Chapter Three
Eidit had already assembled the things Hannelore would need for her journey into a frigid future. When she handed her former mistress a flannel chemise, she laughed when Hannelore began to pull off the linen one she was already wearing. “No, lamb, layer it.” Although the chemise was not heavy, Hannelore was astonished at how much warmer adding a thin layer made her feel. Hannelore sat in front of the fire while Eidit kept up a steady chatter about the clothes she had packed and how pretty the baby was. They both avoided speaking about her impending banishment to the frigid ceiling of their world.
Rocking the baby, Hannelore had to address at least some small part of her sadness. “I won’t ever see you again.”
It hung heavy, and Eidit didn’t try to dispute it. She was folding baby things into a saddle pack and kept her eyes low. “It will be all right. The kindnesses you’ve done have gone ahead of you.”
Hannelore felt a lump in her throat. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she gently chided.
Eidit shook her head. “Do you remember that dairy maid who got herself into trouble a few years back?”
She did remember. The girl had fallen in love with a boy whose family disapproved of him. Hannelore had intervened and helped the young swain find a job. “Well,” Eidit continued, “he’s the gamekeeper at Fir Manor on the outskirts of the forest. You will be there tomorrow night.”
“Oh.”
Eidit continued, “Remember the girl who didn’t want to marry that eighty-year-old Jarl that her father owed money to?”
Hannelore remembered her; she had paid the bride price and helped the girl get to the convent of the sisters of mercy further north. Friedrich had been furious, but Hannelore had been committed to helping the poor frightened child.
“She hasn’t forgotten. Neither have her friends.”
A horrific thought occurred to Hannelore. “Is everyone who shelters me in danger?”
“Don’t you worry about that. The general has a plan.”
Before the sun was up, Eidit wrapped the baby in rabbit fur and laced her into what looked like a narrow basket with long straps. She soundly kissed each of the baby’s cheeks and then laced the straps over Hannelore’s shoulders so that the baby was secured to her mother’s chest.
The horseman had arrived. Before she could say another tearful farewell she was helped up in front of the rider. It was awkward being pressed against a man’s thighs, but she had no choice. He draped his cloak around mother and child. With a flurry of furious hoof beats they were riding north.
The horseman rode with such speed that Hannelore couldn’t even feel the hooves making contact with the path. Even with only moonlight to guide him, he was swift and sure as he carried Hannelore and her helpless infant away from everything they had ever known.
She would not have thought it possible to fall asleep on a galloping horse, but she realized when they stopped to take on a fresh mount that she had. Even with the smooth skill of the rider, her bones had begun to feel shaken apart at the joints. She relieved herself in the woods. “Allow me to nurse the baby and we can be off.” The rider shook his head. He reached for her and pulled her back up in front of him. He studiously looked away to give her some modicum of privacy as she adjusted the sling that carried Lilja. The baby was hungry and latched on eagerly. Hannelore draped her cloak around them and nodded her assent. They could continue. Twice more he changed horses. At the first sign of dawn, they reached a gate. Whoever was inside had been watching for them, as the gate was opened and they were ushered inside immediately. The rider swung down and reached up to help his aching passenger dismount.
Hannelore drank in her surroundings. It was a tidy courtyard. The rider grasped her shoulder and hurried her into a building. She could smell beeswax, which meant that expensive candles were burned here with impunity. A bell pealed overhead. A kindly faced woman in a black habit reached her hands out in welcome. They were in a convent. “You are safe here,” the woman said in an accent that was impossible to place.
The rider gave a low bow. “I leave you here. One of my brethren will arrive at twilight.”
Hannelore laid a hand on his arm. “I cannot thank you enough.”
His voice was not unkind, but it was lacking in artifice. “My loyalty is not to you. Although I wish you well enough.” He was gone before she could even begin to articulate a response.
The abbess led Hannelore through a warren of rooms. They stopped in a warm room with a large bed. The young mother wasn’t sure which was more appealing; the downy comforter of the bed, or the table laid with half of a roast chicken, bread and butter, and a flagon of spiced cider. Hannelore removed the baby from the sling around her neck. A younger woman had followed, and she gave a deep curtsy as she reached for the baby. Hannelore was startled. She held out her hand. “I am not a princess any longer. I don’t think so, anyway. Please, don’t.”
“You are to me, my lady. I will never think otherwise.”
