Hanke heard they shipped coal to Birkenhain twice a week now and were building a fourth kiln.

Arriving in Birkenhain the people of Lemdalen mixed with the crowds of the town and of the four other villages that belonged to the baron. Only Pelle and Ingeburg with little Ermegart were led into the castle where they were given Ingeburg's old chamber. Almost at once, Ingeburg rushed to Lieselotte's chambers to see her sisterly friend. She found the young baroness well recovered if tired, while a gaggle of nurses and maidservants fussed around her firstborn son.

Also in the room was the countess of Rennenberg, Lieselotte's stepmother, who had accompanied the count to the baptism of his first grandson. Ingeburg could see that there was no friendship between the countess and Lieselotte, and she found out immediately that the countess saw the half-sister of the baron as an unworthy intruder too. It was the old Baroness Ermegart who calmly stated that Ingeburg was counted among the baron's close family. Ingeburg felt uncomfortable under the disdainful looks of the countess, but she endured them for her friend's sake.

The count had far less compunctions accepting the new reeve of Lemdalen. He even remembered the former collier from the wedding banquet and gave him a friendly nod when introduced. The men were standing in the great hall of the castle waiting for the summons to church, and the count told of the fearsome spread of the Black Death through the lands along the River Rhine.

"I can see the finger of God in this," the abbot of Tosdalen announced with his wheezy voice.

Once again Pelle felt the hatred against the fat priest wash over him, the man who had Pelle's father burnt at the stake. Once he had the attention, the abbot continued his pontifical statement.

"The City of Cologne was befouled by the presence of the accursed tribe of Juda. See how many of them crawled about that fine city and how mercilessly God punished those of the city who allowed them to ply their ungodly trades. Truly, my good Baron, you must rid your town of those. Extinguish them in blood and fire, and your town will be spared from God's holy wrath."

"My good Abbot, you cannot speak in earnest," Baron Sigfrid returned showing his irritation, and even a trace of anger. "Those of Juda's tribe who dwell in Birkenhain are but honest traders and business tenders. Did you not take loans from Levy?"

"I did, and he charged me with unholy interest."

"He made you pay back a loan, my good Abbot. Surely, you did not expect the son of Juda to gift you seven hundred Ducats?"

The count laughed grimly. "Isn't Tosdalen the richest abbey far and wide? Why would you need to lend money, good Abbot?"

"We had some improvements made in my private chapel, for the greater glory of God."

The count snorted derisively, and the baron shook his head.

"My good Abbot, your chapel would well behoove an archbishop in its glory, yet your peasants are ill-fed and ill-clad. 'What you do to the lowest of my brothers, you do to me.' Hungry peasants do not work well either. Methinks your need for loans of Jewish gold stems from bad overseeing. My grandfather granted the rich lands for the sustenance of the pious brothers of your order and not for vain efforts at glory."

The abbot glowered at the baron. "Yet, the Jews will bring bad luck to the town," he maintained.

"Hold your peace, Abbot," the count retorted. "The Emperor himself has granted the Jews peace and licence to ply their trades, and they pay him taxes and fees plenty. Even the Bishop says so."

Pelle studied the object of his hatred carefully finding no redeeming quality in the man at all. He was immensely fat, even more so than fifteen years ago when Pelle's father had been burnt, and in his small deeply sunk eyes Pelle saw base instincts and falseness. Yet Pelle knew that his hatred was futile. The abbot was safe from Pelle's wrath. Just then, the small eyes focussed on Pelle.

"You're Bero's son, Pelle?"

"That I am, revered Abbot," Pelle answered with an effort.

"You better not stray from the path of our Holy Church. Mind your father's fate well lest you share it."

"The Reeve Pelle is well known to attend the Holy Mass and to follow the teachings of the Church," the baron stated not bothering to hide his dislike. "He is my voice and my justice in Lemdalen, and I find his service true and without fault."

"I wouldn't know that. I know the Reeve Markward well and I always found him a good and honest man."

The baron laughed easily. "Abbot, better tend to your scriptures, for you know not the wickedness of men. Markward cheated me and he cheated you; that's why I had him branded and driven off my lands. It speaks not well for your loyalty to give that man shelter."

"The Holy Church will forever be a haven to those in dire need," the abbot wheezed. "He will serve me well."

"Better make sure then that he never sets foot on my lands," the baron retorted grimly, "for he is banned on peril of death. My Reeve, should he ever show in Lemdalen again, his life is forfeit."

"Aye, my Lord," Pelle answered. He saw the hatred in the abbot's eyes, and he allowed himself the luxury of unmasking his own odium for a brief moment. There! The abbot paled and even flinched! The knowledge that his nemesis feared him gave Pelle a rush of excitement, but he also felt apprehension. Scared dogs bite, and he would have to be leery of the false priest.

Soon it was announced that the women with the infant were ready. Pelle found his place behind the nobles and the more senior retainers. From there he could watch the abbot unobtrusively. He caught the malevolent glare that the priest cast at the Baroness Lieselotte and the little boy in her arms. Of course, the birth of the baby boy would block the hopes of the abbot to take over Birkenhain as possession of Tosdalen Abbey after the baron's death.

They were in the church now, and the women joined their husbands in the pews. Ingeburg sat with Pelle holding her infant daughter who slept peacefully.

"I just fed her," Ingeburg whispered smiling warmly.

Pelle pressed her hand in response. Looking up again he saw the abbot searching the pews with his look. His look swept past Pelle and then seemed to fixate on somebody to Pelle's left. Letting his eyes dart into the same direction, he saw a matronly woman nod back at the church man. Seemingly satisfied, the abbot returned his gaze towards the altar.

"Who is that woman yonder," Pelle whispered to Ingeburg indicating the stout matron.

"She is one of Lieselotte's new waiting women. I think she is in charge of little Lodewig' cleaning."

Pelle's eyes narrowed when he heard that. The woman had clearly given a clandestine signal to the abbot, the same abbot who would profit if the baron were without an heir.

"Arrange for me to speak the Baroness Ermegart in private, right after the baptism. It's urgent!"

Ingeburg heard the urgency in Pelle's voice, even as he whispered. She did not understand, but she trusted her husband's judgement. She nodded.

"I shall do your will," she whispered back.

"When you return to Lieselotte's chambers, keep Lodewig in sight at all times. That waiting woman may scheme to hurt the boy," Pelle whispered, and Ingeburg's eyes widened for a brief moment before showing a grim resolve.

"I shall do as you say," she responded, her free hand pressing her husband's arm.

"Take this for your protection," Pelle whispered, giving Ingeburg his own, finely forged dagger. She hid it under her robe.

The Archdeacon of Birkenhain then started into the ceremony. It was an elaborate affair, and it went well until the parents with the God-parents assembled around the basin. Here, the intended God-mother, a niece of the Baroness Ermegart, suddenly tottered, sinking to the stone floor. At once, several women rushed forward to tend to her, but she was wobbly on her legs having indulged in too much of the good wine, and certainly unable to hold the infant boy over the basin. After conversing with Lieselotte, Baron Sigfrid stalked along the aisle and approached a surprised Ingeburg.

"Sister, will you do us the service and stand in as my little son's God-mother?"

Ingeburg looked at Pelle, but he only reached out for little Ermegart. Blushing furiously, Ingeburg stepped out of the pew and the baron led her forward on his arm causing excited whisper in the pews. It was a struggle for Ingeburg not to faint herself as she held the wriggling bundle while the Archdeacon performed the rite and the Count of Rennenberg as the God-father looked on.

Pelle watched his young wife with amazed pride. How far had she come from being a spoilt, insufferable shrew, hated by the entire village and disdained by the baron, to serving as God-mother to the his heir. Then he saw the abbot again, and he became aware of the urgent need to warn the baroness.

Ingeburg kept her word. While leaving the church, she quickly bent over the old Lady, seemingly to hug her, but Pelle could see that she whispered into her ear. The quick look that the baroness darted at Pelle confirmed that. Thus it came that Pelle, still holding the sleeping Ermegart, gave the old woman a quick, whispered account of his observations.

"Follow me to Lieselotte's chambers, Reeve, and hold your sword ready!" she commanded immediately, taking Ermegart out of his arms and carrying her herself.

She led him up a secret stairwell that Pelle had not known, and they entered into the dressing chamber of the baroness. Right when they stepped in, they could hear Ingeburg's angry hiss.

"Foul traitor! Try your worst, but know that you are already discovered."

They entered, Pelle in front, to see Ingeburg with little Lodewig pressed against her chest, brandishing his dagger against the traitorous waiting lady who also wielded a long, extremely thin bladed dagger. Without thinking much Pelle jumped forward and the woman whirled to face him. He could see that the tip of the dagger was greenish, poisoned in all likelihood, and he approached the woman warily. She turned with him, neglecting Ingeburg who then made a dash towards the adjoining room and into the arms of the old baroness. Smiling triumphantly, Pelle now bore down on the would-be assassin.

"Watch out, Pelle!" Ingeburg warned him from behind.

Pelle approached cautiously, knowing that the baron would want the traitor alive, yet unwilling to sacrifice his own life in the process. The woman lunged at him a few times, but Pelle was not confident enough to counter. However, during her next attempt he succeeded in slashing her arm with his good sword and the dagger dropped. She quickly bent to grip it with her left hand, but Pelle caught her head with the flat side of his sword and she went down in a heap.

The baroness strode forward with little Ermegart still in her arms.

"Bind her, Reeve, while I alert my son, but be wary of other weapons she may hide."

Pelle nodded silently. He used a fire poker to turn the traitor on her back and to flip the dagger into a corner. While Ingeburg watched with the infant boy in her arm, Pelle tied the woman up using his own boot laces. He was finished and the assassin was waking slowly when the baron stormed in followed by the count, his father in law. Behind them Pelle could see the pale face of Lieselotte who cried out and rushed for Ingeburg to make sure that her son was unharmed.

"Report, my trusted friend!" the baron addressed Pelle, and Pelle related his observations of the abbot first, and then the exchange of winks and looks with the serving woman. The baron looked down at the bound traitor and she winced knowing full well the cruel punishment awaiting her.

"You have a choice now, traitorous woman. Do you wish to die a thousand deaths at the executioner's hands, or quickly and without pain? If it's the latter, speak now and uncover the foul treason to us."

She looked up with resolve. "I was assured of Paradise after my death, so you may do your worst to my mortal body."

The baron looked at Pelle and shrugged. "I shall have the truth from her in time, but the instigator will elope."

The count shook his head. "You do not want to tangle with the Church, my son. Leave it be for now."

"I have a mind to strangle him with my bare hands!" Sigfrid blurted, a murderous expression on his features.

"And risk an imperial ban? Nay, my Son, heed my advice."

Pelle spoke up. "My Lord, I shall do it for you and take the banishment if you will in turn care for Ingeburg and my little daughter."

The baron looked at Pelle with surprise and a grim smile replaced the snarl.

"Your time may come, Friend Pelle, but my father is right. Your zeal is noted, and so is your true service. God guided my hand when I gave you Ingeburg for your wife."

Pelle glanced over where Ingeburg and Lieselotte were standing closely together, their children in their arms, and he took a deep breath. "Aye, and it was a gracious God."

The baron was already contemplating the consequences. "I shall have to better the protection for my wife and son."

The count nodded. "And I shall speak the Bishop upon my return. Let us see if we cannot find pretence to remove the abbot from his exalted position."

"That were the best, Father. A less powerful abbot would strengthen the Bishop's position too."

This discussion went over Pelle's head now, but he gathered that the abbot would go scot free for the moment. He did not like that, but the decision was not his. For now, they had to join the celebrations in the Great Hall. The Baroness Ermegart announced that she would watch over the children with only her personal waiting ladies present. The Captain of the Guards picked his most trusted men to watch over the baroness' bower, and they had strict orders to limit access to just the baron and baroness. Sigfrid took no chances.

All eyes were directed at them when they entered the hall. Pelle was quick to look at the abbot and he saw the hatred in the fat priest's eyes. Undaunted, Pelle stared back smiling grimly. His archenemy was showing his colours openly, but in his new position Pelle was not the helpless victim his father had been. The baron had seen the exchange too.

"Be wary of the man," he whispered. "You had better protect your house at night and in your absence."

For the first time ever, Pelle and Ingeburg sat on the dais with the baron's closest family. Tongues wagged in the hall over the sudden elevation of the former collier and his wife, but only a few trusted retainers knew of the reasons. The countess of Rennenberg certainly disapproved of them, but she was kept in check by her husband who seemed less than enchanted by his wife. Any snide remark she started was met with a forceful rebuke by her husband until she sank into sullen silence.

The mood in the hall never recovered during the afternoon and when the visitors left, most were more or less sober. Pelle and Ingeburg stayed for the night, wary of travelling through the darkness. Ingeburg spent the evening with Lieselotte. In the meantime, Pelle was summoned to the Baroness Ermegart's bower. She looked him over for a while while he waited. Then she motioned for him to sit on a chair.

"I have learned something that you have to know. The golden cross that Ingeburg wears around her neck, did you ever learn the meaning of the inscription?"

Pelle nodded, just a little puzzled. "Yes, Lady. It is Latin, meaning 'For my most trusted vassal, Hubert.' My great-grandfather served my Lord's great-grandfather, the Baron Lodewig."

