Free Iny Lorentz - The Marie Series 02 by The Lady of the Castle Page B

to get him his legitimate heir.

7.
    Marie woke from a nightmare, unable to shake the pictures from her mind. She had seen Michel in the middle of a bloody battle, surrounded by enemies assailing him. But somehow he had managed to free himself with heavy blows from his sword and put the others to flight. His adversaries, however, hadn’t been Bohemian Hussites but German knights, and the one who had beaten Michel the hardest was Falko von Hettenheim.
    The pictures were as clear as if she had seen them in person, and, as so often was the case lately, she had to remind herself that it was only a dream, probably caused by fear for her beloved husband. She wondered whether she should confide in the castle chaplain, but he would only tell her that demons and hobgoblins were sending her these images, and he would ask her to pray for her and Michel’s salvation. Ever since her unjust conviction by the church and the inhumane treatment she had received from some clergymen, she had been unable to trust a priest. And so she had to deal with her worry and her misgivings on her own, praying to the Mother of God that Michel would survive any dangers and safely return home.
    Trying to ignore the horrible images still dancing in front of her eyes, she lay back down and listened to the beating of her heart as it thumped like a blacksmith’s hammer. Outside, Marga’s stentorian voice was already ushering maids and servants to work, and Marie told herself that she should take care of her duties, too. But as soon as she sat up, an intense wave of nausea shot through her body, and she barely managed to lean over the side of the bed before vomiting. Her stomach emptied itself in painful waves, and it was a while before she could perch on the edge of the bed, shaking and sweating, without being gripped by the urge to retch.
    Marie was still fighting nausea when someone knocked on the door. Managing only a choked response, she dragged herself over and opened it. In front of her stood Marga, looking at her deathly pale mistress with annoyance and sniffing the air like a dog picking up a scent. The sour smell of vomit directed her gaze to the jug of wine on a side table, and she had to suppress a contemptuous grin. Apparently her mistress had enjoyed more wine the previous night than was good for her.
    Too miserable to notice the scornful gleam in her housekeeper’s eyes and embarrassed she hadn’t even been able to vomit into the chamber pot, Marie asked Marga kindly to send up a maid to take the soiled rug to be washed.
    Marga pointed to the rug with her chin. “I don’t think the stain will come out.”
    Marie nodded dejectedly. Just then, her handmaid walked up the stairs. “Oh, Ischi, could you please take the rug from next to my bed to the washhouse? I got sick and soiled it.”
    Ischi rolled up the rug and carried it out. As soon as she had left the room, two young maids entered, filling the washtub with fresh water and arranging linen towels. They greeted their mistress with a shy smile and left as silently as they had come, but Marie could hear them chattering excitedly on the stairs. The two of them were ecstatic to be able to work in the castle, but Marga’s tyrannical rule was so intimidating, they didn’t dare lift their head and look at the mistress of the castle. Marie had wanted to get to know the girls better in order to find out which of them would be suitable as Ischi’s successor, but she was too preoccupied with other worries at the moment. After washing herself, since Ischi was busy, she picked out her own clothes and dressed without help. Though she still felt slightly ill when she left her chamber to go to the kitchen, she hoped she’d feel better after eating something. But when she saw the breakfast porridge, her stomach turned again, and she pushed the bowl away without having tried a spoonful.
    The cook gave her mistress an offended look. But Marie didn’t pay her any attention and hurried out of the room,