Hannelore recognized the girl; the pinched fearful look had been replaced. She seemed healthy and at peace. “Are you happy here?”
The girl smiled. “I am, yes. I was able to have a life of my own choosing, thanks to you.”
The abbess gave her a kind look. “Many of us intend to keep you and the babe safe. You should eat and rest. We will look after the little one.” Suddenly Hannelore found herself alone. She began with a drink. Never a bad idea, she thought to herself. A long quaff of the heady cider warmed her. Slipping out of her boots, she noticed that laid out on the bed was a long-sleeved change of clothing. Eagerly, she peeled herself out of her cold and dirty dress. She had two chemises on—the linen one she had started with and the warmer one Eidit had given her. She availed herself of a pitcher of hot water. Pouring it into the basin, Hannelore used a linen to scrub her neck and under her arms. She rubbed herself briskly and pulled the new shift on. A clean one was heavenly. She greedily tugged off the chicken leg and walked to the window while eating it rapidly. It was an old-fashioned window, full of many panes of leaded glass. She could see mountains in the distance, which meant she was further north than she had ever been. The sky-high trees told her that the convent was deep in a pine forest. Thus far, her natural surroundings were not that different from those she was familiar with. If she was really being sent to the end of the world, there would be snow bear, dire wolves, tusked tigers, even, perhaps, the wooly mammoths. She was not entirely sure which of these creatures were fantastical and which were real. The far north was shrouded in mystery. She ate, pacing back and forth. No need to sit until she had to.
The windows made the room light enough to read in. She unrolled the scroll. She might as well learn something about the man she was going to be bound to for the rest of her life. She skimmed the first entries and her eye was caught by what she recognized as the general’s handwriting. It was a scroll that had been passed back and forth. This entry was five years old.
Jonis—I am proud to have served with you, so few men have ever been worthy of transfiguration. I am glad to hear that your lovely wife is expecting. Your next patrol should be completed in time for you to be home to meet the Snow Force’s newest member! In Honor Alone, G.
She skimmed through the scroll reading that Jonis had returned from his patrol just in time to meet his new baby daughter. There were a number of posts back and forth about missions and personal news. Jonis’ wife and daughter moved to Pinnacle Keep, making it easier for him to see them. Her eye caught on a post that described Hannelore’s marriage to Friedrich.
She is a truly good woman. My youngest brother has struggled to find purpose. He is fourth in line to the throne. And we suspect that has contributed to his lack of ambition. We older three have each found our role: king, general, and archbishop. Perhaps raising a family to be proud of will grant him peace. Congratulations on the birth of your son! Benir Georg is a fine name and his godfather will look forward to making his acquaintance.
This post contained an addendum.
I have just received the heart-wrenching news about the fever that moved through the keep. I can only imagine the grief you must feel. I know you loved Ana and she was a devoted wife. I pray that the children remain healthy. Although you seem to have been born to shine on the battlefield, we must ensure that you remain safe for the sake of the children. Therefore, Pinnacle Keep needs a new paladin. I am asking you to consecrate your life to that role. It will allow you to raise your children and mold the next generations of the Snow Force. You have earned honor on the battlefield, and your people are grateful. You will serve the force in a new way now. My brother is offering masses for Ana. United in Honor and Grief, G.
Jonis seemed to appreciate his new position.
General, you do me great credit. I had wondered how I could possibly consider commanding forces when my children are motherless. To my astonishment, I find comfort in this position. I am busy enough to keep my grief at bay. Sera and Benny are well cared for and my lads are coming along well. I find that a keep needs equal portions of discipline and encouragement. The training I can manage; knowing how many pounds of butter we need to have on hand is beyond my reckoning. No one has starved yet, but if you know of a capable older woman who would be willing to be housekeeper/mother to my lads, it would help ensure the health of your youngest soldiers. I can make a lad a soldier, but he needs a good woman to help shape him into an honorable man. In Honor and Gratitude, J.
The last entry from the general was written in a more hurried script.
Jonis, gilded dragon of Pinnacle Keep, I need help that only you can give. I feel that my proposal will be a blessing to you and yours.
Well, she thought, that’s one way to arrange a marriage.
Princess Hannelore and her daughter Crown Princess Lilja need sanctuary. It is imperative that no one know where she is. Hannelore is a loving, gracious, and capable woman.
Tears pricked under her eyelids to be so described by her former brother-in-law.
