The Piper's Pursuit Read online

  “This is Hamlin town, is it not?”

  “It is.” She studied him a moment longer. He did not have a vicious look, but one could never be too careful.

  “I said, could you tell me where I might find the Bürgermeister?” He spoke each word deliberately. His brows drew together and now he was frowning.

  Good. She had annoyed him. “He’s probably at his home, as it is nearly suppertime.”

  “And do you know the location of his house?”

  “I should. I am going there myself.”

  Just then she saw Hans walking toward her, though he was still many steps away.

  The stranger sat a little taller in the saddle. “I am Steffan of Hagenheim. And I would be much obliged if you would allow me to accompany you there.”

  Did he think he was entitled to her deference just because he was from Hagenheim, the seat of power for this region? At least his tone was respectful, though there was an edge to it, as if he were still annoyed but trying to hide it.

  “Very well.”

  Hans reached her then and leaned close to her ear. In a low voice, he told her where to find little Bridda’s house. She thanked him, and he went back to his post at the gate.

  Katerina started walking toward her home, then glanced over her shoulder at Steffan of Hagenheim. The glance was the only invitation he would get, so he’d better take it.

  Two

  Steffan gazed down at the wavy-haired beauty. Her attitude was as unruly as her hair, and there was a spark in her blue eyes. He was intrigued, as he couldn’t remember a young woman treating him with so much contrariness—other than his sisters.

  He followed her down the street after she turned her crossbow-laden back to him. Was she a hunter? A young woman carrying a crossbow might have struck him more strangely had he not recently spent time with his brother and sister-in-law, both of whom were lauded and famous for fighting in the recent liberation of Poland from the Teutonic Knights.

  This rather tall girl, with her wild hair and even wilder expression, looked as if she could take on a few knights herself—and win.

  He wished he’d asked her name. She walked with a sway that was both confident and feminine. Most women who held their heads that high were aristocratic, wore embroidered silk clothing, and were fine-boned and dainty. This girl looked quite sturdy and wore the clothing of a poor laborer’s daughter.

  Surely she had not been out hunting, not with the Beast of Hamlin on the loose.

  Steffan had been to Hamlin when he was a young boy, so the streets seemed vaguely familiar. The town, in fact, was closely connected to his family, and reminded him so much of Hagenheim that it caused a pang to shoot through his middle.

  He wasn’t that far away now—only two or three days’ ride. After he killed the Beast of Hamlin, he’d go back, even though he’d have to see his parents’ disappointment in him, and that thought stirred up the old angry feeling that made him want to do something stupid like defy his father’s wishes and join with the Teutonic Knights. But he had to face his father’s disapproval sooner or later, and he knew he deserved it, even if it did still make him angry.

  His thoughts were suddenly redirected by a sight he’d never seen before—a herd of rats moving down the street, streaming into an alleyway up ahead. They roiled as they crawled and tumbled over each other, making faint screeching sounds, mingling with the collective clicking of their tiny claws on the cobblestones.

  A man walking into the path of the rats suddenly cried out and started to back away. The rats reached him before he could escape, engulfing his feet as he cried out again, lifting one foot then the other. Steffan held his breath, too far away to help the man as he tried to walk on top of the rats. When he lifted one foot, a rat hung by its teeth from his ankle.

  The man flailed his arms, running as best he could. He was nearly out of the teeming rats when he fell to his knees amidst the furry bodies. He jumped up and ran some more, until he finally disappeared down an open street.

  On the vermin came.

  A woman ahead of them was carrying a large cloth bundle in front of her, across her arms, obstructing her view.

  “Watch out!” the girl with the crossbow yelled, hurrying toward the woman, but it was too late. The rodents surrounded the woman’s feet. She lifted a foot, teetering, then fell to her knees among them and screamed.

  Steffan slid from his saddle and ran toward her, but the young woman with the crossbow raced ahead of him and began kicking a path through the rats.