"He served him indeed. I found out the true extent of his service the other day when my confessor read to me from the chronicles of Birkenhain. Lodewig of Birkenhain was over forty years of age, and his wife Barbara was of the same age. They had no children. Lodewig was not a saint by all accounts, and his philandering ways were blamed for the 'curse', for none of his many concubines bore children either.

"They despaired over having an heir, but then a miracle was worked on them. They left Birkenhain castle for a full year which they spent in a simple hermitage away in the forests with only one servant, Hubert's wife Eufemia, and with a priest, Father Urban. Their prayers were heard, and when they returned to the lands, Barbara had given birth to a son, Rupert, who lived on to become the next baron of Birkenhain. A miracle, to be sure."

The old woman smirked at Pelle who thought he understood.

"My great-grandmother bore the baron's child?"

"Possible, but not likely. He never had issue from any of his concubines. No, it would seem that Hubert and Eufemia's child was born in that hermitage to be claimed by my husband's grandfather. That was Hubert and Eufemia's true service – they gave away their child for the lands. They had more children, your grandfather among tem, and his line lives on in you. The priest became the first abbot of Tosdalen, by the way."

"That would mean..." Pelle started.

"Yes, you are my son's cousin, but that is something we cannot make known."

"But Ingeburg, she's also my cousin!"

"Thrice removed, and not worth to fret over. Besides, I'd rather had those chronicles burnt than to separate you two."

"Chronicles! The priest, the abbot Urban, did he also write something down? If yes, the abbot will know this secret."

The baroness nodded with a grim smile. "He cannot speak up, for the Baron Rupert gifted the abbey with the lands it owns. To call in question the legitimation of the House of Birkenhain would void that gift of land."

Pelle had to admire the crafty old woman. A new thought popped into his mind. Knowing about the ruse himself, the abbot must have resented his father and feared his possible knowledge. Perhaps, his father had said something to stoke that fear. Pelle decided grimly that one day he would settle the blood feud with the fat monk.

°°°

Both Pelle and Ingeburg slept fitfully during that night, and when they set out for Lemdalen the next morning, they took precautions. Armed guards rode with them, and Pelle had his bow and quiver out and ready. As the baron's reeve, Pelle now openly carried arrows tipped with broadheads and some even with ring busters which when propelled by a stout yew stave could penetrate chain mail and even cheap plate armour.

They encountered no adversity but once they arrived, Pelle and Gebhardt devised a regular system of armed sentries to guard village and manor.

On the next morning, Pelle called for the freeholders and tenants to assemble in his hall. The baron had ordered measures to protect his dominions in the times of unrest that lay ahead. The spread of the plague was best thwarted by blocking access to towns and villages for all strangers. For that, the village had to be fortified. A builder would come from Birkenhain to plan and oversee the work, but Pelle had to convince the villagers of the necessity and to find enough workers. The sturdy reeve's manor could be a part of the fortification with its high stone walls, but the rest of the village would have to be surrounded by a wall.

Fortunately, the baron had seen fit to open his richly filled coffers for this measure. Pelle could offer a payment of two Groschen for a day of work, and many villagers were won over by the prospect of earning good silver during the otherwise idle winter time. The two smiths would also make good business by supplying nails and hinges for the planned gates, as well as shovels and other tools for the work. The two carpenters could expect the same while the landlord of the tavern reasoned that thirsty men and silver never stay together for long. Thus, many of the leading villagers were quickly convinced.

The farmers had other interests, of course. Their livelihood came from their fields and pastures outside the village. Pelle was able to convince them by painting a grim picture of the plague and of marauding soldiers in its wake who would rape and pillage the survivors. He also offered slightly increased prices for their produce which would be stored for emergency rations. This started a discussion of the best crops and vegetables for such stores, and suddenly the farmers saw the need for a fortification too.

In the end, Pelle extracted a commitment from the villagers to work on the wall from after the harvest until the spring plowing and sowing. Next, he took the men for a march around the village. Stakes were rammed into the ground to establish the outline of the wall, and Pelle walked the outline twice to count his steps. The villagers looked on in awe as he wrote down the numbers with a lead pencil. The lessons with Neidhardt now came to pass.

The farmers and craftsmen had an intuitive knowledge of the amount of work required to dig a dozen steps of ditch, pile up the soil into an earth wall, and erect a stone wall of two men's height. Using that as a basis, Pelle calculated that it would take two dozen workers a score weeks to get the wall built. It was quite an undertaking but once finished, the wall would give the village and the people within a solid protection. It would also give protection to Pelle, his family, and his friends against the abbot and his scheming.

Two months later, the baron's chief mason arrived with his journeymen and apprentices, eight in total. Pelle was able to show his plans for a ring wall, and while the craftsman made some changes to details, he found the overall ideas without fault. Within two days, thirty grown men and almost as many boys began with the digging of a ditch for the foundation. The work started from three points along the outline and it took two weeks to finish.

For generations, the farmers had picked up stones from their ploughed fields. For want of a use, they had piled them up along the baulks, creating low stone walls in the progress that served no real purpose. Those were a ready source of building stones. A rocky valley an hour's walk to the East would also be used as quarry once the nearby materials were used up. The farmers and their carts were in great demand now to haul the stones to the building sites, along with clay from the small river. From dawn to dusk, the sweating horses and mules pulled the heavy wagons while equally sweating masons and their helpers piled the rocks to form a slowly growing ring wall.

When the trees had shed their leaves, the baron visited the village and surveyed the progress. What he saw then was to his satisfaction. The entire village was already surrounded by a wall over a klafter high, and the masons were busy erecting the arch of the gate tower. Winter had not yet come, and work was progressing well. This even more so since the untrained workers now had a better idea of the principles of masonry and they worked more efficiently. The carpenters were already busy erecting the wooden walks along the inner side of the wall making the masons' work easier.

The winter was mild for a change and Pelle could expect the wall to be finished before the spring sowing. Once the wall was finished, gatehouses would be built to house the soldiers and their sergeant. Gebhardt was looking forward to this. Once he had his own house, he could marry Marja.

The baron saw no fault in the work and promised more silver to fund the works. He knew that Lemdalen would gain importance with the fortification and would attract craftsmen, yielding higher revenue for the lord of the lands. Within a generation or two, Lemdalen would change from village to town, increasing the value of the lands for his son and grandsons. His keen eye also saw that the walled village could command the entire valley, thus securing the eastern flank of his dominions.

When Sigfrid of Birkenhain spoke to the village, he made mention of such possibilities. He also made people gasp with surprise with his last words.

"Brother Pelle, trusted Reeve, you have my gratitude for your goodly service to the lands and my house. Once you sire a son, raise him to follow you in your office, for I bestow the reeve's office on you and your offspring, for as long as our families shall thrive."

Hereditary reeve! The people stared at Pelle who had risen from lowly collier, maligned and disdained by most villagers, to one of the highest offices in the lands.

"My Noble Lord, I shall always serve you, and may my son and his sons continue this service to your noble offspring for all future and for the good of Birkenhain lands."

It was only after the baron had left that Ingeburg moved close to her husband.

"We should get started on that son, don't you think?"

He looked down into her lovely face and he chuckled.

"Did we not start enough last night?"

Ingeburg gave him a teasing smile.

"One can never work enough towards noble goals."



-------

Chapter 22: How the Black Death Comes To The Lands


It was Spring Moon when the wall around Lemdalen was finished. Father Ortwinus conducted the inauguration, blessing the wall and the gate tower. The baron sent his greetings. What Pelle could gather from the messenger, Birkenhain was preparing for the Black Death. In Rennenberg lands the pestilence had already wiped out entire villages and the count of Rennenberg had implemented desperate and harsh measures against the spread barring all strangers from entry into town and castle.

A week later another messenger arrived from Birkenhain. Pelle was sitting at noon meal with Ingeburg, Gebhardt, and his scribe when the man arrived. One look told Pelle that the man had come in great rush.

"You bear news from our gracious Lord?" he inquired.

"Indeed, worthy Reeve. My Lord speaks, will my brother close the gates of Lemdalen and bar all men and women, elders and children, Christian and Jew, aye, even holy men, from entry until such time when the Scourge of Death, the Black Pestilence have left Birkenhain Lands. Such is the danger that villages and towns whole are left without a living soul within a week once the Black Death strikes, and the learned men and doctors of divinity tell us that keeping out strangers will keep out the Plague. So speaks our Lord."

"Brave messenger, tell our Lord that Lemdalen's gates will be closed ere the vesper bell sounds. Tell me, is Birkenhain safe?"

"There is unrest among the guilds, Reeve. People say to do away with the accursed tribe, for the wrath of God is upon those who shield the murderers of Christ, our saviour. The abbot of Tosdalen has taken to preaching against the Jews, but our gracious lord has forbidden him entry to town and castle. News have come from Rennenberg and from the bishop. Our Holy Father Clement has commanded all Christendom to stop the killing of Jews without proper trial. Yet, the spice trader Avraham was beaten to death three nights ago in his shop."

"Have you heard of Levy and his daughter?" Pelle asked sharply while Ingeburg almost jumped from her chair.

"They keep to their house. People say he won't leave because all his gold is in the house."

Pelle turned pale. This was just the rumour they needed. Thirst for gold and the incendiary preachings of the fat abbot might soon lead to violence. Pelle made up his mind.

"I shall ride to Birkenhain this hour. Gebhard, secure the village and my house. Ingeburg, do not worry. I shall be back by noon tomorrow, but I have to fulfil a sacred duty. Have word sent to Tjark and bid him come into Lemdalen with all the people from the clearing. Have them bring their bows and arrows: they can help guard the village."

Ingeburg stood close to her husband. "Will you rescue Rebecca, Pelle?" she whispered.

"Aye, that I shall. It is what I swore to Levy, and now is the time to keep my word. All the years I plied my trade as collier ... Now, wait! Indeed, why not! Messenger, return without me. My tasks are here in Lemdalen."

His wink told Ingeburg not to pursue this, and she nodded. The messenger left then, and the moment he was gone, Pelle stormed upstairs. He returned, not a quarter hour later, wearing his old collier garb. He grinned at Ingeburg and Gebhardt.

"I believe I shall deliver the coal again. Ingeburg, wish me luck!"

"God be with you, my husband. Be careful, too, for you are the light of my life."

"Be strong now, my wife! Troubled times are coming. Let no man or woman enter this house and be vigilant at all times!"

Carrying his good yew stave and his quiver, but also his sword, Pelle left Lemdalen on horse back. By early afternoon, he reached the clearing and saw the smoke from one of the new kilns. Five men were working to fill another kiln while a sixth, Matthias, watched the one currently charring. They all stopped their work and gathered around Pelle.

"Tjark, brother, I need a wagon filled with coal sacks and within the hour. Do not ask questions, just start piling the coal on the wagon."

Puzzled, the men started to load one of the two wagons while Pelle explained the situation. Tjark was worried as was Matthias. They were exposed on the clearing in these coming troubles.

"Flee you to Lemdalen, friends, and take your dearest belongings," Pelle instructed. "Make haste, too, for the Black Death moves like a wildfire."

Tjark nodded. "My father will take us in, but where can Matthias and Karol's family go?"

"Let them take Helge's house. Margrite's mother does not need a large house for herself."

In very short time the wagon was piled high with coal sacks. Pelle left his horse with Tjark and climbed on the wagon seat letting the whip crack.

"Wish me luck friends!" he shouted, and then the wagon rumpled along the forest path and towards Birkenhain.

It was getting close to dark when he approached the gates of Birkenhain. At first the guards would not let him pass, but Pelle got one of the soldiers to run to the master of the forge. The good man was surprised to see Pelle, but he was quick witted enough not to say anything except giving orders to let Pelle with his load pass. Once alone with the forge master, Pelle explained that he had urgent and secret business for the baron. He left the coal wagon with the journeymen and apprentices at the forge for unloading and made his way to town.

At Levy's house, he noticed the smell of shit. The people had thrown dung and shit at Levy's door. He kicked the door softly.

"Levy, it's your Gentile partner. Open up!"

A strained whisper sounded from inside.

"Pelle?"

"Yes, it's me. Let me in!"

The door opened quickly, and Pelle slipped in. Levy looked haggard and worried.

"Friend, it is dangerous for you to come."

"It is more dangerous for you to stay."

"This is my house, and it was my father's house before me, and my father's father built it. I shall not give it up and let it be soiled."

"Friend, I came to bring you and Rebecca to safety."

"How do you propose to bring us out of this town? They watch us, fearful that I might escape with the gold they ascribe to me."

"I thought of my old coal wagon, under the empty sacks."

"That might work, friend, but I shall not leave my house. Yet I ask you to bring my only child to safety. She is up in the castle tending the young baroness but I expect her back soon. She comes with one of the guards for protection, yet she was hit by a brick three days hence, thrown by some coward. Please bring her to safety, friend."

"Are you certain that your wish is to stay, come what may?"

"Come what may, friend. What gold I own is in safekeeping with the baron."

"Then I shall better pick Rebecca up at the castle. They will not watch me there."

"You have a good head, Pelle. Oh, one more thing: when you leave my house, curse me and call me a blood sucker. Pretend to be a debtor."

"Do you think this is needed?"

"Yes. Now wait while I pack a few things in a bundle for Rebecca."

