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 whilst 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 whilst 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 whilst 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.