She will be a fine mother to Sera and Benir. I am ashamed to say that my brother treated her cruelly. I need to ensure her safety, but I would also like to ensure that she will be treated with kindness. You, I trust, can offer her both. I understand that life in a keep is challenging. I believe that with your counsel, Hannelore will learn how to be a true partner to you, mother to your children and ornament of your keep. I do recognize that she will need guidance, but I trust that you will be gentle with her. She will be worth it, I am certain. As soon as I get your assent, I will arrange to get your new bride to Pinnacle Keep. In Honor Alone, G.
The next entry had clearly been written in haste.
General, I freely offer my keep and my hand to the princess. I am sorry to hear that her previous marriage was not a happy one. It is true that discipline in a keep is essential; however, you know that I would never harm any woman, and certainly not my wife. Any needed chastisement only continues until the lesson is learned. Life in a keep can be a challenge even for the most rugged of women. She might find it unbearable. I know my own heart well enough to know that I can never love another woman; however, rest assured that I will treat her and the babe with tenderness and respect. I am privileged to be offered such a sacred trust. In Honor Alone, Jonis
She had paced while reading for a long time. Her arms ached. She was being sent to marry a skilled warrior who believed in punishing his wife, and yet promised to treat her with kindness, although he considered himself to be unable to ever fall in love again. What to make of that? On the table, there was a small draught of bitter-smelling liquid. Willow bark was known to be good for sleep and to soothe achy muscles. She threw it back and nestled into the softness of the mattress. She would let tomorrow deal with tomorrow’s troubles. For now, she and Lilja were safe. She slept dreamlessly.
* * *
The abbess woke her. “It will be dark soon, my lady.”
Hannelore sat up. Lilja was lying on a sheepskin a safe distance from the fire. The baby pushed up with her arms, transfixed by the flames. Hannelore swung herself out of the bed. The young novice who had curtsied earlier was there to help her dress. Over the soft flannel shift, she laced the thick woolen gown. Warm stockings were tied with garters. Boots were laced, and her cloak was wrapped around her. Lilja had been put in a new warmer gown as well. A tiny knitted cap kept her sweet head warm. The new rider was waiting in the courtyard. She turned to genuflect to the abbess. “I thank you, Holy Mother, for myself and for my daughter.”
The abbess patted the younger woman’s cheek. “Thrive, Hanne of the Southlands, for yourself and for all of your children.”
Hannelore was still puzzling over what an odd farewell that was when the rider grasped her firmly, spun his steed, and raced out of the gate into the dark woods. She smiled. Hanne, the much more common variation of her given name, suited her far better. It would be who she was from now on.
They traveled for five days. Riding all night, and stopping to change horses every few hours, had left Hanne feeling bruised and brittle. During the daylight hours, they sheltered at the houses that expected them and offered Hanne and the baby warm clothes and hot food. Hanne would open the leather scroll case fully intending to reread the correspondence and instead fall into an exhausted, fitful sleep.
It was getting colder. Hanne wore several layers now. The sling had been replaced with one lined with two layers of fur; rabbit by Lilja’s tender flesh and thicker beaver fur facing out.
The horse struggled in the thick falling snow. Only the skill of the rider kept them safely upright and saved the frightened horse from injury. It was with tremendous relief that Hanne made out the wall of a cottage. The cottage was nestled into the snow-covered hills and only the glow from its round windows allowed it to be spotted.
The snow was coming down in such sheets that she could barely see the rider’s hand when he dismounted and reached to help her descend. The door was opened suddenly. “Well, hurry up,” the curt voice said. Hanne turned to thank the rider but he had already gone. A hand on her elbow pulled her into the cottage and quickly shut the door. The only light she could see came from the fire. A heavy curtain seemed to divide the room in half. A table with one chair nestled in front of the fire. Her host was a compact man, in worn woolen clothing. He was also not overly inclined to politeness. “Well, don’t be stupid; get your wet things off.”
She looked around unsure where she was to do this. Her host gave a sudden nod of his head toward a ladder nailed to the wall. Hesitatingly, she laid Lilja still wrapped in her furry sling onto a bearskin rug in front of the fire. She rustled in her bag for whatever dry clothes she may have.
“Babe’s fine. Go on, I don’t have time for you to catch a fever in your joints and have bits and pieces coming over with the gangrene.”