Within a quarter hour Levy was back pressing a bundle into Pelle's hands.

"Her clothes and her mother's things. Go now. May you walk in peace, my friend!"

"May God hold his protecting hands over you, Friend Levy. Be watchful!"

Pelle left then, cursing under his breath. "Accursed son of a bitch!" he hissed. "The outrage, to demand interest from a Christian freeholder!"

Pelle saw shadows lurking in the corners of the surrounding houses, and he increased his tirades.

"Ha, interest! The nerve of this dog! I shall pay him back with interest, never fear. To think that I only borrowed ten silver Groschen and now he wants sixteen back!"

They left him alone as he marched uphill towards the castle, and once out of sight from Levy's house Pelle's hand around his sword hilt relaxed. He did not meet Rebecca on the way and he decided to enter the castle and report to the baron. The guards did not recognise him, but the chamberlain was summoned and allowed Pelle entry.

"What news do you bring, Reeve, and why this masquerade?"

"I came to see the Maid Rebecca, Levy's daughter. I have need of her knowledge."

"She is with the young baroness. I can tell her to wait. Our Lord will want to speak you."

Pelle looked down at his garb. "I'm not clothed properly..." he began, but the Chamberlain shook his head.

"He is in his private study. There is no need for fancy dress. Come with me!"

Siegfrid of Birkenhain himself was dressed in less than courtly clothes. He was in fact wearing a padded tunic, the underwear worn under plate armour. He looked up as Pelle was ushered in.

"Brother, what brings you here?"

"My Lord, I only came to see my friend Levy and offer him my hospitality in the turmoils to come. He refused me, but asked me to bring his daughter to safety."

"I wish he'd listen to you. Old Avraham was murdered, and I fear Levy may be next. Now the rumours start that the young Jewess is a sorceress. We are trying to keep her here, but there are many in the castle who loathe her presence. Yet, to bring her out of town may just start the riots I try to quell."

"I have my coal wagon, and I thought to bring her out under the empty sacks."

"That is a good plan. Can you rely on the people in Lemdalen to accept her presence?"

"Father Ortwinus is a good man; I am sure he will keep his peace. The most important men in the village have profited greatly from the building of the wall; their support is a given. Some trouble makers may grumble secretly, but I have Gebhardt and his men, and a good eight or nine villagers, kin and friends, who are loyal. Lemdalen is secure for you, Lord."

"That is good tidings, Reeve. I wish ... Say, Brother, I am worried about my wife and my son. There is unrest in the town thanks to that infernal abbot who keeps preaching nonsense. When the Plague will strike and my armsmen will be decimated, who will defend castle and town? The abbot will use his cunning to incite the simpletons against me and my family. Remember, my son stands between the abbot and Birkenhain lands."

"Do you wish for me to hunt him down?" Pelle asked grittily.

"The good count of Rennenberg is doing his best to convince the bishop of the abbot's disobedience against the Holy Father, but that will take time and no prelate will take to the road in these times. What you can do for me is to host my wife and my son in Lemdalen until the times get better. I can spare a half score men to add to your dozen. Lemdalen is out of the way of any highway, and a score men-at-arms can easily hold the place against marauders."

"If you, Lord, entrust your wife and son to my protection I shall pledge my life for their safety."

"Best we have you move right this night. I shall pick the men personally who will accompany you. You will hide the Jewess under the sacks, and my wife will travel in a simple wagon to avoid any trouble. Have some food now, Brother, while I will make the preparations."

Pelle was slightly stunned at this development. He had only planned on bringing Levy and Rebecca to safety, but now he was charged with the baroness and her young son. Pelle's son too when all was told. He ate some cold cuts and bread and washed it down with thin ale, but then he went down to the forge and drove his wagon up to the castle.

When he arrived in the great court yard, Rebecca came running.

"Pelle, is it true? Does my father send me away?"

"He wants you safe, Rebecca. Look, he gave me this bundle for you, with your dresses and your mother's belongings."

"Cannot you take him too?"

"I offered it and beseeched him to come, but he is set on not giving up the house of his fathers."

"They will kill him. Cannot you talk to him again?"

"It would not avail us. His pride and honour will not allow him to leave. Come now, Rebecca, let us hide you under the sacks, and don't you move on the way out of the town. The baron will keep up the order in town, and likely you will see your father again in but a few weeks."

Rebecca resigned herself and let Pelle pile coal sacks over her. She would need a bath later, but the pile of sacks looked unsuspicious. Just a few moments later, another wagon drove up, one with seats in the back. The baron came out then.

"Brother, you had better leave the town in your guise as collier and wait for the wagon and the men at the crossing by the stone bridge. Paulus here will ride with you; he is on my body guard and a good man. If you are challenged, you are returning to Lemdalen after delivering coal and you offered Paulus to ride with you as he is leaving my service."

"What if we are stopped outside the gates?"

"Then you can show what you learned from Gebhardt. Whosoever waylays travellers on my roads forfeits his life."

"So be it, my Lord," Pelle nodded. "How long until the other wagon follows?"

"An hour, not more. Godspeed, Brother!"

"And His blessing on you, my Lord!" Pelle replied.

"If I perish, I count on you to uphold my son's claims, my Reeve."

Those were the last words exchanged as the wagon started downhill and through the village. The infernal rumbling of the iron tyres on the cobble stones was louder than ever, but nobody approached them on their way to the lower gate. Paulus had a brief exchange with the guard, and the gatekeeper grumbled about having to lower the drawbridge for them, but then they were on the road.

Pelle kept a low pace, reasoning that they would have to wait for the other wagon with the baroness anyway. In short time, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and there was a half moon behind high clouds which gave enough light for travelling. They were halfway to the stone bridge and the crossing when Pelle saw three men beside the road. He stopped the wagon and alerted his companion who unsheathed his sword and picked up a crossbow from between his legs. Pelle followed this example and readied his own sword. He also strung his bow stave before he urged the horses forward again. He stopped the wagon twenty paces before the three men.

"Who goes there?" he called.

"Come closer first!" came the answer.

"My mother raised no fool," Pelle called back. "Name yourself and your purpose!"

"We're soldiers of the baron. Come now!"

Paulus laughed darkly.

"Your mother may not have raised a fool, but this lout's parents were not as careful. None of my Lord's men are out of the town tonight."

"We don't believe you," Pelle shouted. "Stand back, for I have my stout quarterstaff and I shall bash your heads good if you are brigands."

"Come, let's drag this fool off his wagon!" the leader of the three commanded, and they moved forward.

Pelle took a deep breath. In all his life, he had never shed a man's blood, but this was ending now. He put the first arrow on the string and sighted along while Paulus raised the crossbow.

"Now!" Paulus whispered, and the twang of the crossbow sounded through the night. Pelle let fly at the same moment. A twofold cry of pain was their reward.

Two of the men dropped to the ground, but the third stood undecided for a moment, long enough for Pelle to let fly the second arrow. At only ten paces, there was no way he could miss, and the third man dropped with a terrible oath. Quickly, Paulus jumped from the wagon seat and ran over. Three times, Pelle saw the sword blade flash in the moonlight as the soldier made sure of their opponents' death. Pelle saw him drag the bodies to the side and into a ditch, and then he returned with his crossbow bolt and two broad head arrow tips.

"Thought you might want those back," he whispered. "I knew one of them, belongs to the abbey's armsmen. The abbot is into foul play."

"One day, he'll show his hand, and I shall finally avenge my poor father," Pelle said through gritted teeth.

"I once knew a good girl in Tosdalen, a peasant's daughter, but as sweet as they come. That infernal abbot befouled her, and then he sent her off to some convent to silence her. He has more than your father to answer for."

"Paulus, you are a man after my heart," Pelle laughed grimly.

Paulus went back to collect the fallen men's weapons and their purses. They had gold ducats on them, blood money for sure, and Pelle and Paulus split the spoils evenly, although Pelle had shot two and Paulus only one. Pelle saw that the guardsman was pleased with this generosity. Pelle thought of his other passenger then.

"Rebecca, how are you faring?"

"I breathed enough coal for a life time," she whispered back.

"Free your head then, but be ready to cover it again should the need arise. We just killed three of the abbot's men who waylaid us."

"So I heard. Was any of you wounded?"

"Nay, gentle healer. Our friend's bow is quick and deathly," Paulus chuckled. "You use a yew stave, don't you?"

Pelle nodded in the dark. "Cost me two Groschen apiece, but with ring buster heads, you can shoot through chain mail."

"I heard once that the English have a whole army of archers," Paulus mused. "Damn crossbow takes too long to wind up between shots."

"Shall we wait here for the baroness to catch up? If there are ambushers on the road I should hate for them to go unwarned."

"Reeve, you have a good head. Let us wait here."

They drove the wagon behind a stand of hazelnut bushes to the side of the roadway and out of sight from either direction of the road. For a good hour, Pelle and Paulus kept a vigil, their weapons ready and their eyes and ears open. Then they heard the creaking axles of a wagon coming nearer. Their friends were not as cautious as Pelle would have wished, talking in loud voices and not even sending a vanguard ahead. Some of them carried burning torches. Paulus shook his head silently, but Pelle felt anger. When the wagon and horsemen were passing them, he stood tall on the wagon.

"Silence there!" he commanded sharply. The horsemen came to an abrupt stop and looked around, their swords drawn.

"That would be too late were I an enemy!" Pelle said coldly. "The enemy is lurking along the highway, and you don't even send out forward sentries? You babble and shout, how can you hear the enemy over your own noise? How can you see beyond the shine of your torches?"

"Reeve Pelle, is that you?" they heard the young baroness' voice.

"Yes, Lady. We decided to wait here, since we encountered armed men who tried to waylay us."

"What armed men?" one of the guards asked incredulously.

"Abbot's men, you fool!" Paulus answered gratingly. "Didn't our lord warn us of treason? Yet you trudge along this highway like blind and deaf fools."

"Pray, Reeve, what happened to those men?" the baroness asked with authority.

"We followed our lord's orders. They're dead," Pelle answered.

"Then, my Reeve, take charge and bring us to safety. There will be time for scolding come the morrow."

"Yes, Lady. Come now, you men, and douse those torches. You and you, ride ahead on either side of the roadway and keep eyes and ears open!"

The two men indicated trotted ahead while the rest formed a line on the road.

"Reeve Pelle, is Rebecca with you?"

"Yes, Lady, she's on my wagon and under the sacks."

"Let her sit with me then."

Rebecca flipped away the sack cloth. "Gracious Lady, I am covered in soot. I had better not sit with you."

Indeed, the weak moonlight showed Rebecca's blackened face and stained dress.

"Then sit with my driver," the baroness said.

Pelle helped Rebecca from the wagon and up onto the driver seat of the baroness' wagon. The cavalcade set into motion then heading for Lemdalen. They moved slowly through the night by necessity but come the morning, they reached Lemdalen. Gebhardt was on the wall when the wagons and riders drew near.

"Gebhardt, Friend, is everybody healthy?" Pelle shouted.

"Aye, Reeve, we have seen no illness yet. But who are those people?"

"Our gracious lady of Birkenhain, with ten more soldiers. Our lord charges us with her safety and well-being."

Gebhardt muttered something under his breath which Pelle could not understand, but his friend was less than happy over that additional responsibility. The gate swung open, though, and they rode into the village and along the alley that led to the manor house. Ingeburg was waiting outside, and before Pelle could dismount she was already at his side. Her emotions showed when she pressed herself against her husband.

"I was so afraid, Pelle!" she whispered into his ear while her held her. Then, letting go of him, she suddenly saw Lieselotte. "Why is Liese here?"

"Our Lord charged me with her safety in the troubled times that are ahead. I brought Rebecca too. I'm afraid that Levy will not abandon his house for anything, but at least he sent her to safety with me."

Ingeburg approached the wagon and greeted the young baroness formally. After all, they were within earshot of both the villagers and the soldiers.

"Welcome to Lemdalen, gracious Lady. Please, command over our humble dwelling."

With a wink, Lieselotte climbed from the coach and gave Ingeburg a ceremonial hug.

"My Sister," she said with dignity. "I thank you for your hospitality. Your brother sends his greetings."

"It is only just if we can return the friendship I enjoyed in Birkenhain," Ingeburg answered, not to be outdone.

Once inside the manor house, they hugged with feeling. Ingeburg quickly organised a sleeping chamber for their noble guest. In that, she was lucky since Pelle and Ingeburg had chosen a lesser sleeping chamber on the upper floor which had a view of the village. The larger chamber of the former reeves was readied for the baroness who found no fault with her accommodations.

Meanwhile, Pelle and Gebhardt organised the billeting of the additional soldiers. Sentry duties were assigned, and a patrol was formed to watch over the adjoining lands. Finally, a dog tired Pelle was able to return to his home for a belated noon meal. Rebecca sat at the table too, a little forlorn and a scarce meal of bread and butter in front of her. Pelle made a note to find proper food and cooking wares for their friend lest she had to violate her holy customs.

Pelle spent his brief afternoon walking the village wall with Gebhardt and talking to the villagers to find out about the state of things. The sowing had to be organised, and for that the men had to leave the village. Pelle called all the farmers to a meeting under the linden tree for the next morning to make rules for leaving and re-entering the village. For a few, brief moments he wished that he was a collier again, in his small clearing away from all the people, with just Ingeburg for his companion.

