Chapter 27: How the Isebrands Get a Head Ache

Hildburg Isebrand woke with a start. Her eyes, accustomed to the pitch black of the night, made out the faint grey that filtered through the heavy curtains. With an effort, she recalled where she was, in a tavern in Schoenberg, in the alcove of a sleeping chamber.

She was feeling warm and relaxed, her back snuggled comfortably against her husband's front, and she felt his maleness press into the cleft of her behind. She felt his even breathing at the skin of her neck, moving a few loose strands of her hair and tickling her skin lightly. She almost purred in her delight.

A heartbeat later, guilt washed over her. She was lying in the arms of the ferocious beast she had felt compelled to marry. This had been her sacrifice, for the city of her birth, to atone for her parents' fateful wrongdoing. She was not supposed to feel warm and cosy in his arms. She was certainly not supposed to press her backside lewdly against his stiff member. She was not supposed to have sinful thoughts about that man!

"Are you awake, my wife?"

She almost jumped out of her skin at the unexpected sound, and she felt the soothing touch of his hand on her shoulder.

"Ssh! I didn't mean to frighten you. You were cold in the night, so I took you in my arms, to warm you. Does that bother you?"

Hildburg shook her head and freed herself from his arm. She sat up and looked down at the face of the huge man at her side.

"No and yes," she answered. "I am confused. I am not bothered by your closeness, by your embrace, and that bothers me. I thought I was making the ultimate sacrifice by marrying you, to save Warnesund from the destruction your siblings would have wrought if the Mayor had you beheaded. But now, it does not feel like a sacrifice anymore. Your brothers and sisters have shown me so much kindness, and you, of all people, have been caring and kind to me. This bothers me! It's not a sacrifice when I feel warm and cared for. But if it's not a sacrifice, it is sinful. You murdered my family! I must not feel what I feel in your arms!"

"Would you rather we treated you harshly, Hildburg?" Joerg asked softly. "Would you that I threw you on the floor, to have my way with you by brute force?"

"I would hate that, but it would lessen my guilt." She stared at him intently. "You asked me, yesterday, if there was something between Birte and me. I lied. There is something. She had you when I couldn't. I was jealous of her, and I still am. I felt for you, strongly, when I saw you visiting my father, accompanying your lieu tenant. I cried bitter tears when I thought you had been killed in the market place, with all the others. I hated my parents, believing that they had you killed. And then, when you came to kill them, you left me behind, to escape with Birte!"

Joerg sat up, too, looking at her incredulously.

"You felt for me? Hildburg, whenever I spoke to you, you averted your face. I thought you scorned me, I thought you were aloof."

"Aloof? Me? I was shy and tongue tied whenever I saw you, and I felt rejected whenever you picked up Birte and took her to the storage room. I saw that, and it tore my soul apart!"

Joerg covered his face with his hands and groaned. His voice was muffled when he answered.

"I had no idea, believe me. I fancied you, when I first saw you, but you would barely speak to me. I was young and stupid, and I took the easy road with Birte. What a mess!"

"You fancied me?"

"Of course! You were so pretty, it made my heart stop!" He stopped and looked at her. "Hildburg, we did not have a chance, back then. Think of it! Would your father have allowed me to court you? Me, an uncouth landsknecht? The third son of a freeholder peasant? Never!"

Hildburg looked dismayed.

"Of course, you're right. It was fruitless," she said dejectedly.

She flinched when he held up her face by her chin.

"It was, but it isn't now. The way things turned out, as bad as they were, was the only way for us to ever be together. We are man and wife now. Give us a little more time, to get to know each other. I care for you already. I can see how this will be more difficult for you. I will be patient. I only ask you to try to see me, not the 'Butcher of Warnesund'. That man does not really exist. Will you try to see me as I am?"

"I have to, I think," she replied. She gave him a twisted smile. "I gave my vow, too."

"And will you allow me to keep you warm in cold nights?"

Again, Hildburg stared at him, trying to read his face. It was difficult, with the long curly hair and the bushy beard which covered most of his features, giving him a savage look.

"Will you please have your hair and beard trimmed? I can hardly see your face. How can I get to know you when all I see is hair?"

Joerg smiled at her.

