The Warrior Maiden Page 11

  Almost immediately he spotted Steffan’s tent, proudly displaying their family crest.

  Mulan mouthed, “Do you see him?”

  He shouldn’t have told her what he was planning. She was so reckless with her own life. If only he could have convinced Captain Bogdan that she should stay at camp. Perhaps it would be best if he told the captain that she was a woman. He would send her away, and then at least she’d be safe—even though she and her mother would be forced to leave their home.

  Wolfgang shook his head in answer to her question. They both turned their eyes back to the encampment.

  Men moved about with purpose, as if readying for something. They watched until the air grew cooler, a soft breeze blowing. Clouds overhead made the afternoon seem like evening. He was exceedingly cramped on the tree limb. He tried to change his position, holding on so he wouldn’t fall. Mulan rested against the trunk, appearing almost comfortable. She was staring out at the field in front of them, but her eyes were weary.

  Suddenly she sat forward and pointed.

  Steffan. He was headed toward the trees, probably searching for a place to relieve himself.

  Wolfgang began climbing down, making sure no one was nearby. He moved as quietly as he could, then noticed Mulan was ahead of him.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “I’ll help you, make sure no one slits your throat while you’re talking to Steffan.”

  “No. You stay here.”

  But the tightly pursed lips told him she would not listen.

  What kind of madness was this? A woman saying she would protect him? His pride refused to allow it, but how could he stop her?

  Everything he’d ever been taught told him to protect her. But she was not a wilting flower. She had proven herself capable.

  He nodded and said a silent prayer for their safety as he ran in the direction Steffan had gone.

  CHAPTER 12

  As Steffan strolled through the woods to clear his thoughts, he couldn’t stop reliving the moment when he shot Wolfgang’s friend and the look on his brother’s face.

  Steffan had always been the one who didn’t fit in with his family. It used to seem as if Wolfgang was the only one who understood him, but now . . . even his little brother and former best friend was his enemy.

  Wolfgang might have choked the life out of him had he not drawn his attention to the boy falling out of the tree.

  What was this boy to Wolfgang? He had released Steffan to go save him. Had simply let Steffan go. That boy, surely a near stranger, meant more to Wolf than he did.

  Now Wolfgang only cared about pleasing Father and being just like him—the hypocrite. But there had to be more to life than following after a man who’d cared more about his people, cared more about his older sons, and even cared more about his knights and his daughters’ husbands than about Steffan and Wolfgang.

  Why did Wolfgang not feel the same way? Why was he chasing after Father’s impossible standards? Father didn’t care about either of them or he would have sent them out to train as knights when they were boys so they could have achieved glory and success as men—even if it wasn’t the kind of success Valten or Father had achieved. They had titles and wealth and power handed to them.

  His little brother had always been prone to running and telling Father everything.

  Not Steffan. He wasn’t one of Father’s servants, blindly obeying and bowing and groveling. And now Father would never accept him. There was no going back home now that he had defied the Duke of Hagenheim by joining with the Teutonic Knights, attacking his father’s ally, Duke Konrad, and even fighting against his own brother.

  So be it.

  He’d always been alone, and he always would be.

  Wolfgang had tried to tell Steffan that his anger with Father had to do with what happened when they were boys, but it had nothing to do with that. He should just forget about that and stop talking about it.

  Steffan clenched his fists, resting his forehead against the tree in front of him. He imagined the tree was a person and hit it just hard enough to feel the pain in his knuckles.

  A footstep sounded behind him. He spun around.

  “I need to talk to you.” Wolfgang and the boy Steffan had shot stood there.

  Steffan pulled the knife in his belt out of its leather pouch, and the boy knocked it out of his hand.

  Wolfgang grabbed him by the throat as the boy clutched his wrists and pinned them behind his back before he could stop them.

  He fought like a madman, kicking out, heaving his body this way and that to get loose, but they slammed him on the ground face-first and leaned on his back.

  They stuffed a cloth in his mouth. A crimson mist descended over his vision.

  “Steffan, we don’t want to hurt you.”

  How dare his little brother think he could best him? Steffan threw his head back, trying to butt Wolfgang like a mountain goat. He tried to flip himself over, but the weight on his back made it impossible. He tugged on his hands, but someone was wrapping rope around his wrists.

  Even though it was Wolfgang, Steffan would kill him. Just as soon as he freed himself.

  Wolfgang’s heart beat fast. Why did his brother have to fight so hard? “I’m sorry, Steffan. I just want to talk to you.”

  Steffan was growling like a wild animal, his breath loud and raspy.

  This was not going the way he had hoped. But they couldn’t let the Teutonic Knights catch them, so Wolfgang and Mulan each took an arm and dragged Steffan farther away from the enemy encampment.

  After several minutes, Mulan was growing pale.

  “Let’s stop here.”

  Steffan was still kicking and thrashing, his eyes full of dark threats.

  “Steffan, I’m taking you prisoner. It’s for your own good as well as mine since I know you will kill me if I release you now.”

  His face red, Steffan’s glaring look confirmed it.