Nevertheless, the meeting on the next morning went well. Working together on the wall during the winter had closed the ranks of the villagers, and they felt pride over the done work. This made it easier to agree on the strict rules that Pelle announced: no contact nor trading with farmers from other villages or from the abbey lands, and no trips outside the fields and meadows that belonged to Lemdalen proper.

Returning to the manor, Pelle sat to noon meal with Ingeburg and his noble houseguest. Tjark and Luise sat with them, tongue-tied in the baroness' presence, but Ingeburg explained that Luise would be the best choice to serve Lieselotte as lady-in-waiting during her stay in Lemdalen for she had once been taught by Greta how to do this.

Rebecca was also shy to sit with them, but at least she had been able to identify the foods she was allowed to eat. Luise had gifted Rebecca a brand-new copper pot which the baron had gifted to her in turn when he made good on his promise after Margrite's trial. This made it possible for Rebecca to cook her own meals. Pelle gave Luise a grateful nod.

Margrite was working in the kitchen. She was heavy with child now, but she seemed to have lost her foul temper in recent months. Perhaps there was hope for her.

Her bane, Markward, had suffered a public caning and the baron had banned him from the lands on peril of death, but so far, Pelle had not been forced to enforce the ban. Helge had suffered worse punishment. The baron had him flogged with five score lashes, branded as thief, and driven from the lands for the triple crimes of befouling his own daughter, perverting the baron's justice, and withholding the lease for the use of the baron's land. It was unlikely that the man would ever show again. Pelle was glad that such crimes were not under his own rulings as he found such punishment sickening. Yet, such were the laws and the baron had little choice but to enforce them.



-------

Chapter 23: How Birkenhain is Lost and the Abbot Shows His Evil Hand


For the next two weeks, the life in Lemdalen was largely undisturbed. The young baroness settled in, and her friendship with Ingeburg tided her over the separation from the baron. She had indeed grown attached to him. He doted on her, and seeing his obvious pride over their son she almost forgot her guilt over the deceit of which she had been part. The little boy was prospering under her care, and she spent more time with him than would have been possible had she stayed at the castle in Birkenhain where nurses and maidservants took care of him. Here, Lieselotte performed many of the tasks herself, mostly alongside Ingeburg who took care of Ermegart.

Then, one morning during the ninth hour, a horseman approached the village coming from Birkenhain. Pelle was summoned, and he watched as the man rode up to the gate and dismounted. His horse looked the worse for wear, and it was bleeding from a wound on its neck. Pelle recognised the rider then. It was the master smith Tilke from the baron's forge. He limped when he approached the gate on foot, and Pelle saw a dark stain on the man's thigh.

"Tilke, friend, what happened?" Pelle called down.

"All is lost in Birkenhain!" the man shouted. "I came to give warning!"

Deciding quickly, Pelle had the gate opened and he slipped out.

"What happened?" he repeated himself.

"We had the first deaths from the plague a week ago," Tilke began. "One in the Proud Stag inn, and two more in the lower town, near Tanners' Alley. The baron ordered to have the dead pulled out of town and burnt near the gallows, and for the next two days everything was fine. A priest from the Abbey came though, and he preached that the Jews had poisoned the wells. When the baron heard of it he had the man brought to the gaol, but the rumours already started."

Tilke drew a deep breath.

"Next thing we knew, another priest starts spreading the rumour that our lord is in liege with the Jews and against the Holy Church. When the next three people became sick then, a mob formed in the town. They carried torches and marched on the Jew Alley. Somebody alerted the baron, and he rode into town with just three men of the guards. He was not even wearing his armour, just his sword. He used his fine charger to herd the mob away from the Jew Alley, but then somebody shot an arrow at him. He nearly fell off his horse, and they brought him back to the castle.

"His guardsmen did not dare to interfere until the old baroness sent them down, but then it was too late. Jew Alley was burning, and the mob stoned every man, woman or child who tried to escape the burning houses. It was horrible. One could hear the terrible cries of those trapped inside. Me and my apprentices, we broke through a wall from the rear, and we could get two families out, but that was all."

"Was Levy among them?"

"No, Pelle, we did not see him. His house was closest to where they started the fires, and nobody escaped from there."

"The baron, is he alive?"

"I heard that he was wounded badly. The old baroness is giving the orders, and she had the drawbridge pulled up. That's why I stole this horse and made my way out of town. Couldn't stay, not with the abbot's men searching the town for the loyal men of the baron."

"The abbot is showing his hand openly?" Pelle asked sharply.

"He is. He preached right before the burning houses in the Jew Alley, about the need to cleanse the town, and he said the castle must be taken next. He has a full score of his own armed men with him, lawless vermin, who went for the Red Cockerel first to rape and rob. Only two of the wenches made it out alive."

Pelle felt rage well up inside him. Those girls and women had always been kind to him. He swore to avenge them. But other things needed attention first. He squinted at the man. "Save for your leg, how do you feel?"

Puzzled, the smith shrugged. "I feel fine."

"Did you see any of those who died of the plague?"

"No, there weren't that many of them, and none in the forge."

"Look, we cannot let anybody inside the wall for three days, but see that house yonder? Make yourself at home there for three days, and when you feel healthy after that time we'll let you in."

"A wise measure, Reeve. What will you do?"

Pelle sighed. "I wish we could rush to the aid of the baron or his mother, but I have barely a score of men, and we must protect the baroness and her little son. I shall send for the count of Rennenberg and ask for his help."

There was no other choice for Pelle, not that he liked it. He had some bandages, salves and food brought to the gate which he gave the forge master who then made his way over to the deserted cabin to wait out his days of quarantine. Pelle then strode home and to his manor asking for the baroness to receive him. She did; everybody in the village already knew of the visitor and she was anxious to hear the tidings.

"Lady, I bring bad news. Our gracious lord was shot with an arrow when he opposed a violent mob in the town. They brought him back to the castle, but there is no knowing whether he is recovering. The Baroness Ermegart took charge and she had the castle closed. The abbot has shown his hand in the riot, for he is in Birkenhain with armed men of his own."

Pelle espied Rebecca. "Rebecca, I have the worst of news for you. Jew Alley was burnt down, and only a few could flee. I fear that your dear father perished in the flames."

The pain in Rebecca's eyes tore into Pelle's heart. Unable to speak, she just shook her head while tears ran down over her cheeks. It was the guardsman Paulus who suddenly stood at her side supporting her gently.

"I am a Christian, Maid Rebecca, but I feel with you in your sorrow," he said softly. "I know that you cannot feel for a man like me, but I shall avenge your father nonetheless. This is the second time that the abbot hurt somebody who is dear to me, and this time he will not escape my hand."

Pelle shook his head. "The revenge must be mine, now more than ever, for he conspired twice against my liege-lord to whom I swore fealty. We must be careful though and not rush headlong into our doom. Our first duty is the protection of the Lady Lieselotte and her son. That must come first. We are not enough men to retake Birkenhain. We need help. My Lady, I shall write on parchment an appeal for help to your father, the gracious lord of Rennenberg. Will you put your seal on it?"

With burning eyes, the young baroness nodded. "That I shall, and I shall denounce the foul abbot and lay the blame on him in full. Reeve, I fear that the abbot will be after us soon to extinguish the last scion of the House Birkenhain."

"Brave Paulus," Pelle addressed the guardsman, "I know of no better man than you to bring the message to Rennenberg. Will you do it for the baron, the Noble Lieselotte, and for Rebecca, so that the foul abbot will meet his deserved end?"

The man was conflicted, but he was smart enough to realise the importance of getting reinforcements. He nodded earnestly.

"If this is my duty, I shall bring the message or die in the trying."

"Nay, my friend, no dying!" Pelle exclaimed. "Be cunning and not brave, for we depend on your service as messenger. You can slay but only a few of the traitors, yet the Count with his men can wipe them out and restore our lord's rule."

Paulus nodded to that. "I shall keep this in my mind, Reeve," he said.

Pelle regarded the baroness again. "Lady, may I ask you to compose a message to your gracious father asking him for assistance and protection?"

Lieselotte hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded. "It is best. Even if my husband recovers quickly he will need the help to subdue the traitorous abbot."

Before the noon bell sounded over Lemdalen, Paulus was ready. Tjark volunteered to guide him through the forest to avoid any traps along the highway, and the two rode off without much fanfare. Meanwhile, Pelle assembled his armed men, but also those villagers who could man the walls.

"You men! Now is the hour of Lemdalen to uphold the rule of the House of Birkenhain! The abbot of Tosdalen is behind all the unrest in Birkenhain, and he was duly renounced by His Eminence, the Bishop of Rennenberg. He is no longer a holy man nor a priest, but a traitor against the Holy Church and our Lord Sigfrid. He will try to command you to give in to him. Stand fast against the traitor and heretic for he no longer speaks for the Holy Church. His men killed all the girls in the Red Cockerel. No quarter will be given to them, you hear!"

It was a bald-faced lie, about the bishop denouncing the abbot. Yet, it was the only way for Pelle to discredit his adversary. His last sentences about the slaughter in the Red Cockerel was even more effective, for the soldiers from Birkenhain reacted with fury. They had all frequented that brothel, and their thirst for revenge was great.

"Why cannot we march on Birkenhain, Reeve?" one of the guardsmen asked.

"The abbot has a score of armed men and the rabble of Birkenhain to support him. We count barely more than a score, and our duty is to shield the Lady and her infant son. Once the count of Rennenberg who is in liege with our lord will hear of the events, he will send his soldiers to protect his daughter, and then we will move on the traitors. For now, we need to be alert. Let us send out sentries along the road to Birkenhain, but also towards Tosdalen. To be forewarned means to be forearmed. Gebhardt, you pick reliable men for sentry duty!"

°°°

Pelle broke his fast with Ingeburg and the baroness. All through the morning he saw to it that the volunteers of Lemdalen received some weapons practice. The two smiths had been busy forging lance points and arrowheads, and now the villagers learnt to make and use longbows. No dried yew staffs were available, but ash saplings were found yielding longbows with not quite the power but serviceable enough for beginners.

The Lady Lieselotte showed herself to the villagers and the soldiers in the afternoon giving them encouragement and also supporting Pelle. She, too, pointed out the abbot as the archenemy to be destroyed.

By nightfall, one of their sentries returned from his post overseeing the highway reporting that an armed band was approaching from Birkenhain. Questioned, the sentry reported that he had seen more than a full score of men, with half of them wearing the well-known tunics of the abbey's armsmen and the other half consisting of townspeople. The abbot was not with them, but the former reeve Markward was leading them.

Pelle set his jaw at this news. Markward was banned from the lands on peril of death, and it was Pelle's duty to enforce that ban. More so, if Markward ever took Lemdalen, Ingeburg would fall prey to the man, something Pelle would never suffer as long as their was a breath in his chest.

Pelle suspected that they would attack Lemdalen with the first light. They could not be aware of the numbers of soldiers under Pelle's command, or they would not have marched in the first place. He arranged for his soldiers to sleep early while selected villagers performed the sentry duties. Only when the first signs of light showed in the East did Gebhardt rouse his men. Hot drinks were ready by then, and when dawn set in, the rested and sated men manned the wall.

They did not have to wait for long. The clinking of armour could be heard from the direction of the highway, and then a shadowy mass of men moved forward, heading for the main gate. Pelle could spot the former reeve Markward in the lead and he pointed him out to Tjark. Together, they trained their longbows at the villain. As agreed, Gebhardt then hailed the approaching mob.

"Who goes there, friend or foe?"

"Open the gate! Orders by His Holy Eminence the Abbot of Tosdalen! Yield and open your gates!"

"By orders given to me by My Noble Lady and by the Reeve of Lemdalen, I command you to lay down your weapons and surrender!" Gebhardt hailed back.

"That dog will be fed to the hogs!" Markward sneered. "The House of Birkenhain is gone, and the good abbot of Tosdalen rules the lands."

Pelle nodded to his brother in law. "Let fly, Tjark, and aim your arrow truly!"

He sighted carefully and let fly. At his side, he heard the twang of Tjark's bow. They were rewarded by a gurgled oath from Markward. In the increasing light they saw an arrow stuck in the man's neck while a second shaft protruded from his abdomen. A second arrow was already on Pelle's string and he let fly again. The cursing stopped when the iron tip of Pelle's second arrow broke through Markward's chain mail hauberk and pierced his traitorous heart.

"This is how we punish traitors!" Pelle yelled. "He was banned from Birkenhain lands on peril of death. I, Pelle, the rightful reeve of Lemdalen, command you to yield or suffer death!"

The attackers hesitated. Some of them seemed of a mind to turn and run, others seemed intent on charging the gate and wall. Pelle took a deep breath and nodded to Gebhardt. A heartbeat later, the twang of a dozen crossbows mixed with the sounds of two dozen longbows being shot, and a hail of bolts and arrows descended on the would-be attackers. A good half of them sank to the ground, some screaming and some already quiet. Of those remaining, the abbot's men being clad in armour were in the majority, and they charged the village gate.

Pelle and Tjark let fly two more arrows each, but then the attackers were upon the gate. They had no ladders, but the wall was not too high for a man standing on the shoulders of his comrade, and this is was the abbot's men tried. With a devilish grin, Gebhardt blew his horn, and a half dozen of his men rushed the attackers from a hideout outside the village wall. Encumbered by those standing on their shoulders, the bottom men stood no chance and were skewered on the pikes of the attackers. Tumbling down when their supporters were killed, the upper men fell heavily to the ground. Two of them threw away their weapons in time, but four more were stabbed to death.

