Page 63 of With You Here
Christyne trembled beneath the weight of Kampff’s hand. She glanced to the side, and her gaze slammed into blue orbs. None of the fear she felt coursing through her body shone out of Lorenz’s eyes. Instead, he stared at her with a quiet inner peace, connecting them in that moment, with that look, and imbuing her with his strength and conviction.
He did not fight the landsknecht who twisted his arm, gripping the skin until the flesh turned white beneath the soldier’s fingers. Would he not struggle, a lamb to the slaughter?
Christyne’s muscles tensed around her bones, ready to strike. To run. But Kampff’s hold was like a vice. A predator refusing to release his prey.
Her feet stumbled beneath her. If not for that grip, she would have pitched forward and landed with her face upon the cobblestone, but she could not say she was thankful for the assistance, even then.
The revelry changed around them as they passed through the crowd. Before them, the people laughed and cheered, celebrating the union of two great families through marriage. In their wake, the crowd quieted. Murmured wonderings at the groom’s daughter being marched toward the castle like a criminal to an executioner.
For though they were unbound by ropes or chains, she and Lorenz were no longer free.
What would become of them? Would her father show mercy for his own flesh and blood, or would he make good his promise to rid his lands of all those who thought to bring reform to the Church?
A low din filled the great hall, the cacophony of many voices, each trying to rise above their neighbors’. Tables swelled with food. Roasted venison and lamb. Wild hare and swans. Chalices overflowed with amber liquid and clinked as they resettled upon the tops of the table.
“The heretics have been found!” Kampff shouted as he shoved Christyne into the middle of the merriment.
Her knees hit the hard ground, jarring her bones as her palms slid across the rushes. The inside of her cheek caught between her teeth, a metallic taste exploding across her tongue as she swallowed down her own blood.
Her breath filled her ears, drowning out the noises around her until they were a low hum. Yesterday a princess, today treated like an animal on all fours. She was awash in a swirling pool of differing emotions. Embarrassment. Anger. Fear. But beneath them all, at the center, lay an unearthly serenity that she could not explain, for the feeling did not come from her. Yet another gift from the Heavenly Father.
Gentle fingers embraced her upper arm. Offered her strength where her own muscles quivered.
“We are not alone,” Lorenz whispered as he helped her to her feet. His thumb caressed her skin with a gentle stroke before he let his hand drop.
They were not. Just as their Lord was with the three Hebrews in the fiery furnace, He was with them. Their end may not have the same miraculous result, but whatever the outcome, may it be for His glory.
She closed her eyes and allowed her muscles to uncoil. Like a wildflower bending in the breeze, she submitted to whatever the Lord would have happen here in this place. Her spine remained straight, but she lost the rigidity that bound her muscles. Though accused, she would not stand before these people afraid.
Not when God was by her side.
“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ernst bellowed. “Herzog Kampff, I hope you can explain yourself and your mistreatment of my daughter.”
“My treatment of this heretic is more than she deserves,” he sneered in reply.
The prince’s eye ticked, and he stared at Christyne as he addressed the duke. “What say you?”
“She has been seduced by the words of this heretic for whom we have been searching.” Kampff nodded to his soldier, who then kicked Lorenz in the back of the knees, dropping him to the ground.
Shouts of outrage filled the hall. Bishop Wilmer rose from his seat, thunderclouds eclipsing his face. Prince Ernst stayed the bishop with a motion of his hand, but given the chance, Christyne was sure the man of the church would build a pyre with his own two hands on which to burn them.
“Have you proof?” Her father set his regard upon her once more.
Did she detect concern in his eyes? His gaze flicked away from her, to Clare at his side, and his brow furrowed. He did not think her responsible, did he? Surely his vexation would not turn to his new bride as well.
Christyne refused to look at Clare lest she bring even more attention to that woman. Even so, she caught the glistening of tears upon Clare’s cheeks.
A wedding should be a day to remember. But not for this.
Nay, never for this.
“Better than proof.” Kampff preened. “I have a witness.” He flicked his wrist and two landsknechte stepped forth from the shadows, a third person between them. They dragged the body into the middle of the room and dumped him on the ground. A moan escaped his lips.
A shrill cry sounded from a corner before the flurry of motion pressed to the center. Hette dropped to her knees, pulling the man’s head to her lap.
Nikolaus?
Christyne peered closer. So mangled and disfigured was the man that his features were difficult to decipher. But, aye, he had Nikolaus’s long nose, though now bent at a crooked angle. And Nikolaus’s height and build, though now he seemed more a shell than a man.