  Steffan used his booted feet to sweep the rodents out of the way. The girl reached the woman first and grabbed her under her arms, yanking her to her feet. Steffan picked up the woman’s bundle. He shook off a rat that had sunk its teeth into it, then kicked at the rats that were still swarming around them, clearing a circle of safety around the two women.

  Finally, the herd of rats moved on down the street.

  “Thank you, Fräulein Katerina.” The woman let out a loud breath, then laughed shakily. “And you.” She took her bundle from him. “Thank you.”

  So the girl’s name was Katerina.

  “You are welcome, Frau,” Steffan said.

  “Frau Walpurg, this is Steffan of Hagenheim.”

  “I thank you, Herr Steffan.” Frau Walpurg bowed, then smiled at him.

  It amused him to hear someone call him “Herr” when the proper way to address him was “Lord Steffan,” but he didn’t correct her.

  “We shall walk with you as far as my house,” Katerina said.

  Her house? Was she a servant of the Bürgermeister? Steffan would have to speak to him about letting his servant girl go hunting alone with the beast stalking about.

  “Are you not one of our town’s guards, a big strapping man like you?” Frau Walpurg asked.

  “I am not.”

  “I’m sure the Bürgermeister would be grateful to have your services.”

  “Steffan of Hagenheim is only passing through,” Katerina said.

  “That is probably true, Fräulein Katerina, though one never can be certain of the future.”

  She frowned and leaned away when he spoke her name.

  Frau Walpurg turned to Katerina. “Please tell Herr Hennek to find someone to get rid of these rats.” The woman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Of course. I will.” Katerina laid a comforting hand on the woman’s arm.

  “Fare well, Katerina,” Frau Walpurg said, moving away from them, “and thank you again, Herr Steffan of Hagenheim.”

  “You are most welcome.” He gave her a gallant bow.

  “The Bürgermeister will think of a way to rid us of these rats, and the beast too. God will reveal it to him. Hennek is a good Bürgermeister.”

  Steffan noticed Katerina cringing at the woman’s words, then she gave the woman a weak half smile. “Can you make it the rest of the way home?”

  “Yes, yes.” With one last “fare well,” the woman hurried away down the street.

  Katerina strode toward a large, four-story, half-timber house, colorfully decorated with fantastical painted-on animals and flowers. A young man was coming around the side of the house.

  “Please take this man’s horse to the stable.” Katerina inclined her head toward Steffan and his horse.

  “Of course.” The young servant reached for the reins and Steffan handed them over.

  Steffan waited for her to go first, then followed her to the giant wooden front door with the head of a lion two feet wide carved into it at eye level. She opened the door and went ahead of him, her shoulders tilted back, her head high, unlike any servant girl he’d ever seen.

  A well-dressed woman came gliding down the stairs as they stood in the entryway of the large house. Katerina slipped off her crossbow and addressed her.

  “Mother, this man wishes to speak to my stepfather.”

  So Katerina was the mayor’s stepdaughter.

  The woman said softly, “Change your clothing quickly, darling.”

  Katerina hur
ried up the steps without even a backward glance.

  Steffan stared as she made her way up to the top of the staircase and disappeared from view. Was she also the daughter whose hand in marriage the mayor was giving as part of the reward?

  “May I ask your name?” The lovely woman whom Katerina had called Mother wore a gentle, refined expression. Katerina had obviously acquired her lovely eyes and mouth from her mother, who did not look much older than Katerina.

  “I am Steffan of Hagenheim.” He might as well tell her the truth. “My father is Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim.”

  The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. She bowed her head to him. “Lord Steffan, you are most welcome here. I am Ayla Grymmelin, and my husband is Hennek Grymmelin.”

  “I am honored, Frau Grymmelin.” Steffan bowed.

  “The servant will take your saddlebag.”

  He’d forgotten he’d slung it over his shoulder. It contained nearly all he owned, and his sword and scabbard were strapped to it.