As was their custom, the soldiers first looted the vanquished and dead, but Pelle and Tjark set out to hunt down two townsmen who had turned their heels in time. One of the fleeing men being wounded in his leg, they caught up with them after a half mile. Pelle was in no mood to give quarter, but Tjark asked to accept their surrender. They were bound and marched back to the village.

The mood in Lemdalen was festive. They had won an easy victory. Soldiers bragged about their archery and the villagers could not stop to praise their stout wall and gate. Pelle and Gebhardt conferred and decided to put a damper on spirits. Nobody could know if more of the abbot's followers were on their way, and the least they could afford was a full-blown drunken celebration.

Work parties were detached to drag the bodies of the fallen to fringe of the forest where a pit was dug. Arrows and bolts were recovered and repaired, and only when all the work was done, a large keg of ale was tapped.

The Lady Lieselotte then appeared before soldiers and villagers and praised their brave and loyal conduct. Inside, she was in deep despair. She had heard the words of the former reeve in which he had claimed that the house of Birkenhain was lost. Did that mean her husband was dead? Did that mean that the castle had fallen? The magnitude of her new responsibility became clear to her, and it took all her willpower to project calm confidence to her men.

Meanwhile the four prisoners were questioned in Tymo's smithy. The sight of a red-glowing iron sufficed to open their mouths, and for the first time in days the loyal forces received reliable information about the situation in Birkenhain.

Jew Alley was in smoking ruins, but the fire had spread from there, and now half of Birkenhain was burnt. The archdeacon had been murdered by the abbot's men, but the abbot had not reached his main goals. The castle still stood, and the old baroness defied the demands for surrender, claiming she would never let her grandson fall into the abbot's hands. It became clear that the traitors had no idea of Lieselotte's whereabouts and still thought her in the castle. That explained the small force of men sent to take Lemdalen!

The forge, the source of Birkenhain's wealth, was burnt down too. The labourers had fled the town, and many loyal people had followed them. No gold was found in the smouldering ruins of Jew Alley adding to the mob's displeasure. At the smallest provocation, the mob now fought among themselves, and it was said that the abbot contemplated to return to Tosdalen after having achieved nothing and with the number of men under his command waning with each day.

Pelle was sorely tempted to strike at Tosdalen Abbey, to cut off the traitorous abbot from his base, but his duty was to protect Lieselotte and her child. Perhaps he could send out Paulus once he returned to lie in ambush on the high road from Birkenhain to Tosdalen.

That evening, Pelle went the rounds to impress on the sentries the urgent necessity to stay awake. Their victory would count nought if the enemy caught them in deep sleep during the night. Pelle made sure that everybody understood that the abbot and his men would take cruel revenge on the village and the baron's soldiers should they ever succeed in taking Lemdalen.

Once Pelle turned in, it was night already, and Ingeburg had retired to their bedroom. Pelle's body ached from the exertions of the last days, and he wanted nothing but to climb the stairs and drop on their bed. He had to force himself to wash off the iron dust, rust and soot of his armour and helmet before he retired to the upper floor. In their bedroom, a tallow light was still burning, and Pelle could see two heads on the big down pillow.

"Liese is quite distraught," Ingeburg whispered. "I took her in to give her some solace."

"Should I sleep in... ?" Pelle began.

"No, just come in. I need your embrace, Pelle."

Thus, Pelle climbed into the bed on the far side of Lieselotte and pressed himself against her back. She sighed contentedly, but then she had something on her mind.

"Pelle, what if my brother perished? What will become of us?"

Pelle had discussed this with Gebhardt.

"Lodewig is the heir to title and land, and Lieselotte will be the regent in his stead until he will reach manhood. I hope that her father, the count, will aid her in this."

"No news yet from Rennenberg?"

"No, but we should get word soon."

"What if no help comes forth?"

"Then we shall engage in a brigand's warfare against the abbot. Nighttime raids, attacking his men outside Birkenhain, even strike at his abbey. Do not forget this: I have blood feud against the abbot. He had my father and my good friend Levy killed, and he betrayed my liege lord."

"But Pelle, whatever will become of us if you perish?"

"I shall have to see you and Lieselotte to safety first. I have plenty of gold for you and Ermi to live well. Let us not delve into this too deeply. The count will come to our aid."

"Let us hope for it," Ingeburg agreed. "Pelle, I know you are tired after a night and day without sleep and rest. Still, could you affirm our bond?"

Pelle swallowed. "And Liese?" he whispered back.

Ingeburg just shrugged. "It would be nothing new for her, even if she woke up. Please?"

The warmth of her body and the prospect of her velvety softness around his member were already enough to arouse him in spite of his tiredness. The fight on the morning had whetted his desire too. With barely suppressed urgency he pulled up the hem of Ingeburg's shift and let his left hand roam over her firm backside. His probing fingers next wiggled between her legs, to explore her centre, and he found her moist with desire.

Pressing against her from behind, he wedged his member between her thighs and upwards to her opening. Only a deep sigh escaped her lips when the bulbous head found purchase and pried her nether lips open. Pelle penetrated deeply and exhaled.

"Yesss!" Ingeburg hissed almost inaudibly.

The crowded bed and their sleeping companion made for a restrained coupling, but the act was infinitely reassuring to Ingeburg and Pelle. There was no moaning on Ingeburg's part, no grunts from Pelle, just deep, satisfied sighs as he pumped into her slowly and steadily. Ingeburg felt hot and almost molten around his member, and he knew that he would not last long.

The bedstead was rocking ever so lightly, a motion that echoed his gentle thrusts into Ingeburg's core. Suddenly, there was movement in the dark on Ingeburg's other side. Pelle almost jumped out of his skin when soft fingers touched his own hand that cupped Ingeburg's breast. The fingers moved on, and Ingeburg's sighs intensified. Then a hand touched the shaft of his member as it sawed in and out of Ingeburg's love opening, and gentle fingers played with his nuts. No longer was it just Ingeburg and Pelle who sighed in the rhythm of their coupling, but a third mouth made mewling sounds.

"Liese!" Ingeburg gasped when the straying hand left Pelle's member and rubbed her own pleasure centre.

Her canal contracted around Pelle's sawing member, and the friction became too much. With barely suppressed groans Pelle penetrated deeply while his loins pulsated and his seed shot forth into Ingeburg's womb. Ingeburg moaned deep in her throat and she shuddered in the throes of her lustful peak.

"Nnnngh! Nnnngh! Aaaoooouunn!" Lieselotte moaned from behind Ingeburg, and Pelle realised that she must have given herself pleasure.

They lay quiet for a few moments then, catching their breath and gathering their wits.

"Did we wake you?" Ingeburg asked softly.

Pelle could feel the vibration as Lieselotte shook her head.

"No, I was awake ever since Pelle joined us. I did not want you to forego your love, but then I could not help myself. I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Ingeburg whispered back. "Come! Turn and press against my front! Let us sleep closely."

And thus, the three young people spent the night in a close embrace, with Ingeburg being the centre. Pelle woke with the rooster's crowing, and he found his hand on Ingeburg's tummy, with Lieselotte's hand covering it. She, too, was awake and looking at him in the dim light of the dawn.

"Forgive my intrusion, Pelle," she mouthed, barely audible. "I cannot help my need to be near Ingeburg."

Pelle gave her a nod. "'tis nothing to forgive. We need our good friends in bad times."

She reached out and touched his face. "I may be a widow by now. Will you shelter me and give me comfort in the years to come? Will you allow Ingeburg to give me comfort? I cannot marry again. I must protect my son. Can I count on you, Pelle, Reeve of Lemdalen?"

Pelle nodded. "Aye, that you can, for as much as a simple collier can help you."

Lieselotte shook her head. "How did all this happen? The world was turned on its head, and I am fearful of the future. You and Inge are in whom I trust. I have none other."

"We shall stand at your side, Lady," Pelle said earnestly.

"Nay, my gentle bedfellow, leave off the "lady" henceforth when we are lying thusly. Call me Liese, as Ingeburg does."

"Lady, please be prudent! Never must anybody suspect that we have known each other. I could call you by your name when we lie like this, but soon you will return to Birkenhain again, to join our Lord Sigfrid. What if I speak your name by accident then?"

"Do you think he may still be alive?"

"I have no reason to believe him dead. Time will tell. Would that your father will arrive soon!"

"Yes, the uncertainty is the worst. You are a good man, Pelle. May I call you "Brother" then? You are my sister's husband, after all."

"It would honour me beyond my merits," Pelle replied.

"This is where we disagree," Lieselotte smiled back touching his cheek once more.

°°°

For the next week, they heard nothing from Birkenhain and nothing from Rennenberg. Sunday came and went, and a measure of normalcy returned to the village. Pelle and Gebhardt sent out patrols thrice daily to scout the surroundings for enemies, but they always returned having encountered nobody.

That changed on the Wednesday next. By noon, a horn sounded from the eastern approaches, and soldiers and peasants hastily manned the walls. A large body of riders was approaching, their armour gleaming in the sunlight and coloured pennants flying from their lances. Pelle's keen eyes saw that these were regular feudal soldiers, and Gebhardt confirmed this.

"Rennenberg colours, Friend!" he exclaimed.

"Let us still be vigilant," Pelle answered, willing away the relief he felt. They had no way of knowing the state of things in Rennenberg. Soon however, they saw a rider ahead of the large body of men galloping towards the gate. Pelle recognised Paulus, and now he really heaved a sigh of relief. The count had come to the rescue of his daughter.

"Holla! It's me, Paulus!" the brave man shouted when he dismounted in front of the gate.

"Paulus! Come and give us tidings!" Pelle shouted back. "Open the gate for Paulus!"

A few moments later, Pelle and the guardsman had their hands locked in greeting.

"I bring good news! The noble count of Rennenberg is coming at the head of five score riders. Rennenberg is free of the plague, with only twenty and one having died of it. The last died a week before, and His Grace now deemed it the time to come to the rescue."

"Well thought by His Grace," Pelle nodded. "Lemdalen has not seen the plague, but we fought back an attack a week ago. The former reeve, Markward, met his deserved end and ten of the abbot's men with him. Will His Grace visit Lemdalen?"

"He wishes to meet his daughter and his grandson, but he plans to move on Birkenhain without delay afore the traitors receive tidings of his approach."

Pelle looked around. "I have to host him."

°°°

The count had a bit more grey in his beard, but he looked healthy and hale. He shook Pelle's hand in greeting once he dismounted.

"Greetings, Reeve! You shielded my daughter?"

"Aye, your Grace! She is well, albeit worried about her husband, my Lord Sigfrid."

"And the boy?"

"He is well and growing. Will you grace my table for a meal, Lord?"

"I should stand a few bites to eat, but we shall move on towards Birkenhain ere the noon bell sounds. His Eminence, the bishop, has stripped the abbot of Tosdalen of all his offices and has excommunicated him for violating the Papal edicts. The traitor is bird-free for now!"

Pelle balled his fists. "Bird-free" meant that any man could kill the abbot with impunity.

"Your Grace, will you grant me my fervent wish to ride with you? My father's ash is speaking to my heart, urging me to exact revenge on the vile abbot."

The count nodded slowly. "I can use your presence, for more reasons than your revenge. You may be the last remaining vassal of the house of Birkenhain. Can you ride within the hour?"

"Yes, your Grace! I shall task Gebhardt with the protection of Lemdalen."

"Ready yourself then, Reeve, while I shall see my daughter and her son."

Pelle led his visitor into the manor house to be greeted by Lieselotte before he hastened to his armoury. In grim silence Pelle dressed in the padded tunic over which he put on the leather and steel brigandine. The black and yellow mantle with Birkenhain's coat-of-arms came next before he closed the belt around his hips, from which his sword hang. A well filled quiver went over his right shoulder, and he picked up his favourite bow stave. A chain mail hood and a helmet would complete his armour.

Away from the visitors he gave Ingeburg a long farewell kiss. She held on to him for a few moments before she stood back.

"Please, above all, come back to us!" she implored him. "I believe I may be with child again, and we will need you."

His heart melted, and he hugged her tightly again. "I shall be back. Never worry. I ride with the count and his men, and the abbot with his rabble will melt away before our swords."

"Beware of his falseness, Pelle. He had your father killed. Let him not kill you too."

Pelle nodded solemnly. "You are right, sweet Ingeburg. I shall be wary of him."



-------

Chapter 24: How Justice is Served In Birkenhain Lands


Riding a few paces behind the Count of Rennenberg, Pelle had some time at his hand to reflect on the last hour. The Count had left a score of men in Lemdalen as guard for his daughter and grandson, allowing Pelle to bring a half score of Birkenhain's soldiers. Pelle was wearing the coat of arms of the House of Birkenhain, thus giving any actions of the count legitimacy.

The forge master Tilke was also riding with them, for he claimed to know a hidden sally port near the forge. The plan was to ride for the gates with the main force while a group of men under Tilke would head for that sally port.

