Page 4 of The Piper's Pursuit

“People believe so, because several children have been taken from inside the town walls. But often it’s attacked those outside the town walls, people who farm small plots of land or have gone to visit families in the countryside.”

Steffan listened to everything the innkeeper had to say about the Beast of Hamlin, but when he started to talk about other things, Steffan’s mind wandered back to the reward.

He must kill this beast.

It was just the sort of noble feat that could bring him glory, get his name into a popular ballad sung by the troubadours and Minnesingers or his likeness onto a church mural or stained glass window. The story would be told everywhere, including Hagenheim. Then he wouldn’t be ashamed to go home again and face his father.

For a year he’d been on a quest for adventure, treasure to discover, or any task that might earn him money—except what he had done in Poland, which was to fight and kill someone else’s enemy. His most recent quest had been to save two pigs that had fallen into an old well, which he had accomplished after many hours of effort. His reward had been a hot meal and a bed to sleep in.

It seemed good deeds and money seldom went hand-in-hand. The last real coin he’d earned had been from playing his pipe in a harvest festival at least a month ago.

His family was very musical, as his father played the lute and most of his siblings sang and played various instruments. Steffan found his pipe useful for entertaining himself and his fellow soldiers. Now that he was traveling alone, it helped distract him when his thoughts wandered to unwanted places.

But if he could succeed in slaying this man-eating beast, his father would surely hear of it. Perhaps that would make up for all the bad things he had done. And perhaps then Steffan wouldn’t feel as if he were the least of all his brothers—the one bad apple in the Gerstenberg family tree.

***

Katerina watched the townspeople hurrying home before dusk turned to night. No one seemed to notice her or the child in her arms who was covered in dust and grime.

Hans came running down the street toward them with a man by his side. The man’s face was pinched and tense, almost as if he were in pain. His gaze landed on Bridda. He cried out and ran faster, pulling ahead of Hans.

He was crying when he reached them, his face twisted, as he reached out his hands toward her.

The child hesitated, but only for a moment. Her little hands extended, her eyes brightened, and she said, “Papa.”

Bridda’s father plucked her from Katerina’s arms, clutching her tenderly to his chest. Sobs erupted from his throat, but he quickly pressed his lips together and held her out so he could look at her.

“Oh, my littleSchätzchen. It is a miracle.”

Tears welled up in Katerina’s eyes at the joyful reunion. Her chest ached as she whispered, “Thank You, God.”

The father was still gazing hungrily into his daughter’s face. “Are you well? Are you hungry? Are you hurt?”

Bridda patted his cheeks with her little grimy fingers. He grabbed them and kissed them.

“Mama.”

“She is home. I shall take you to her. Shall I?”

Bridda nodded, still keeping her eyes pinned on her father’s face, as if he might disappear if she looked away.

He kissed her cheek. Then, over Bridda’s head, his teary eyes met Katerina’s. “I thank you, Fräulein. How did you find her?”

“I was outside the wall, just now. She simply walked out of the forest.”

“I thank God, thank God. But where has she been?”

“I don’t know. Hans”—Katerina motioned at the tall guard—“will you walk with Johannes and Bridda back to their home?” While Johannes was talking to his daughter, she leaned closer to Hans. “Come back and tell me where they live. And tell him I shall come to them tomorrow, to ask questions.”

“Yes, Fräulein Katerina.”

Katerina watched them leave and took a deep breath. It truly was a miracle that the girl was found alive, but Katerina wondered again at the mystery of where she had been and how she had avoided being killed by the beast.

As she stood waiting for Hans to return, she noticed an unfamiliar man on horseback riding at a slow walk through the town gate. There was something about his face—relaxed and yet sharp-eyed—that caught her eye. He might also be considered quite good-looking, sitting tall in the saddle of his large warhorse, but when his gaze met hers, his expression changed and his lips curled upward. She would have sworn he was thinking,You find me handsome, don’t you?

How she detested arrogant men.

She gave him her sternest look and turned away from him. Now that she thought about it, he wasn’t so handsome after all. She preferred short dark hair and brown eyes, and his hair was long and blond, his eyes also a light color, probably blue or green. She couldn’t tell from this distance. Not that she cared. She only hoped he was astute enough to understand she was not interested.