Free There Will Be Wolves by Karleen Bradford

both hands to Ursula. “I would that there had been some other way of saving you.”
      *  *  *  
    The next day Ursula’s father started fussing the moment she awoke. He had been summoned to Count Emil and ordered to bring Ursula with him. It seemed that the count wanted to see this “witch” himself. Ursula was none too pleased with the tone of the message, but there was nothing to do but obey.
    “We are invited to break fast with the count,” Master William said. “It is a great honor. Do hurry, Daughter, and make yourself presentable.” The main meal of the morning would be just before noon of the day.
    When they were ready, they left the hut and walked toward the front entrance of the great house. Ursula steeled herself not to feel intimidated, but that was impossible. The size of the house alone was enough to frighten the boldest of people. She had no idea at all of what awaited her inside.
    They were stopped at the door by a suspicious servant, but after giving their names they were led into an enormous dining hall. Ursula tried not to gape, although the magnificence around her was hard to ignore. Even the entrance to the hall was huge. Massive stone pillars rose on either side ofthem, intricate mosaic tiling—reminiscent of the Roman villas from which the building materials had been scavenged—covered the floor. As the servant spoke to them, his voice echoed in spite of the tapestries and hangings that covered the walls.
    The dining hall itself was even more grand. At one end stretched a long trestle table. Ursula could see the count and his lady seated there, with lesser nobles and friends to either side of him. Other long tables filled the room. As they entered, the count glanced up. He signaled them to draw near.
    Master William swept off his cloth cap and held it in front of him as he approached the table. He seemed to shrink into himself as he got closer.
    I am not frightened, Ursula thought defiantly. She held herself as tall as she could and walked with a steady step toward the count, chin high in the air. But, in spite of herself, she flushed as she realized that the people in the crowd around them were whispering, nudging each other, and pointing at them.
    Even when sitting, the count gave an impression of dangerous strength. His hair was silvery gray, and he wore it long. His hands played constantly, nervously with the knife on the table in front of him. He seemed to be holding himself in—holding an immense reserve of energy in check. Ursula almost imagined him tensed tospring at any moment. It was his eyes, however, that caught her. They were a very pale blue, almost gray, and they fixed on Ursula with a peculiar intensity.
    “My lord,” Master William said with a small bow, “you do us great honor.”
    “So this is your daughter, then?” the count answered, never taking those eyes from Ursula’s face.
    It took every bit of Ursula’s willpower not to drop her own.
    “Draw near, girl.”
    Ursula stood her ground defiantly. Her father turned, flustered, and would have pushed her forward, but Ursula stood fast.
    “I said, draw near. I would inspect more closely the witch who is to accompany us on our holy Crusade.”
    Ursula’s hands clenched. She drew a deep breath. “I am no witch.”
    There was a gasp throughout the room. The stuffing and cramming of food into mouths ceased momentarily.
    “You were tried and sentenced by the archbishop himself,” the count answered smoothly. “Do you dare dispute the findings of the church? The church that, in its mercy, has allowed you the opportunity to redeem your sins?”
    “I dispute nothing, but I know I am not a witch. I am a healer.”
    The gasp grew into a murmur that swept through the room. The count frowned.
    “Master William, it seems your daughter has learned nothing. Witch or not, the sin of pride spews out with every word she utters. Might it be I have erred in offering this salvation to her?” Although he spoke to her