It was shortly after noon, but they had not heard the noon bell from Birkenhain. Even when they drew closer, there was no sign of life. A large part of the town was reduced to blackened ruins where Jew Alley had been burnt down, but also the crowded area around it where the craftsmen and Christian merchants had plied their trades. The riders crossed the dry moat unopposed and rode up the wide main street towards the castle. No man was seen in the streets, but they could see rotting corpses in the side alleys, and the air was heavy with the smell of death.

Approaching the castle proper, they could see that the gate was closed, yet no sentry hailed them. Pelle had a sinking feeling when he stood in his stirrups and shouted.

"'tis I, Pelle, Reeve of Lemdalen! Open the gate! His Grace, the Count of Rennenberg demands entry!"

They could hear movement, and slowly the gate opened. Pelle recognised one of the gatekeepers.

"Saints be blessed!" the man exclaimed. "I had lost all hope."

"What of our Lord Sigfrid and the Noble Ermegart?" Pelle asked sharply.

The man sadly shook his head. "Our lord perished from the wounds he received when he rode out to save Jew Alley. Th'baroness watched over him to his death and had him buried in the chapel, but a week after she died of the plague. Much like ever'body else, 'cept me an' a handful of men an' wenches. We locked ourselves in the gate tower for a week, and we're 'bout the only folks what survived."

"How did the plague spread in the castle when the gate was closed?" Pelle queried, feeling a deep worry.

"A few of th' men went out into th' town at night to bring in theirs families. Inside three days people started dying, inside and outside th' castle."

"Where did the traitors go?"

"I saw them leave for Tosdalen this same morn', what was left of'em anyways, after th' accursed plague took its toll on'em. A dozen men, not more, the abbot with'em, may he rot in hell!"

The count looked at Pelle.

"Reeve, I shall lead my men to the abbey this hour! I don't want that traitor to escape. Are you with us?"

Pelle nodded grimly and gave orders to his soldiers while the count also had his men leave the town. They were not even allowed to water their horses for fear of contracting the dreaded plague. The men were shocked as Pelle could sense. Their comrades and friends were all dead now, the town was in ruins, and they felt uprooted. As their horses trotted along the road, Pelle raised his voice.

"We all serve the noble Lady Lieselotte now, and our dear lord's infant son, Lodewig. The accursed former abbot bears the blame for the unrest that caused the plague to spread. We shall hunt him down, and a traitor's end awaits him!"

Pelle saw grim nods and heard muttered curses against the abbot. Paulus raised his sword over his head.

"Death to the traitors of our good Lord Sigfrid! Long live our Lord Lodewig! Long live the Lady Lieselotte!"

The Birkenhain men answered as one: "Death to the traitors! Hail our Lord!"

Paulus brought his horse alongside Pelle's. "Reeve, we're not really bringing in that fat shit as prisoner, are we?"

Pelle gave a grim laugh. "And give him a chance to weasel himself out? Never, this side of hell!"

"I have a length of rope with me," Paulus said through gritted teeth. "I have a mind to see how long his fat neck can be stretched."

Pelle kept his voice low. "We must see to it that he's killed during fighting. Defrocked or not, he has powerful friends."

It was late in the afternoon when the rich abbey of Tosdalen came in sight. They could see that the plague had ravaged the surrounding land. Nevertheless, getting nearer they saw activity inside the abbey – wagons were loaded and horses saddled. Monks and armed men were running to and fro, their arms loaded with bales and chests. The count bade his men halt.

"The abbot is fleeing," he said to his captain and to Pelle. "Reeve, take your men and move to the left. Block the road to Lemdalen. Captain, take a score men and keep to the right. Both of you: the abbot is very rich. Captured alive he may bribe his neck out of the noose. It were best if he met his end in a fight."

Pelle nodded grimly. "My father's ash is speaking to me. I shall do your pleasure."

"Brave man! Now hurry!"

With his half score of soldiers, Pelle hurried westward aiming to circle the abbey compound and cut off any escape towards Lemdalen. The count in the meantime moved forward at a brisk trot heading for the main gate of the abbey. Shouts and cries could be heard from the abbey, and then a score and a half of riders broke from the gate to oppose the approaching soldiers.

Still hurrying to reach his position, Pelle could see how the count's captain came to his lord's help, catching the abbey's armsmen in their flank. The clash lasted but for a short time only. Too many were the count's soldiers, and too well armed and trained were they for the ragtag defenders.

"Look, Reeve!" Paulus cried. "Someone's escaping from that sally port yonder!"

"It's the abbot!" Pelle snarled spurring his horse into a gallop.

Paulus stayed at Pelle's side, and the rest of the Birkenhain soldiers followed as best they could. Only two or three men were accompanying the abbot, and they were leading four heavily laden pack horses. Pelle smiled grimly. The abbot's greed was his undoing.

The fleeing traitor espied Pelle and his men and urged his own horse into a gallop. Pelle barked a grim laugh. Given the man's girth and weight, there was no horse on earth that could carry him to safety. Already, Pelle was gaining while Paulus whose horse was of a lesser breed fell behind. Behind them, Pelle heard the clash of weapons as the Birkenhain soldiers overwhelmed the abbot's companions with their pack horses. Pelle was not aiming for loot, however. His long-awaited revenge was near, and he would let nothing distract him.

He was gaining steadily on the abbot whose horse was a magnificent animal but woefully overmatched with the weight of its rider. Already, it stumbled repeatedly in the deep ruts that marked the road to Lemdalen.

Pelle even held back a little to ease things for his fine charger, but still he gained one horse length after the other. The abbot had to hear him now, only a hundred yards behind, and he cast a brief, fearful look over his shoulder. His horse chose this moment to stumble yet again, and its unprepared rider was almost thrown, hanging to the right and clinging to the saddle horn for his dear life. The animal, almost free of its burden then came to a stop, and the abbot gained footing. He looked about in panic.

There was a woodcutter's shelter not twenty yards away at the side of the road, and the frightened abbot waddled for that perceived safety with the remainder of his breath and strength. Pelle had not strung his bow yet, and he came too late as the abbot slammed the door shut just as Pelle jumped from the saddle. He heard the latch being worked from within, and his frown changed into a grim smile as he regarded the cabin.

It was a sturdy cabin, made of pine wood and less than twenty years old. The roof was thatched, and the only window was high up and small. The abbot was trapped. Slowly, Pelle walked back to his horse and retrieved flint and tinder from the saddle bag. With it, he approached the cabin.

Without a word he squatted down and gathered dry twigs around the tinder. With an oft-practised movement he struck the flint with his knife blade and drew a hot spark. It missed the tinder, but the next spark landed amidst the tinder causing a glow. Pelle bent low and blew the flame to life.

Hearing hoofbeat he looked up. It was Paulus. "He's in there?" he asked sounding winded.

Pelle nodded silently, adding twigs to the flame to feed the small fire. He nodded to himself then and added larger twigs and dry wood. Paulus looked at him.

"You'll smoke him out?"

Pelle shook his head. "Twenty and seven men he had burned for heresy at Tosdalen. Their ashes are calling out to me to revisit their pain on him. He can burn but once, but burn he will."

Paulus stared at Pelle for a brief moment, but then he went for his horse and retrieved an earthen bottle.

"The farmer Jeckel makes a hellish Korn (rye liquor). He claims that it helps against vermin. Let's find out!"

With that, Paulus smashed the bottle against the door of the cabin, drenching the wood in the clear liquor. With a grim smile, Pelle held a burning branch to the wood, and a blueish flame danced up along the wooden planks.

Inside, a shriek sounded. "Oh, ye saints! Have mercy on my wretched mortal soul! Brave Reeve, ye'll not burn a man alive? Ye'll not load murder on your soul? Please! I have plenty of gold. I can pay you!"

"Take your accursed gold to hell!" Pelle snarled. "My father's ash cries to me and the ashes of the many men you had burnt!"

"Nay, I repent! I did it not to enrich myself, but for the greater ... Nay, mercy! <cough> Reeve, I plead to you! Do not let me die in the flames! Kill me first! I cannot stand pain!"

Pelle slowly stepped back from the already blazing front of the cabin. Cries and coughing could be heard for a little while longer, but the abbot's voice faded long before the fire fully engulfed the structure. The two men watched the fire in grim silence until it died out long after darkness fell.

"It's over, Reeve," Paulus finally said. "Your father is avenged and so are your friend Levy and my girl Erena. Let us return to Tosdalen now and report to the count."

It took them almost two hours in the dark to reach the abbey. The count was still awake and about. Seeing a drawn and pale Pelle, he had the abbey's cowed cellarer bring a large stein of lager beer which Pelle drained in a few draughts.

"Speak, Reeve! Did you catch the traitor and heretic?"

For a moment, Pelle was unable to speak exhausted and drained as he was. Paulus spoke up in hi stead.

"Your Grace, if I may: we caught up with the former abbot near a woodcutter's cabin, and he locked himself in. We were still trying to break in when suddenly a fire broke out inside the cabin. He must have knocked over a burning tallow light, for the fire spread quickly, and much as we tried we could not break the door open."

"Is that so, Reeve?"

Pelle just nodded mutely feeling thoroughly drained.

"Well then, bravely done, both of you. Too bad we could not bring him before the Bishop, but His Eminence will doubtlessly console himself seeing that his own nephew may now accede to the priorship."

"Yes, your Grace," Pelle was finally able to say.

"My good Reeve, you look entirely worn out. Rest now, for tomorrow there will be more to do."

Pelle forced his brain to work. "Your Grace, we must to return to Birkenhain, to look after castle and town."

The count shook his head. "Not for now, not for some time. There are those who survive the plague, and it is said that they will not fall to it again in their lifetime. Let us find such men and women to send them into Birkenhain for the grim task of removing the dead. For now, let us stay in secure Lemdalen. We shall have the charter of this abbey revoked and made it part of the Lemdalen bailiwick. No monk will meddle with my daughter's rule in the future. The new prior will have to see to his church and his friars, but the lands will be Birkenhain's again."

Pelle woke even more from his stupor hearing that. The reeveship of Lemdalen would be a coveted position.

"Your Grace, will you place a man of your trust as reeve?"

The count laughed. "Aye, but I need not place him. He's already there. Reeve, you have proven yourself in these desperate times. My daughter trusts you and your wife. The poor Sigfrid picked you well. Continue your good service to my daughter and her infant son in the trying times ahead. I shall find her a good captain for the guard, but you will be her first vassal."

"Your Grace, I was a mere collier only two summers ago."

"The more astounding is the true and loyal service you rendered. Rest now, Reeve."

Pelle rested, but he found little sleep. The day had confronted him with devastating news and events, tossing the little, well ordered Birkenhain lands into utter turmoil. Birkenhain as the centre of their little corner of the world had ceased to exist for all practical purposes. There were no merchants in the town, no craftsmen, no taverns. No money lenders either, and no Red Cockerel, he added grimly. Everything good about the town had been extinguished in three weeks of raging madness.

On the other hand, his long dormant thirst for revenge had finally been slaked in the blazing flames of the woodcutter's cabin. The lands were free of the threat by the abbot, and he had been able to save some of his dearest friends. Somehow, they would have to start life again in the lands, reawaken the crafts and commerce. It was a daunting task for a young man who had spent most of his life building wood piles in the middle of Lemdalen forest. Yet, the count was right. He, Pelle, was the only choice. In all likelihood, the ravages of the plague had left the neighbouring lands in the same dire situation and with the same shortage of able men and women.

Pondering the question who to appoint to the numerous functions Pelle finally fell asleep. When he woke, the sun was high and he felt immeasurably refreshed. His clothes smelt of wood fire and he smirked briefly remembering the fiery end of the abbot.

Out of the monastery cell where he had slept he found the table set and the count breaking his fast.

"Come sit, Reeve! Let us plan the day!" the count invited him.

Pelle was not daunted anymore by the presence of the count, and he sat and ate with surprising appetite.

"I would suggest that we return to Lemdalen and plan the next steps with my daughter. She is, after all, the new lady of the lands."

"Your Grace, what is your mind with regards to Birkenhain. The Lady Lieselotte needs a stronghold to protect and raise her son."

The count stroked his beard before he answered.

"We'll see to it that the dead are removed and burnt before the castle can be cleaned. For the time being I'll advise my daughter to stay in Lemdalen. She is safer with you and your wife, and she will also find the support and comfort she will doubtlessly need. Nevertheless, you had better plan to enlarge that manor house and add to the walls that surround it.

"Lemdalen came through the plague unscathed, my friend. Your fields are still tilled, your peasants are healthy and hale, you have craftsmen. Lemdalen will become important for the lands, and its reeve will be a strong voice in my daughter's council. I shall find a good man to oversee the clean-up in Birkenhain and to act as my daughter's schultheiss. Until then, I entrust her to your loyal service and protection."

Pelle nodded seriously. "I thank your Grace for the trust shown. So you wish for me to hold on to Lemdalen and keep it safe and prosperous for my lady?"

"In essence, yes. Of course, it will be for my daughter to decide on the future appointments in her service. Yet, the way I see it, you will be best placed in Lemdalen where you know the people and the people know and respect you."

This was something with which Pelle could live. He was not eager to live in Birkenhain, and not eager to lead the clean-up of the pestilent town. He would sit pretty in Lemdalen and see to it that the village would prosper. He hoped that Lieselotte would see it this way too.