  “Whatever happens, you will always be my brother.” Wolfgang’s stomach sank as it became clearer and clearer that this was a foolhardy thing to do, and he could see no good way out. If he took Steffan prisoner, he’d never forgive him. And the purpose of trying to reason with him would never succeed now. He read the same thoughts on Mulan’s face.

  She obviously needed to rest after dragging Steffan so far. Her wound wasn’t nearly healed. She would never complain, though.

  Wolfgang looked at Mulan and said softly, “I think we should let him go.”

  “Are you mad? He’ll slit our throats.”

  He turned to Steffan. “You did shoot her and could have killed her—”

  “Him!” Mulan speared him with a glare.

  What had he done? “Of course. Him. Mikolai here, a soldier from Lithuania. You could have killed him.”

  Had Steffan noticed his mistake in calling Mulan “her” instead of “him”? His brother’s eyes were fixed on Mulan now, studying her face, then looking her up and down.

  Wolfgang felt sick. Would Wolfgang’s mistake get her killed? And how would they keep Steffan prisoner? He was so angry, he would hurt himself trying to escape.

  Wolfgang pressed a clammy hand to his forehead. A drop of sweat dribbled down his temple, and he wiped it with his hand.

  Mulan touched his shoulder from behind. “What will we do? Your brother . . . ?”

  “We cannot free him.”

  “We do have a few prisoners. We’ll have to confine him with the others.”

  Wolfgang pushed the panicked thoughts from his head and nodded. “Let us depart before we are seen.”

  Mulan could see the regret on Wolfgang’s ashen face and bowed shoulders. But there was nothing to do but walk back to their encampment with their new prisoner.

  When they neared camp, Wolfgang stopped and took the gag from Steffan’s mouth. “Are your troops planning to attack the castle again? Or are you waiting for reinforcements?”

  Steffan would have been handsome if not for the sneer curling his lips. He had
a similar build and look to his brother, but his hair was lighter and the way he walked and carried himself reminded her of the boys who harassed her in her home village.

  She very much disliked those boys.

  “Surely you don’t expect me to tell you anything—you or your . . . girl friend.” Steffan raised his brows, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “Tell me. Do you plan to wed her? Or is she more like a sister?” Steffan belted out a laugh.

  Mulan’s face burned, but she kept her gaze away from Wolfgang, lest his reaction further humiliate her.

  “You talk nonsense, Steffan.”

  “Here you were, capturing me to find out my secrets, but instead I have found out yours.” Steffan laughed again. “Your most courageous and skillful soldier is not a man at all, but this little, foreign-looking girl.”

  She finally chanced a glance at Wolfgang. His eyes were wide and his face seemed frozen. Was he horrified that his brother had thought he might wed her? Or horrified that he’d unwittingly revealed her secret?

  Mulan couldn’t think about that now. Instead, she did what she always did when her masculinity seemed to be in question. She grunted, leaned her head and shoulders back, and folded her arms in front of her chest.

  Wolfgang gestured to her to follow him. Steffan sat on a large boulder, still grinning, while Wolfgang and Mulan walked several feet away.

  He whispered, “We can’t take him to be guarded along with the rest of the prisoners. He’ll tell them your secret. And it’s all my fault.” Regret filled his expression. “Please forgive me.”

  “Perhaps you could keep him in your tent, away from everyone else.”

  “I have no tent. It burned.”

  “You could use my tent.”

  “I think you need your tent.” He gave her a significant look.

  He was right.

  “I don’t suppose I could keep him gagged all the time.”

  “Probably not.” This was indeed a problem.

  Wolfgang walked back to his brother.

  “Steffan, do you remember how Sir Gerek sought our sister, even when everyone else had given up on finding her?”

  Steffan’s face seemed made of stone. He didn’t move or speak.

  “Do you remember how much we admired him? How we wanted to be like him?”

  “But there’s no way we could be like him, could we? Unlike Sir Gerek, we were never sent to train as squires so we could become knights.”

  “What about Gabe? He was never a knight, but he fought for a woman’s honor and freedom.”

  “And married an heiress. Ja, he was very wise.”

  “And Aladdin? He was not a knight or a duke’s son. He was an orphan, but he never reacted to his position in life with anger, never rebelled against authority. He worked hard and was known by everyone as a person of integrity. And now he is wealthy and prosperous and—”

  “Spare me the rest of the homily, brother, made even more ridiculous by the fact that you are neither a priest nor my elder.”

  “I’m only trying to make you understand that the path you have taken is not the honorable way to attain your goals. Fighting with a bunch of mercenaries instead of fighting for what’s right—”

  “Who are you to say what’s right? I happen to think the Teutonic Knights are the righteous ones in this fight.”

  “How are they righteous? They attack innocent people because they desire their lands, burning and raiding—”

  “Are you God? Before his master a servant stands or falls. Who are you to judge knights who have taken vows before God?”

  Wolfgang turned away, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead.

  Mulan wanted to tell him to give up on trying to reason with Steffan. He would not listen.

  “So, who knows your friend is a woman?” Steffan smirked. “Your fellow soldiers?”