"That is but a small sacrifice to please my Lady. Do you want to do it? I have seen a scissors on the linen trunk outside. Let me get it."

He was out of the alcove in a heartbeat. He returned immediately, pulling open the curtain. It was getting light, outside. He proffered her the scissors and sat on a stool. Accepting the challenge, Hildburg rose, too, and, taking the scissors, she stood behind Joerg.

She took the comb, first, bringing order into his sleep-tousled hair. Then, she gauged the length she had to cut off, planning to leave his hair at almost shoulder length. She saw him flinch a little, when the first strands of hair floated to the floor, and she had to smile. He showed her trust with this, she realised. Carefully, she continued to shorten his curly mane. When the length was right, three fingers below his chin line, she thinned the remaining hair, as her aunt had taught her. When she was satisfied, she combed out the hair once more.

Next, she started to trim his beard. She decided to trim the length to two finger widths, using her own fingers as measure. When she started on the long, braided moustache, he took a deep breath, but he held still, as she trimmed the moustache to one finger width. Finished, she stood before him, hands on her hips, and examining her handiwork. He looked so much better, and less fearsome.

With a pang of guilt, she realised that his wild outward appearance had indeed been intended to induce fear. He was a soldier, after all. She shrugged. What was done was done. There was still enough about him to be scary, she thought. Like that awe inspiring thing that stiffly pointed at her, from his groin. She looked at it with newly formed interest.

"Does it ever go soft?" she asked, pointing at his member.

Joerg smiled at her.

"Not when you stand in front of me in just a shirt."

"You mean, you feel desire for me?" she asked.

"It is obvious, isn't it," he smiled wryly. "We had better dress, pretty wife of mine. Bjoern will be anxious to get started."

"Who of you is the leader?" Hildburg asked. "Each of you seems to be in charge."

Joerg laughed.

"Bjoern is the head of our family. By rights, I should have obtained his approval, before I married you. In military matters, I am, for I have been a soldier longer than the others. When we organise matters, like billeting or victualling, that is where Thorben is in the lead, for he is good at this. In difficult decisions, we tend to listen to Katherine, for she is the smartest of us, and a good soldier to boot. And in all matters, we listen to Nele, for we all love her and try to please her."

Hildburg shook her head.

"This is all confusing to me. Where do I fit in?"

"You grew up a merchant's daughter. Now that we own lands and have tenants, we can use your knowledge of trading for our advantage."

Hildburg shook her head in dismay.

"I was never allowed to meddle in the men's affairs. I know how to embroider and how to make lace, I learned how to launder linen and wool, how to mend and patch."

Joerg took hold of her hand.

"Then you will be perfect to oversee my house, and make sure that the servants do all those tasks right. Don't worry about such matters too much. Now dress, before temptation overcomes my consideration."

The smile was on Hildburg's face without her being aware of it. She actually felt pride that Joerg was obviously attracted to her. They both dressed, and Hildburg's lifted mood continued all through breakfast, causing amused grins from her husband's siblings.

The bath of the evening before had helped to alleviate the pain in her legs, but when she mounted her mare again, she realised that her backside was still tender. The easy pace they adopted was helpful, though, and Hildburg began to find enjoyment in riding her horse.

By evening, they reached Ratzeburg, and Hildburg admired the tall cathedral. Travelling with twenty armed men, the Isebrands saw fit to announce their presence to the Count of Ratzeburg and to ask for his leave to spend the night. Hearing that the Countess of Nassau and the Baroness of Erlenburg were visiting, the Count invited them to a hastily arranged dinner.

Fortunately, they found a trader in clothing, to replace Joerg's badly damaged coat and trousers, and to find a dress for Hildburg. Nele and Katherine had brought appropriate dresses, and they looked noble enough, marching into the Count's great hall, on the arms of their older brothers. After introductions were made, the Count wanted to hear all about the events in Warnesund. He was very relieved that the affair had played out without bloodshed.

Next, they had to recount the Sack of Rome. The Count, a stout Lutheran, took great delight in hearing about the humiliation the Cardinals and other church princes had suffered, and he ordered more and better wine be brought from the cellars, to toast the valiant people who had reduced the "Roman Whore", as Protestants had come to call the Holy Sea.