-------

Chapter 25: How Pelle Must Serve the Lady of the Lands


Father Ortwinus was leading the final prayer of the Holy Mass on this Sunday. Murmuring along with the other believers, Pelle let his thoughts meander. In the front pew sat Lieselotte in her black widow's clothing, her face hidden behind a black veil and holding her infant son tightly. At her side sat the count following the proceedings with a grim look on his strong features. This was the memorial mass for Sigfrid of Birkenhain and the Noble Ermegart, and the village church was packed to the last pew.

The last days had been a whirlwind of activity for Pelle and with the count as guest in the reeve's manor, Ingeburg had been just as busy. More lay ahead, and Pelle was honestly grateful for this enforced day of resting. His thoughts flew ahead to the next day's tasks. Already, survivors from Birkenhain trickled in, hoping for food and protection. Pelle had them quarantined under strict control before they were allowed inside Lemdalen's walls. Their clothes were smoked and then soaked in lye befo they were allowed into the village.

Most importantly, the survivors were questioned sharply as to who had been involved in the schemes of the abbot. Already, two men were awaiting their trial for their role in the burning of Jew Alley. Four surviving abbey soldiers would also stand trial for the mayhem in the Red Cockerel. Pelle was determined to weed out those who had laden guilt on their heads.

Finally, Ortwinus closed the prayer and gave them the blessing. It was time to file out of the church, past the many who had not found seating inside. Pelle and Ingeburg walked behind Lieselotte and her father, a position they would hold for some time to come. Once again, Ingeburg was lady-in-waiting for her friend, and Pelle was the sole surviving vassal. They walked the short distance to the manor where the noon meal was already waiting for them.

It was crowded in the manor hall, and the meal was frugal of necessity. The food stores in Lemdalen were limited, and with fugitives and survivors coming in there would be shortages. Pelle and the count had agreed to give a good example, even though the contents of Tosdalen's cellars were being transferred to Lemdalen to augment the stores. At least they were not lacking in ale and spirited drink.

The mood was subdued of course as Birkenhain was mourning the Lord Sigfrid. Solemn toasts were drunk to his memory and to the health of his lone heir. Lieselotte kept quiet all through the meal, being very much aware of the responsibility that rested on her slim shoulders. Towards the end of the meal, she rose from her chair, however to address her vassals and retainers.

"My dear father, trusted Reeve, dearest Ingeburg, brave soldiers and loyal men of Lemdalen: the Lord has seen fit to task me with the rule the lands for my son. I am unprepared for that, yet with the help from my father and the loyal service from you, I shall make it my noblest goal to restore prosperity and peace to my son's lands. The first effort will be to clean up and rebuild Birkenhain. That will take time, and I therefore grant Lemdalen town rights from this day onward, to reward its people for their loyalty to my house." She took a deep breath. "The reeveship for Lemdalen will be vacated, and the former reeve Pelle will be the hereditary schultheiss for the new town of Lemdalen. I shall rule the lands from Lemdalen Manor until Birkenhain can be a fit and safe home for me and my son."

-------

It was a month later, and the Count of Rennenberg had finally decided that his presence was not needed anymore. He had left one of his own lieu-tenants, Hartwicus, with a score of men to form the new guard of Birkenhain. Lieselotte had appointed the man as her new Captain, and Gebhardt had risen to lieu-tenant. With two score soldiers and the armed people of the new town, Lemdalen would be well defended if the need would arise.

Life in Lemdalen had normalised considerably. The plague had left the lands and spared Lemdalen, and the peasants were busy in the fields to bring in the harvest. Fortunately, the weather had favoured the crops, and the harvest would be good.

Already, over a score of men who had found refuge in Lemdalen were working on the improvement of the town wall. The wall would be increased by a full klafter with battlements added. Pelle also oversaw the additions to the manor house. A large, round tower was being built, and the upper floor would be rebuilt in masonry. The town wall would be enlarged to enclose the manor house at a distance of thirty feet to create a walled courtyard. The dry moat would be deepened to over two klafter depth. All this would take time, but once the peasants and freeholders had their harvest in, there would be more men to help with the effort.

Tjark and Matthias had returned to the clearing in Lemdalen Forest to resume their work. There had been some worries since the Birkenhain forge did not exist anymore as a customer. However, the forge master Tilke came up with the idea to salvage tools and implements from the destroyed forge and build a new one in Lemdalen forest. Since the forge had been on the fringe of Birkenhain, they could safely gather what was left of the tools and Tilke was already busy to erect a structure that would house forge and smiths.

A new abbot had arrived at Tosdalen. The Abbot Anselmus was only a few years Pelle's senior, a good-looking man with a pleasant voice who expressed his wish for friendly ties with Lemdalen. The redrawn charter of the abbey placed it under Birkenhain rule again, but Anselmus admitted that he was not too keen to lord it over the peasants. His uncle, the bishop, had tasked him to return the abbey to being a place of worship and servitude to God. Pelle hoped that this new modesty would keep.

Pelle's own tasks had multiplied. The reeve's manor was bursting at its seams with all the visitors coming and going. He had to organise the cleaning of Birkenhain too. In that he was lucky as it turned out that the family of Easterners who had helped out Tjark claimed that they had survived the plague two years before. Against the promise of a rich reward, the four men set out for Birkenhain. A huge pit had been dug outside the city, and the men wore wet face masks against the stench when searching the houses of Birkenhain to drag out the carcasses and dispose of them in the large pit.

Reckoning that the burnt-out section of Birkenhain was safe, those survivors who returned were given the task to clear the charred rabble. A separate pit was dug where the charred bodies found in the ruins of Jew Alley were laid to rest.

Every week, Pelle spent a day near Birkenhain to oversee the clean-up. He was leery to enter the town, but there was one task that needed to be done. At the head of six volunteers he made it into the castle. There he made sure that Sigfrid and his mother had indeed been buried properly, but he also searched the Baroness Ermegart's bower. He found a letter there, sealed with wax and addressed to her daughter-in-law. The baroness' confessor had written it. Reasoning that is was too risky for Lieselotte to receive the letter in person, Pelle smoked it for a good hour and opened it himself. In spite of the hardening he had gone through in the weeks past, he choked a little bit reading the letters.



My dearest Lieselotte,

as I feel the dreaded plague run its course in my mortal body, I fervently hope that you and little Lodewig are safe both from the dreaded plague and from the traitorous abbot. There is but little time left for me, and I must haste to convey important news.

Your husband, my son, perished of the wound he received when he valiantly tried to stop the arson and carnage in the Jew Alley. His last thoughts and words were of you and his son. He was buried under the floor of the chapel where I, too, will find my final resting place.

You, dear Lieselotte, are now tasked with holding the lands together for your son. You will think yourself ill-prepared for that, but I trust that you will rise to the challenge as the true daughter of your noble father. I remember well the nights that you spent with me when my dear son, your husband, was tilting at the Wartburg. I showed you a way then to reach motherhood, and that way will now gain you all the riches of Birkenhain. Remember my secret! There you will also find Sigfrid's sword and weapons, for Lodewig to carry when he will follow his father as lord of the lands.

To Ingeburg and her daughter, my namesake, convey my deep love and gratitude. Knowing her has made my last years richer. To her I bequeath my own dearest possession: the ring that was passed down to me from my mother. You will find it with the rest.

Fare well, Lieselotte. May you save and restore Birkenhain with the help of God and your loyal friends!

Ermegart



Pelle was at first puzzled by the letter. There was the allusion to the Baron's journey to the Wartburg. Pelle knew too well how Lieselotte had reached motherhood during that time, but what about the riches she would gain?

The secret passageway! Pelle had no idea where the hidden entrance to that stairwell was in the baroness' bower, but he could well remember where Lieselotte had emerged in the room upstairs. Telling his men to wait for him, he rushed inside and upstairs to the room where Ingeburg had lodged. Somebody had ransacked the room, but the wooden panelling was intact. Pelle had looked at the hidden door back in that week, and he thought he might know where to find the latch. It could not be on top where the small women would not reach it. It had to be lower.

Looking carefully, he saw a candleholder made of bronze that was mounted next to the hidden door. He pulled up and down to no effect. He pressed to the sides, and again there was no movement. Then he tried turning the candleholder. The secret lock clicked and the door sprang open. Before him was a very narrow spiral staircase leading upwards and downwards. Quickly, Pelle ran out to the hallway to find a fresh torch. Lighting the torch on a burning tallow light, he climbed down the stairway. There was nothing to be seen when he reached the floor below. He found the lock and opened the door to the baroness' bower, but he closed it quickly.

Proceeding downstairs, he came past another door. This one opened to the great hall behind the large tapestry, and again he closed it lest his passage might be discovered. Climbing down another flight, he reached the bottom of the stairwell. There, the stairwell opened into a domed room four steps across, and here he found the riches of Birkenhain. Three oak chests with massive padlocks, the Baron's sword and armour, and a large book which Pelle recognised as the overseer's ledger.

Pelle debated briefly with himself whether to leave the treasure where it was and to trust that nobody would discover the secret stairwell or to bring everything to Lemdalen. In the end he decided that the treasure had to be moved. Too many men were roaming the castle now, and if he came to retrieve gold for his lady, he might be discovered.

When he emerged from the castle with the chests, the ledger, and the baron's armour, the soldiers who accompanied him were none the wiser as to where he had recovered the bounty. A little after noontime he left Birkenhain with his six soldiers and a horse-drawn cart and rode homewards to Lemdalen. A half mile from Lemdalen there was an abandoned dwelling next to the Lem River. As had become their habit, Pelle and his men took off all the clothing that they had worn in Birkenhain and washed themselves with soap in the river. For the ride into town, they put on their "Lemdalen" clothes that had been stashed in the dwelling. It was a precaution against bringing the plague into their town.

Reaching Lemdalen, they were properly challenged by the gate sentry before the gate was opened for them. Again as was his habit, Pelle greeted Ingeburg only from afar. The last he wanted was to bring the plague into his home. For the time being, he and the soldiers of his detail slept in separate quarters. Food was ready for them, and afterwards he and Ingeburg spoke to each other through a closed window on the ground floor.

"Are you still in good health?" was Ingeburg's first question as always.

"I am, my love. I have news for the Lady Lieselotte, but also for you. Will you ask her to join you?"

It took only a few moments, and then Pelle heard his lady's voice. "I am here, Pelle."

"Lady, I have seen the grave of your husband. He was buried in proper form under the chapel floor as was his mother, the Baroness Ermegart."

"It consoles me that they were laid to rest properly," Lieselotte said in a sad voice.

"In the baroness' bower I found a letter to you from her hand. I brought it along, but seeing that she died of the plague I shall read it to you."

"Thank you, my brave Pelle," Lieselotte answered with warmth.

In a low voice lest he be overheard, Pelle read the letter to the women. After he ended the reading, he added in a whisper. "I have followed the letter, and I found the treasure. I brought it back here. You have the gold now to rebuild your lands."

"Oh, Pelle, what a true man you are," Lieselotte sighed. "Be assured of my everlasting gratitude."

"When can I have you back then?" Ingeburg asked.

"A week hence, the cleaning in the town will be finished. The dead are all buried and the men are now scrubbing walls and floors with strong lye. Then we shall need another week for the castle. After that, a week to make sure that nobody comes down sick, and then I shall be yours again."

"Three weeks! I shall not complain if only you are careful. It is not just I who needs you. Remember that."

"I shall. Believe me, Ingeburg, I miss your soft embrace more than anything."

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The measures they had adopted during the cleaning of town and castle had so far thwarted a fresh outbreak of the plague among his men, and now they were finished with the grim task. Already, Birkenhain's populace was back up to a third of its original numbers according to the census Pelle took. The sharp questioning of the survivors had also identified the ringleaders of the unrest, a cloth merchant and and two carters. The latter two had followed the former reeve and had perished in front of Lemdalen's gate, but the cloth merchant was very much alive and was awaiting judgement.

Thus, on the following Sunday, a Holy Mass was read in the smoke-blackened church by a nervous young priest who had been sent by the bishop, After Mass, Pelle, Schultheiss of Lemdalen and Overseer of Birkenhain Lands, standing in for the Noble Lady of Birkenhain, laid charge to Bechtold, merchant of Birkenhain and traitor. Three men bore witness against him, confirming his role in the burning of Jew Alley. Bechtold claimed to have been coerced by the wicked abbot, but that was refuted for he had been arguing to burn down Jew Alley weeks before the abbot entered Birkenhain.

In the end, Pelle proclaimed him guilty of arson, murder, theft, and treason. The sentence was lenient. There had been the temptation to have the man burnt at the stake, but Pelle was loath to order such a punishment. Instead, Pelle ordered him to be hanged as a thief, claiming that not being of noble pedigree, he could not mete out any such punishment as befit the more serious offences. The sentence was carried out on the very next morning under the eyes of the people of Birkenhain, and afterwards Pelle declared the traitor's possessions forfeit.

With town and castle cleansed and with the burnt remnants of Jew Alley cleared away, Pelle was able to return to Lemdalen. From among the returned people, Pelle had selected a wine merchant to serve as schultheiss for Birkenhain. He knew the man well enough to entrust him with that task. He also left behind a corporal and six men to guard the empty castle and to keep the order.