  A servant who had been lurking in the shadows came forward, and Steffan handed it to him.

  “Won’t you please stay for supper?” Frau Grymmelin’s voice was soft and pleasing. “We would be honored to have you as our guest for as long as you would like to stay.”

  Her voice was mild but her eyes studied him, and in them he saw a glimmer of something—fear, hope, desperation, or maybe all three.

  She turned and led him through a doorway to a dining hall dominated by a large table and ornately carved chairs.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them, too heavy to be Katerina’s. Frau Grymmelin took a step back, toward the wall. A moment later, a large man almost as tall as Steffan entered the room.

  “Husband, this is Lord Steffan of Hagenheim.” Something about her expression made a memory spring to Steffan’s mind. Years ago he and his brother Wolfgang had been walking through the Marktplatz when they saw a man beating a dog. They had rescued the pup, taking her and keeping her as a pet, but he’d never forgotten the way the dog had cowered before the man.

  The mayor of Hamlin had thick black hair interspersed with white and equally thick black eyebrows. A few wrinkles around his eyes hardly took away from his otherwise smooth face and even smoother smile, which broke out on his face when his wife introduced him.

  “It is an honor to meet you. You are the duke’s son, yes?” He raised his brows as he stared hard at Steffan’s face.

  “I am.”

  “An honor indeed! And I am the duke’s humble servant, Hennek Grymmelin, Bürgermeister of this fine town. Please, sit at my right hand and enjoy the best I have to offer. Ayla, have the food brought in.”

  Steffan and the mayor sat while Frau Grymmelin hurried away.

  “Shall I play my pipe for you while we wait?”

  Steffan must have looked surprised, because the mayor said, “You did not think the Mayor of Hamlin would play such a humble instrument?”

  “No, it’s just that . . . I also play the pipe.” Steffan extracted his own small pipe from inside his outer garment.

  “Oh-ho! You wish to best me, no doubt.”

  “No, no, please play something. I rarely get to listen. I’m usually the one playing.”

  “Very well, then.” The mayor placed the flute to his lips and started playing a popular tune, a well-known song Steffan was often asked to play.

  The mayor was proficient, but Steffan noticed he skipped a note here and there. He had barely reached the end of one verse and chorus when he stopped.

  “That is enough of that. I should be asking you all the news of Hagenheim. It has been more than two years since Duke Wilhelm paid us a visit.” Herr Hennek held eye contact with Steffan. “But Lord Hamlin was here nine months ago, just before all our trouble started.”

  “I am surprised he did not come at once to help hunt down the beast.” Such a thing was just what his oldest brother, Valten, loved.

  “He may not have heard about the beast yet.” Herr Hennek glanced away.

  “That seems like something the duke should know about.”

  “We do not like to ask for help with problems we can solve ourselves. I would not worry the duke with things that do not affect him.”

  Steffan opened his mouth to say that such problems were very important to the duke, since they had to do with the safety of his people. But just then Frau Ayla entered the room, the servants behind her carrying large platters with bowls and spoons, and began setting four places.

  Hennek sat at the head of the table while Frau Ayla sat across from Steffan and smiled. The servants placed pottery bowls in front of each of them, with an extra one beside Frau Ayla. They served the bread and spooned frumenty into the bowls.

  “Do we need to wait for Katerina or will she not be joining us?” Bürgermeister Hennek cast a hard stare at Frau Ayla.

  “She is readying herself and should be here any moment.” The lovely woman smiled, but her eyes darted past Hennek’s head, down to the table, then down at her lap. Still smiling, she glanced up at Steffan. “What brings you to Hamlin, Lord Steffan?”

  “Can you not guess, my dear?” Hennek’s voice boomed, filling the room. “Do you truly need to ask?”

  Just then Katerina caught Steffan’s eye as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She approached the room slowly as her stepfather went on.

  “Are you so daft as not to guess his intentions? He has heard of our daughter’s beauty and has come to win her by killing the beast!”