  Wolfgang spun around to face him again. “Steffan, I am asking you . . . Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “That Duke Konrad’s hero is a female?”

  “It would cause a lot of harm to befall her.”

  “And what will you do for me if I agree?”

  Wolfgang’s jaw twitched.

  “Will you untie my hands? Will you set me free? Because I’m not accustomed to being treated like a common thief, even if I am the despised one of the family.”

  “Will you promise not to tell anyone our secret?”

  “Our secret?” He huffed out a laugh, grinning and sneering at the same time. “Have you betrothed yourself to her? Or perhaps you are not interested in marriage to her. Perhaps there is another, less noble reason you are protecting her.”

  “How dare you.” Wolfgang shoved Steffan against a tree. They glared at each other. He looked like he wanted to punch his brother, but it would not be a fair fight with Steffan’s hands still tied. Wolfgang took his hands off him and stepped back. He took a breath and said softly, “Is protection of women not part of the Teutonic Knights’ vows?”

  “Is it a woman’s duty now to go off to war, fighting against men? I don’t understand your intention. Or hers.”

  “You are determined to make a jest of the most serious of subjects. I’m asking you, as your closest brother, to please not say anything about this to anyone. And it would give me both peace and pleasure if you would leave the Teutonic Knights and join our side of the fight, to fight alongside me and my friends.”

  “Your requests are noted. And now I shall make a request of my own.” He leaned forward. “Release me and allow me to go back to my friends.”

  “I cannot release you. I’m sorry.”

  “You are not sorry.” Steffan narrowed his blue eyes to slits. “But you will be.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The sinking feeling in Wolfgang’s gut remained after he and Mulan led Steffan into camp and installed him with the other prisoners.

  The late-morning sun warmed the air as he and Mulan made their way back out to fulfill their spying mission. Walking through the forest toward the enemy encampment, he told himself that Steffan wouldn’t be treated badly. Steffan would get plenty of food and he’d be safe from danger. That was the best gift he could give his mother, wasn’t it? But the sick feeling only grew worse as he remembered his brother’s cold, bitter glare and the sneer when he called Mulan his girl friend.

  They went to the same tree and climbed it again to watch the enemy camp. But when he glanced at Mulan, her face was pale and her eyelids drooped.

  “We should go back. You have not recovered enough from your wound to be climbing trees.”

  “No, no, I just need to rest a few moments.”

  “Mulan, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I shall have my father do something for you, give you money or give your mother a place to live so you don’t have to fight.”

  “Money for what?”

  “For you being injured.”

  “This is battle. Soldiers get shot. I am not seriously injured and will be perfectly well in a few days. For now, I’m fully able to sit in this tree and spy on any enemy soldiers who happen by. I wish you would stop feeling responsible for me.”

  “I am responsible. If I had not stopped you, he wouldn’t have seen you there and wouldn’t have shot you.”

  “I’ve never known anyone so eager to accept blame and guilt.” She frowned.

  “I don’t take the blame for things I’m not responsible for.” But even as he said the words, he knew she was right.

  Why did he do that? Did he think God would see him punishing himself by feeling guilty and then grant him atonement based on the extent of his feelings? How daft.

  But he was concerned about her and she’d distracted him from pursuing the subject. “Your wound’s not bleeding again, is it?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Pull up your shirt and let me see.”

  “My mother warned me about men like you.” The jest was as weak as her voice.

  Wolfgang maneuvered up and over the branch between them, until he was
sitting next to her in the tree.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Mulan held up her hands in a defensive gesture.

  “Then you check to see if it’s bleeding.”

  She speared him with a steely gaze, then looked down and lifted her rough woolen tunic and the linen shirt under it. A big spot of bright-red blood stained the front of the bandage.

  “That’s not good.”

  “You worry like an old woman.”

  But there was an edge of worry in her own tone.

  “I think I just need to rest. And it won’t help to climb back down and walk all the way back to camp.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree.

  He watched her face. God, don’t let my mistake and Steffan’s reckless rebellion cause another human being to die. Especially not this one. She is . . . extraordinary.

  Her face gradually relaxed. Her breathing changed with sleep and became slower.

  She was pretty, when she wasn’t putting dirt on her face to disguise how smooth her skin was. Her long black eyelashes matched her hair, which had come loose from the leather tie that held it back from her face. With the silky black strands falling against her cheek, anyone would be able to see how feminine she was. Her face was full and curvy, not hard or angular like a man’s, and her hands were small and delicate. How had he ever been fooled into thinking she was a man, or even a boy?

  He had a sudden urge to touch her cheek with his fingers.

  He shook his head to stop that thought path. These were the kinds of thoughts he would have about his wife someday, and this woman was not the type of woman he imagined marrying. She was rough and had been around men, fighting with them and hearing their coarse talk. What would his mother and father say?

  But he suddenly knew . . . his parents would like her. She was unselfish, and her recklessness reminded him a bit of Steffan. No wonder she confused him! And yet, she was nothing like Steffan. She was gentle and serious and determined. She was only heedless with her own life, not others’. She was courageous in defending the poor and innocent.