Most of the cats from the Jew Alley had somehow escaped the arson and carnage, and they had roamed the town freely. The rats that had been found everywhere had already been reduced in numbers. Nevertheless, superstition held that cats were evil, and already people were trying to kill them. Pelle forbade that strictly. Rats were eating what meagre food stores there were, something the town could ill afford. Keeping the numbers of those vermin low was important. The new schultheiss promised to enforce Pelle's decree.

Once more, they changed their clothes at the woodcutter's cabin before they rode into Lemdalen. The last case of the plague had been many weeks before, and so Pelle felt not the need to speak to Ingeburg through a latticed window. For the first time in months, he slept in his own house and in his own bed. So exhausted was he that he fell asleep on her the minute his head touched the soft pillow, and he never noticed that not one but two women joined him on the bedstead.

It was heaven for him to feel Ingeburg close to him in the night, her soft form pressed against him, and the sweet scent of her hair under his nose. He slept long that night, and it was long after the roosters' cries that he woke up. Ingeburg was still in his arms, but he also felt another soft body pressing against his back. It was Lieselotte.

Both women were awake and smiled at him.

"We are so happy to have you back," Ingeburg sighed.

"Yes, we missed you," Lieselotte added, her body close to his back.

Pelle stretched his limbs and turned to lie on his back. With his right arm he hugged his wife, and after a moment's hesitation, his left arm pulled Lieselotte close.

"Not as I missed you," he answered.

"Is your work in Birkenhain finished?" Lieselotte queried.

"Yes, the clean-up is done. The dead are buried, and the everything was scrubbed down with lye and soap."

Lieselotte shook herself. "I don't want to go back yet. I can stay here with you, can't I?"

Pelle smiled. "You are the lady of the lands. You decide."

Lieselotte smirked. "Yes, I know. Yet, this is your home, and you are my closest friends. Am I welcome?"

"Do you have to ask?" Ingeburg marvelled, shaking her head. "We love to have you."

"I can lie with you thusly, my friends," Lieselotte said sadly, "but more were imprudent. It were impossible to explain should I become with child."

Pelle nodded to that. "Ingeburg's embrace must be enough for you."

Lieselotte looked into his eyes. "It is true that I cherish her soft embrace, but I also hold fond memories of the nights I spent in your arms."

There was nothing Pelle could reply. He too had felt a guilty pleasure when he had lain with Lieselotte, but now that she was a widow there would be no way to explain a pregnancy. Inwardly grinning, he figured that the sight of Lieselotte and Ingeburg exchanging caresses would be exciting enough. When he did not answer, Lieselotte tilted her head.

"Will it bother you if I shall lie with Ingeburg from time to time."

"As long as I am allowed to watch," he blurted without thinking causing both women to blush hotly.

Ingeburg recovered first. "We shall find ways for Liese to have her share of comfort and happiness."

The bustle downstairs made them realise that it was time to start the day. When they broke their fast in the hall, Hunold showed up. There were a number of things he needed to clear with Pelle. He also brought the news that Hanke had found a bride. Her name was Lina, and she had arrived in Lemdalen two moons ago. Her father had been a grain merchant in Birkenhain with whom Hunold and Hanke had had dealings in the past. When both the plague and the uprising hit Birkenhain, that worthy man had sent off his daughter and her little brother to seek shelter and protection with Hunold. They had arrived with the clothes on their backs and a small bag of silver coins, but also with the knowledge where their father was keeping the rest of his gold and silver.

Lina was a good housekeeper and worker. She was not much of a talker, and that fit the sometimes taciturn Hanke just fine. When word came from Birkenhain that her father had survived, Hanke spoke to him for Lina, and a deal was struck. It would be a perfect union between the offspring of the largest freeholder and the most important grain merchant, and Lina would bring a dowry in gold into the marriage.

Pelle thought that a marriage would more than anything restore some normalcy to the town and the lands, and Hunold agreed to that. After the meal, Pelle busied himself with defining the positions that would have to be filled. He rode out to his old clearing in the forest in the afternoon to inspect the new forge. Four masonry kilns were now finished, and the building for the forge was nearing completion. Tilke had been able to find three of his journeymen among the fugitives from Birkenhain, and he was confident that they would soon start their craft again. Pelle knew that Rennenberg would buy all the steel they could make, and that would help to bring prosperity back to Birkenhain lands.

With a touch of regret, Pelle viewed the old cabin in which he and Ingeburg had been so happy. Matthias and Elsa were living in it again, and the former whore was working alongside the men who were emptying a kiln and filling the coal into sacks. She was sooty and dirty all over, but she looked happy and content. She had been lucky to give up her old trade when she did. Only two of the other wenches had survived, and they had suffered terribly under the cruelty of the soldiers from the abbey.

Five cabins now stood in the clearing, and soon there would be more. What had once been a solitary cabin would be a small village. Already, Tjark thought of finding wood cutters to settle there, to help with filling the kilns and to produce boards and beams for building.

Pelle also saw Luise and Margrite sitting near Tjark's cabin nursing their children. Somehow the two had found their friendship back, for Pelle heard them teasing each other. According to Tjark, the young woman was a willing helper, and away from the lewdness of her father her disposition had changed for the better. Tilke was joining them, and from the way the master smith looked at Margrite, Pelle thought there might be another couple in the making. Tilke's first wife had died six years earlier, and he was still a man in his prime – not the worst match for the hapless girl.

Pelle returned to Lemdalen shortly before dark. After washing off the grime, he sat to supper with Ingeburg and Liese. Ingeburg was showing her state a little by now, but to Pelle she looked as lovely as ever. To guess by the looks she cast at him, she would not put up with him falling asleep on her like the evening before, and Pelle smiled in expectation of things to come.

However, when he climbed up the stairs and entered their bedroom, he found not only Ingeburg but also Liese in their bed. Both women showed naked shoulders, and Pelle swallowed. Never had he seen Liese naked, but she had always worn her shirt. The way the two women were lying close to one another it was also clear that some fondling was going on under the blankets. Carefully, Pelle placed the oil lamp on the night stand and stepped closer. Ingeburg looked up at her husband and flipped away the blankets. Pelle did another double take. He was used to Ingeburg's beauty, to her proud breasts that were already growing again, to her narrow waist that was filling out by now, and to the sparse, golden curls that hid her secret openings. To see the naked form of Liese was new. She was willowy where Ingeburg was luxurious. Her breasts were rather small, with tiny pointed nipples, and the growth of dark brown curls between her legs was more pronounced. Yet, she was lovely all the same.

Ingeburg must have thought so too, for she was caressing her friend's thighs with her hands and smiling up at Pelle.

"She's lovely, isn't she?"

Pelle nodded mutely.

"Do you like it when I touch her?" she asked, letting her hand disappear between Liese' thighs and causing the baroness to inhale sharply.

Pelle's mouth was dry, and he just nodded drinking in the sight. Ingeburg continued the gentle caresses, and Liese closed her eyes while her hips began to move to meet the gentle hand.

"Liese and I spent the nights together whilst you were gone, and we tried out a lot. She likes it when I rub her opening with a flat hand like this. Open your legs, Liese, love!"

Obediently, Liese spread her thighs and Pelle could see Ingeburg's flat hand rubbing the opening causing wet noises. By now his member was hard enough to split logwood, and he quickly shed his trousers and his tunic. Naked he sat down on the bed watching Liese and Ingeburg. By now, Liese had turned her head and latched on Ingeburg's breast, suckling and mewling softly whilst her pubis was stroked gently.

"Slip in behind me!" Ingeburg whispered.

Pelle complied eagerly, spooning behind his wife. His probing hand found that her own opening was moist and ready. In no time at all, Pelle pressed against her behind and let his stiff member probe her wetness. Ingeburg sighed deeply.

"You make me so happy, Pelle."

Pelle let his own hand roam over his wife's body, feeling and weighing her swelling breasts, pinching softly the turgid nipples, and nuzzling the nape of her neck. He kept up his stroking in and out, but at a low pace. He recognised Ingeburg's mood. She wanted slow and languid, not fast and furious, and he was happy to comply. The folds of her sex merely caressed his member, and she felt exquisite.

Liese had also become aware of the change, and she opened her eyes to smile at Pelle.

"May I feel?" she asked.

Pelle nodded with a smile of his own, and then Liese's hand sneaked between Ingeburg's thighs. Her soft fingers tickled his shaft and his bollocks.

"So beautiful!" Liese sighed but then she squealed, for Ingeburg had pushed her fingers into her friend's opening.

Pelle felt his member swell with the sight, and it took willpower for him to keep up the measured stroking. Then Liese bent over Ingeburg and offered her lips to Pelle. Pelle kissed her gently at first, but she pressed her open lips against him and let her dainty tongue slip into his mouth. He suckled on it and pushed his own tongue between Liese's soft lips. She responded with a sigh, a sigh that changed into a purr for Ingeburg kept her hand busy in her friend's crotch. Liese sank back on the bed on Ingeburg's other side and Ingeburg turned her head sideways to offer her lips to Pelle. He complied and tasted a second pair of sweet lips while Liese watched them.

Kissing Ingeburg while stroking into her snatch from behind was exciting to Pelle. He remembered the time when he had taken her over the sawhorse when they were both blackened by coal dust. She'd had the same look of rapture then that she had now. It had been a wicked pleasure, and now it was so even more with Liese on her other side and with Ingeburg's hand in her friend's snatch. Unconsciously, Pelle began to push harder when he stroked into his wife, and Ingeburg picked up on it, pushing her tushy back to meet his strokes.

As he started to pound her in earnest, Ingeburg turned her head away from him and latched her mouth on Liese's, kissing her hard and demandingly while her hand began to stroke into the young brunette's sex. Pelle heard Liese whimper under the assault and he redoubled his own pounding.

In the end, he was the first to reach his peak, unloading days worth of his seed in Ingeburg's womb. Ingeburg mewled into Liese's mouth pressing her folded fingers deep into her friend's core. That sufficed to induce a shuddering release from Liese. She keened and her hands gripped the penetrating hand fiercely pressing it even deeper into her folds while her slim body doubled up. Pelle could feel a change in Ingeburg's snatch – it turned hot and liquid around his still pulsing member. She let go of Liese's mouth and arched up her head.

"Oh ye saints be blessed!" she hissed as she slammed back her tushy on more time, grinding into Pelle's groin and clamping down on his sensitive rod. Pelle almost came a second time, so intense was the feeling when Ingeburg reached her peak.

They lay like this for a few more minutes, savouring the feeling of togetherness and shared bliss. It was Liese who spoke the first words.

"A widow I am, yet I feel not alone and without love. Thank you, my dear friends, for letting me be a part of your love."

Pelle was nuzzling Ingeburg's neck, but he let go and looked into Liese's face.

"Methinks we shall have to serve our lady in many ways, and this will be the most rewarding."

Ingeburg giggled at that. "We shall do your pleasure, Liese, in whichever way you need."

In spite of her mourning state, Liese giggled in response. After all, she was but a young woman and the pressures under which she chafed needed an outlet.

"Oh, Ingeburg, you do my pleasure very much. Methinks I shall join you from time to time if I am allowed, but I shall also give you and Pelle the time alone that husband and wife need. You missed his presence very much in weeks past, and tomorrow night you and he will be by yourself."

"A furlough from your services, Lady?" Pelle asked jokingly.

Liese smiled back. "In a way, yes. I shall ask Rebecca to keep me company. I have need to find out what I may do for her. She is all alone now, and I know not of any Jewish people anywhere near Birkenhain with whom she may live safely."

"Paulus seems very smitten by her," Pelle remarked.

"He is, but her heart does not speak for him in turn," Liese answered sadly, giving Pelle a significant look. "It was considered before, and Rebecca's father even gave his approval, for her to take the sacrament and become my waiting woman and companion. I shall find out whether she might still consider it. It would make her a part of us, and I feel that she might be happy as such."

Pelle had not spoken to Rebecca in many days. He knew that she was in mourning over her father, that she was afraid of her future in a land where Christian neighbours distrusted and hated her race, and he could not help but sense that she felt close to him. He sighed. He had a wife who was more than enough to make any man, noble or common, happy. Now he had Liese to consider as part of his life. How could Rebecca fit in too? Ingeburg saw his look and guessed his thoughts.

"We shall cross that bridge when we get near it. I like her a lot, and I would not mind at all having her with us. Yet it must be her will. Whatever will happen, we shall help her to find happiness."

That was something to which they could all agree, and they lay back on the bed. Ingeburg gave him a kiss.

"Pelle, will you lie betwixt us so we may both snuggle close? Liese likes you too, you know?"

Pelle smiled and complied, and soon he had a naked woman on either side cuddled close. He rose his upper body once more and bent over to blow out the tallow light before he settled back. While slowly succumbing to sleep, he decided to follow Ingeburg's counsel. Things would sort themselves out in the end, and whatever the future held he would make decisions when the time was right. Right now he had reasons to be happy and content. Soon, Ingeburg would gift him another child. Little Ermegart was a happy and content girl, and his other offspring, Lodewig, was also growing strongly under Liese's care. His position in the lands was secure, and the threats had been dealt with, as least for now. Trying times lay ahead, but he had no reason to fear that he would not be up to future challenges. It was time to let go of the worries and demons of his younger years.

The scent of Ingeburg's hair was in his nose as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.


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The End
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Posted:  2012-04-01
Last Modified: 2012-05-27 / 12:55:45 pm
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