Well, no, she had to agree, that would be untimely indeed. She climbed the ladder, noticing for the first time that the gowns Eidit had supplied her with were far shorter than what she was accustomed to. It made sense; a woman who had chores to do would find skirts that flowed onto the floor behind her cumbersome. She reminded herself, You are an escaped convicted murderer, not a princess anymore. The loft was far more commodious than she would have gathered from the unprepossessing downstairs. There was a reasonably sized bed with plain but warm woolen curtains surrounding it. The window was covered by heavy shutters. She wondered if she might be able to get her bearings from this height. Swiveling the clasp to one side, she cracked the shutter open. Frost covered the glass. Using a fingernail, she attempted to shave off a small patch that she could peer through.
“Rock-eating saints of the north! Are you trying to freeze all of us to death?” the voice bellowed from downstairs.
Guiltily, she hastily closed the shutter and hurried to get dressed. Climbing down the ladder was a bit more awkward than climbing up had been.
“Where’s the wet things then?” her host demanded.
“Oh, I… just a moment.” She turned to head back up the ladder.
“Nay, best to get it done before midsummer,” he chided her and with an astonishing agility seemed to bound up the ladder. He had lit a candle and placed it in the middle of the table. “As if we don’t have enough to make ready for,” he muttered to himself as he spread her dress over a rack with its frozen hem closest to the fireplace.
She would normally be mortified to have a man drape her stockings and chemise out to dry, but her current life did not allow for such finicky sensibilities. It was hard to make out many details, even close to the fire. “I don’t know your name,” she began shyly.
His muttering didn’t let up a bit. “Haven’t given it to ya, have I then? Probably won’t eat mushroom soup, oh no, mark my words, she’s a hoity totty.”
“I love mushroom soup and my name is Hanne.”
This seemed to catch him off guard, and he turned suddenly to face her. He was a small man, shorter than she was, with sinewy arms and legs and possessed of a supernatural quickness. His golden beard was long and elaborately braided. “Ragnifer, I am.”
“Well, Ragnifer, I appreciate your hospitality.”
“Polite she is, all shiny and cheery, probably wishes she could stomp on my toes,” he muttered to himself, busy filling two bowls with soup and sawing a less than reputable-looking loaf of bread into planks. “Sit ye down, we don’t run to engraved invitations out here.”
She failed to see any spoons, and she was afraid to ask.
“Well, go on,” he encouraged.
“I’m letting it cool a wee bit; it smells so good I can hardly wait.” This was a lie, but she was very hungry.
“Suit your own self,” he shrugged, and putting a hand on either side of his bowl, lifted it to his lips.
She followed his example. The soup did taste good, rich and earthy. She told him so, and reached for a chunk of the dark grainy bread. He appeared to be softening somewhat under her compliments when she asked, “Do you live here by yourself?”
Ragnifer abruptly got up and stomped over to a keg lying on its side. “Live by meself? By meself? Who does yon magpie think she’s dealing with? Ragnifer of the Tardicus, that’s who!” He filled a stein with beer between voicing his grievances. “As if a Ragnifer would ever be alone in the woods! Princess Rudicus, that’s ‘er.” He managed to drink quite a bit of the foamy liquid.
“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” she offered by way of self-defense. Lilja had startled awake and begun to make unhappy noises. To Hanne’s surprise Ragnifer had the baby lifted up in a trice and was gently bouncing her.
“Well, my sweet fawn, bless me, but you are sweet as a snowberry.”
Lilja seemed to respond to the odd little man with delight, tangling a tiny fist in his beard. Ragnifer roared with laughter at this.
“Does she eat?” he asked.
“Of course, she eats. Oh, wait, no, not food yet.”
“Will you hurry up filling your belly? This little one is light as a sparrow and needs her sustenance.”
Hanne considered pointing out that she had hardly been ignoring a hungry baby, and he was perhaps not an expert on breastfeeding anyway. She swallowed the comment, along with the final slug of her soup and reached for the infant.
He was still not appeased. “Not there! By my antlers! Closer to the fire! She has no meat on her; you’ll freeze her fast as a weasel after a three-legged mouse!”
Arguing with the only other person in what appeared to be a vast forest adrift with shoulder-high snow struck her as a losing game. She dutifully moved the stool closer to the fire and when he did not hand Lilja over, she moved it resolutely even closer to the hearth.
