This one is good for gout… and this one will help a barren woman conceive… and this one…
But even though Rahel was thirteen now and almost a woman herself, her father had forbidden her to have anything more to do with Lechsinska. The healer had acted as midwife during Holleb’s birth: a birth their mother hadn’t survived. Rahel didn’t blame the old woman. She understood that herbs and knowledge could only do so much, but her father had been so devastated by the loss of his wife that he accused Lechsinska of killing her with witchcraft, and delivering unto him not a son, but a demon in the form of a human infant. He cast Lechsinska out of his home, buried his wife and then intended to slay Holleb, but Rahel stood up to her father and said that if he killed her brother, he would have to kill her, too. And for a moment, she thought he would, but then he turned away from her, walked to the straw-filled pallet that had once been his marriage bed, lay down alone and cried.
From that day on, he would have nothing to do with Holleb or Rahel. Oh, he made certain there was enough food for them—even goat’s milk for the baby—but he would barely look at either of them, let alone talk to them. Rahel tended to her brother and told herself that her father would return to his former self once his grief ran its course, but as the days turned to weeks and then months with little improvement on his part, she was no longer so sure.
With no older siblings, grandmothers or aunts to turn to, Rahel become both sister and mother to Holleb. She had cared for the little one as best she could, and though it hadn’t been easy, she was happy to do it, not only because she loved her brother but because he was all she had left of her mother.
So when he had come down with the croup in the middle of the night, she had bundled him up and gone outside, leaving her father sleeping in their cottage. Despite the dangers the night held, they held far less terror for her than the thought of losing her brother.
She continued along the path to Lechsinska’s hut, almost running, when a figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped onto the trail, blocking her way. She gasped and only just managed to stop before bumping into the man—if indeed it was a man.
“Good evening to you, child.” The man’s voice was soft and kind, but with a mocking edge that frightened Rahel. “What brings you to the forest at such a late hour?”
Rahel was too scared to speak, but then Holleb answered for her with one of his barking coughs.
“Ah, taking the little one to see a healer, I wager. Surely he can’t be your child, though. You are too young. A brother, perhaps?”
The best Rahel could manage was a nod, and though it was dark and she could not make out the stranger’s features, for some reason she knew he could see her just fine.
Holleb coughed once more.
“I can see how badly the little one needs medicine, so I won’t keep you much longer. I am searching for the encampment of a man named Alexander. I am confident that he is in this part of the country, but I am unsure as to his exact location. Have you heard anything about him, or if not him specifically, about a group of knights that has come to Livonia?”
Rahel tried to reply, but her mouth was dry as dirt and she could not speak.
Holleb coughed again, and the man stepped forward and placed his hand over the baby’s mouth.
“If you do not answer me, I’ll make sure the whelp never coughs again.”
Rahel found her voice then. “Please, sir! Do not hurt my little brother! I’ll—I’ll do anything you ask!” She had a good idea what a strange man might want from a young girl he encountered in the forest at night, and while the thought frightened her, she was determined to do whatever it took to safeguard her brother’s life.
The man removed his hand and Holleb took in a wheezing breath. She expected the baby to begin crying from fear, but he merely whimpered, too sick and exhausted to do more.
“Very well. I promise that I shall not harm the child. If you tell me what I want to know.”
“My father is a woodcutter. A week ago we took a wagonload of wood to the village of Kolya. Some of the men there were talking about a group of Christian knights that had made camp a day’s ride west of the village.”
“And what did they say about these knights?”
“Some feared that they came here to force us to worship their god at swordpoint. Others said that the knights do not walk in the light of day, that they are demons who have come to plague our land.”
“And what do you think? Are they demons?” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
She shrugged. “Men tell many stories.”
The man leaned his face close to hers. Despite the darkness, she could make out his sharp teeth.
“Some of the stories they tell are true.”
When Rikard was finished with the girl, he dropped her lifeless body to the ground and continued along the trail. He intended to find the girl’s home, slay her father and take their horse—for surely they had one to draw their wagonload of wood when they went to the village.
Ever since leaving the tribal camp, Rikard had been traveling by foot. He would’ve taken one of the tribe’s horses, but knowing how much Qarakh valued the animals, Rikard feared they might come after him. Now he was tired of walking and eager to reach Alexander’s camp and see what sort of deal he might be able to work out