  Katerina entered the room, her jaw set, her chin rigid as stone. She sent a narrow-eyed glance at Mayor Hennek, paused, then sat down across from Steffan. She kept her head high as one of the servants placed a bowl in front her.

  He didn’t have to wonder what she thought of him or what she thought of the Bürgermeister offering her as a reward. Her jaw was still hard and her lips pursed.

  Something stirred inside his chest. This beautiful young woman might already be predisposed to hate him, and he might not be the most worthy son of his father, and he didn’t intend to marry her even if he did win her. But he had an inexplicable desire to change her mind.

  * * *

  Katerina’s fury at her boorish stepfather was like a fire in her head. How dare he speak to Mother in his usual arrogant way in front of this equally arrogant man? And why had her stepfather invited him to sup with them? Probably Mother, feeling sorry for him, invited him before she had time to think. He did look a bit hungry, but he was strong. He could kill and eat the small game that ran wild all over the forests of this region. If he wasn’t afraid to hunt the beast, he should be able to get his own food.

  And why should she care? She had more important concerns—namely, what was happening to the town’s children. She was beginning to wonder if the rats were carrying them off. They seemed to be getting bigger and bolder and more numerous by the day.

  She would kill the beast herself. And she would not be “given” by anyone or to anyone. Especially not to this man.

  “You were late, Katerina. Were you killing rats again? You know that frightens people.”

  “And the rats do not frighten people?” Katerina said the words in a low voice and immediately wished she’d kept silent. Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks as her mind went on alert.

  “Lateness is a very bad trait. If you had a husband—”

  Katerina’s mother’s frumenty bowl slipped off the edge of the table and crashed to the floor, breaking and spilling at her feet.

  It was just like her mother to cause a distraction when Hennek was saying something especially malevolent. Katerina laughed, a quick bark. She glanced at her stepfather, knowing he’d be furious at her mother for breaking the bowl. Indeed, Hennek wore a pinched, hard look on his face.

  A servant rushed into the room and began cleaning up the mess while another servant girl quickly brought in a full bowl and placed it in front of her mother.

  Mother would rather endure Hennek’s sullen, cold treatment of her for the next sev
eral days—which would be the punishment for knocking her frumenty onto the floor—than allow Katerina to be humiliated by her stepfather’s words in front of this stranger from Hagenheim.

  She also did it to stop Katerina from saying what she would have said next, which likely would have turned into one of their heated arguments. Katerina did not often argue with Hennek, but when she did, it always grew ugly, with him accusing and insinuating nasty things—that she was coldhearted and would never marry, that she was greedy, and that she only pretended to love her mother but was actually too selfish to care about anyone but herself. She’d long noticed his practice of accusing others of what he himself was guilty of.

  Katerina would somehow find a way to save herself and her mother from Hennek. And she would not have to marry some man in order to do it. First she would kill the beast and make sure no other children were harmed. Then she would force Hennek to give her the reward money. And then she would somehow convince her mother to leave Hennek, who was more evil and insidious than any beast, and they would begin anew in a new town.

  Her thoughts darted to the little girl Bridda. She almost trembled with the impulse to run over to her home and ask her questions. But that would not be wise. Better to let her soak up her parents’ love for one night, to feel safe again. Then she’d be more apt to answer Katerina’s questions.

  She just had to wait.

  Hennek’s pinched look was slowly changing into a snide little smile, then a toothy grin as he turned toward Steffan.

  “I wish you success, Lord Steffan, in hunting the beast.”

  Lord Steffan? Wasn’t that taking things a bit far in addressing a simple mercenary like this man?

  “I honed my hunting skills in the Harz Mountains just outside of Hagenheim. And I fought in the Polish-Teutonic battles a year ago.”

  “A soldier! Very good!” Hennek boomed.

  Her stepfather never liked anyone else showing him up, and since he had never fought in a battle, he became quite loud to draw the attention back to himself—one of his many grating traits.