“Better, that will have to do, I s’pose.” While he sipped his beer, she rocked the baby. The sound of an owl hooting startled her. Ragnifer leapt up. He pulled a lead screen from the wall and placed it in front of the fireplace. “Don’t just sit there; it’s bright as blazes in here!” he chided her. Hanne took this as her cue to lean over the table and blow out the singular candle that was alight. The cottage went from dim to pitch dark.
“Don’t dilly dally, get down on the rug.”
She huddled down with the baby. Ragnifer could apparently see in the dark since he confidently stepped over and draped a heavy fur around her. “Won’t be but a tick. You stay warm.”
She couldn’t see the door open, but she definitely felt the blast of the frigid air burning her cheeks. They were alone. She could make out the howling of the wind. Attempts to slow her heart rate down were an utter failure. Amazingly, Lilja did not make a peep.
Hanne crept toward the table on her knees. With the hand that was not around the infant, she slapped around the tabletop until she found the knife. If anyone wanted to hurt them, she would not make it easy for them. The sudden whistle of the wind told her the door was open. Silently she lay her child under the table, wanting to avoid the babe being trod upon during whatever was about to happen. She clenched the knife in her fist so hard that it began to shake. Courage, she thought to herself. Courage. With a soft sliding noise, the lead shield was slid back, allowing the fire to light the room.
“Nay, mama bear, you won’t be needing that tonight,” Ragnifer said. Hanne leaned over the table gasping for breath and laid the knife upon it. “Word reached my friends that a horse was in the woods.” Snow still covered his beard.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“It’s not a rider, just some poor nag that’s wandered far from home. That’s the problem with owls; they don’t go in for details. I had to talk to some more sensible creatures. Thank Gods the wolverines seen it. Those are exacting animals. Never exaggerate, never miss a thing. Don’t mean to be harsh, mind you, an owl will fly through frozen hell if you need them to. Still, only someone who’s never had to speak to one would believe the malarkey about them being wise.”
Hanne stood stock-still. She was in the middle of nowhere, and she was entirely dependent upon a lunatic.
The odd little man hustled closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. “The forest itself is on your side, my doe. We will get you to the wall. Trust ole Ragnifer.”
She did trust the odd little wizened ranger. Clearly, she had taken leave of her senses. He used a piece of brush to light a lantern. He held it for her while she scrabbled up to the loft. By wedging the baby between her chest and the ladder, she was able to climb a step, readjust, and then continue. She lay the baby down and sat with her legs overhanging. Ragnifer scrambled up the ladder and handed her the lantern. The snow had somehow already melted off his beard, leaving it the dark gold color it had been earlier. A scratching at the door caused Hanne to gasp.
“Naught to worry ye.” Ragnifer was at the door with a sudden bound. “Do not scream,” he tossed over his shoulder as he opened the door. Only by clamping a hand over her mouth did Hanne succeed in this. Silently a pack of wolves padded into the cottage and immediately settled into specific spots. There were two in front of the door, one under each window and one followed the woodsman to the ladder and lay down at its foot. “Move aside,” he commanded and she pulled her legs up and backed away.
“Can they climb ladders?” she asked nervously.
He rolled his eyes at her, and in a persnickety voice mimicked her. “Can they climb ladders?” He shook his head derisively and continued, “No, they do not climb ladders, that’s why they are in here and bears are not. A ladder is nothing to a bear.”
“Oh,” was her wholly inadequate response to that. She noticed a hook and hung the lantern from it. He pulled a pallet from under the bed and it filled the room with the smell of sweet grass. “Lilja and I can take that one. We don’t want to chase you out of your bed.”
“Harrumph. You will be glad enough of those curtains, being as thin-blooded as ye are. I never sleep in it anyway—smells of feathers—pah!”
She slipped out of her shoes.
“Well, go on. Get in so’s a body can get ready for bed!” he commanded.
She hurried to comply, turning back the coverlet and laying the baby down. Climbing into bed, she pulled the curtains shut around them. She could hear the telltale signs of Ragnifer pulling off his boots, unlacing his breeches. She gave in to her baser nature and allowed herself to peer out the gap in the curtains. His shirt was long enough to serve as a nightshirt. With bare feet he settled into the bed and pulled the covers up around him.
“Mr. Ragnifer?” she asked
“No mister for me. Ragnifer is alls I am. Ragnifer of the Tardicus.”
“Ragnifer of the Tardicus, I am indebted to you.”
“Pah,” he snorted. “It’s all of a nothing.”
She couldn’t help but notice he had more than a hint of a smile.