ALTDORF (The Forest Knights Book 1)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

ONCE EVERY MONTH Seraina would load up her mule and make the daylong journey into Schwyz. Once there, she would set up in the market, and sell fresh herbs from her garden, or ground up ingredients with her granite mortar and pestle to relieve people’s ailments. After, she would go to the homes of anyone that was too sick or injured to come to her stall in the market. Invariably, someone would offer her a bed or at least a barn full of straw to sleep in for the night. Early the next morning she would begin the trek home to her grove.

But that was not the only time she had contact with the villagers. A few times every month someone would turn up on her doorstep looking for healing, or advice. These were usually men and women whose positions or circumstances made it difficult to seek her out in the public space of the market. Once, even a priest came all the way from Altdorf to see her when a stubborn lesion on his arm refused to scab over and heal. Seraina never refused anyone treatment, and that included Austrian soldiers that came to her stall in the market, although she was careful never to mention this to Noll.

On this day, it was already noon when she set out from Schwyz for home, which meant it would be well past dark by the time she arrived at her cabin. Unless, of course, she took the Brunnen ferry. She smiled, knowing all too well this had been the plan of her private weave all along. She had slept late and tarried at the farm, helping Gertie and her infant daughter feed the chickens and then broke her fast with them before she finally took to the road.

When she reached the crossing, she was disappointed to see no sign of the ferry. But just as she was about to go back to the road, a white sail peeked through the trees, moving steadily towards a small wharf jetting out into the green waters. The long, rectangular barge drifted up to the makeshift dock and a tall man holding a rope leapt gracefully from the ferry and tied it up to a post worn smooth and black. Unfortunately, he was not alone.

Seraina bit her lip as she recognized his passengers, old man Menznau and his wife. The wind was up and the lake simmered with small waves as the couple stepped down gingerly, their legs unaccustomed to fighting the swells.

Seraina pulled the hood of her cloak up and watched from the water’s edge as the old man reached into a sack and pulled out a loaf of dark bread. He handed it to the ferryman and they exchanged a few words, then Menznau and his wife wobbled down the dock. As they came towards her, the old couple made it a point not to look at Seraina, and she felt that if she had been standing on the dock, they may very well have pushed her into the water.

Their son had died recently from the lung sickness. He had been caught stealing and was sentenced to do hard labor on the Altdorf fortress. Seraina had tried to see him, but the soldiers would not let her anywhere near the prisoners. They assured her their own doctor would look after him. He did not, and the only reason the Menznaus learned of the fate of their son, was because a relative found his body mixed with the ever-growing pile of refuse heaped against an outer wall of the fortress.

As the couple passed, she felt their grief surface and flare. Seraina watched their backs, hoping they might turn around and let her try and soothe their pain.

“You wishing to go across? If so we leave now, as I would be back at this dock before nightfall.”