Page 5 of The Piper's Pursuit

But the clopping of his horse’s hooves on the cobblestone street behind her grew louder. Still, she refused to turn around and look at him. She had no time to waste on this stranger. Her mind was on Bridda and solving the mystery of where she’d been for the last five months. Tomorrow she would question both the parents and Bridda, if the parents would allow it.

“If you please, Fräulein,” a male voice said behind her.

Katerina turned to see the arrogant stranger sitting atop his horse, looking down on her.

She glared at him.

“I am in search of theBürgermeisterof Hamlin.”

Katerina looked him over. Why did he want to speak to the mayor? This stranger did not wear the clothing of a nobleman. He could possibly be a knight, though he wore none of the trappings—no mail shirt or colors or quilted gambeson. But perhaps that could be attributed to the fact that the summer air this day had been so hot.

“This is Hamlin town, is it not?”

“It is.” She studied him a moment longer. He did not have a vicious look, but one could never be too careful.

“I said, could you tell me where I might find the Bürgermeister?” He spoke each word deliberately. His brows drew together and now he was frowning.

Good. She had annoyed him. “He’s probably at his home, as it is nearly suppertime.”

“And do you know the location of his house?”

“I should. I am going there myself.”

Just then she saw Hans walking toward her, though he was still many steps away.

The stranger sat a little taller in the saddle. “I am Steffan of Hagenheim. And I would be much obliged if you would allow me to accompany you there.”

Did he think he was entitled to her deference just because he was from Hagenheim, the seat of power for this region? At least his tone was respectful, though there was an edge to it, as if he were still annoyed but trying to hide it.

“Very well.”

Hans reached her then and leaned close to her ear. In a low voice, he told her where to find little Bridda’s house. She thanked him, and he went back to his post at the gate.

Katerina started walking toward her home, then glanced over her shoulder at Steffan of Hagenheim. The glance was the only invitation he would get, so he’d better take it.

Two

Steffan gazed down at the wavy-haired beauty. Her attitude was as unruly as her hair, and there was a spark in her blue eyes. He was intrigued, as he couldn’t remember a young woman treating him with so much contrariness—other than his sisters.

He followed her down the street after she turned her crossbow-laden back to him. Was she a hunter? A young woman carrying a crossbow might have struck him more strangely had he not recently spent time with his brother and sister-in-law, both of whom were lauded and famous for fighting in the recent liberation of Poland from the Teutonic Knights.

This rather tall girl, with her wild hair and even wilder expression, looked as if she could take on a few knights herself—and win.

He wished he’d asked her name. She walked with a sway that was both confident and feminine. Most women who held their heads that high were aristocratic, wore embroidered silk clothing, and were fine-boned and dainty. This girl looked quite sturdy and wore the clothing of a poor laborer’s daughter.

Surely she had not been out hunting, not with the Beast of Hamlin on the loose.

Steffan had been to Hamlin when he was a young boy, so the streets seemed vaguely familiar. The town, in fact, was closely connected to his family, and reminded him so much of Hagenheim that it caused a pang to shoot through his middle.

He wasn’t that far away now—only two or three days’ ride. After he killed the Beast of Hamlin, he’d go back, even though he’d have to see his parents’ disappointment in him, and that thought stirred up the old angry feeling that made him want to do something stupid like defy his father’s wishes and join with the Teutonic Knights. But he had to face his father’s disapproval sooner or later, and he knew he deserved it, even if it did still make him angry.

His thoughts were suddenly redirected by a sight he’d never seen before—a herd of rats moving down the street, streaming into an alleyway up ahead. They roiled as they crawled and tumbled over each other, making faint screeching sounds, mingling with the collective clicking of their tiny claws on the cobblestones.

A man walking into the path of the rats suddenly cried out and started to back away. The rats reached him before he could escape, engulfing his feet as he cried out again, lifting one foot then the other. Steffan held his breath, too far away to help the man as he tried to walk on top of the rats. When he lifted one foot, a rat hung by its teeth from his ankle.

The man flailed his arms, running as best he could. He was nearly out of the teeming rats when he fell to his knees amidst the furry bodies. He jumped up and ran some more, until he finally disappeared down an open street.

On the vermin came.