Chapter One ~ God Wills It

With a loud crack the sword came down onto a helm already knocked askew by an earlier blow. The helm flew off and the wearer staggered and nearly lost his feet.

"Ho, valiantly done!" the fifteen-year-old Elisabeth von Winterkirche called from her perch on the wooden fence.

Her twin brother Elias made a mock bow. "I thank you, my lady."

"You always take his side," the other boy, Albrecht, who, like Elias, was squire to Sigismund von Winterkirche, the twins' father.

"He's a better fighter than you are," she stated emphatically.

"And better looking, too," Elias quipped. He preened, stroking the barest shadow of beard growing on his chin.

"I will concede that point," the shorter, darker boy said. Elias looked up at him with that funny knowing smile that irritated his sister so. It just did not seem to fit.

Albrecht leaned to pick up his helm and put it back on his head. "If this damned thing had straps, it wouldn't come off so easily."

Elias let out a bark of derisive laughter. "Oh, is that why I keep knocking it off. It's not my mighty and well-delivered blows. It's the lack of straps." He lifted his chin and waved his fingers at his own throat. "Look, no straps here either. But my helm is sitting securely on my head."

Albrecht muttered something that made Elisabeth burst out laughing.

"What did he say?" her brother demanded.

"He said your swelled head fills it so much it is stuck," she explained.

Elias took a stance with his wooden sword tilted up from his right side. "Have at me, varlet. I shall not brook such ignoble insults!"

The two hefted their small shields and began to move in a counterclockwise circle, each looking for openings in the other boy's defenses. Elisabeth, unlike most girls, did not watch the practice fighting for her own entertainment. She watched each move while imagining herself in combat, detecting as best she could what each opponent was trying to do, what might work better, and what she would try given the chance. Those chances did come, for the twins had been each other's only companion through their father's absences and mother's frequent illness. Only when Albrecht came to serve at Winterkirche did Elias have anyone else to practice fighting with him. She itched to get in on this fight, but contented herself for now just critiquing the boys' own moves.

Each had his practice sword up and held parallel to the upper edge of his shield. She had long known that a fighter had to keep his sword up above the level of his opponent's shield if he had any hope of striking a blow on anything but the shield. That was not without its utility, if one could deliver a hard enough blow to knock the shield askew. Elias and Albrecht knew each other's skills well enough not to waste effort on this move. They circled each other looking for a headshot.

Elias, the taller, repeatedly brought the sword swinging around to strike Albrecht's shoulder or head, but Albrecht managed over and over to raise his shield enough to block the blow or to meet sword with sword, resulting in the sharp thwack of the blows. Elias constantly pressed forward, making Albrecht retreat. Elisabeth pressed her lips tightly together with impatience. Elias's greatest flaw was that he was all forward motion, aggression, and not enough defense. If only Albrecht would use that against him. Elias got in some bruising blows on the shorter boy's right arm. Elisabeth mentally registered the point but the fighters did not pause.

"Oh, for God's sake," she finally cried, jumping down from the fence. "This is getting tedious. Let me fight him."

The boys stopped and stared at her. "Fight whom?" her brother asked.

"You, Elias. Albrecht just lets you chase him around the yard. Give me your weapon."

Albrecht looked at Elias. "Go ahead. She won't break anything," Elias said, rolling his eyes.

Elisabeth let Albrecht slip the shield onto her right arm, his helm on her head and finally hand her the wooden sword.

The siblings took their fighting stances. Elisabeth let Elias come forward, backing up as he fully expected she would. When he seemed to put all his force into the motion, she stopped retreating and came at him raining blows every place she could. He was startled at first, but regained his stability. He hauled off and gave her a bruising whack on the hip. She dropped to her knees but did not concede.

Elias grinned at her. He widened his stance and took a step forward. She lifted her sword as if to swing around and catch him right of his sword where one elbow had appeared. He laughed and moved so his shield was up and between them. She let her sword go back around and come up from below. His unprotected groin received all the might she could muster.

He staggered back his mouth wide open but no sound issuing forth. He collapsed to his knees, dropping his sword and shield. He put his leather gauntleted hands to his groin and toppled over sideways.

Elisabeth lifted her arms and crowed with triumph. She danced around in place, chanting, "Yes, yes, yes!" When she looked around again she saw Albrecht kneeling by her brother, his arms out at his sides at a loss how to help him.

"He'll live to suffer worse blows than that," came a deep male voice from behind her. She turned to look at Elias's and Albrecht's sword master, Dagobert. "Just let him lie there a bit, and give him small sips of this." He reached out a water skin to Albrecht. He turned to the girl. "Madam, you take advantage of how much he underestimates you. If you were not his sister, he would decimate you."

She scowled at him.

"And you put me in a difficult position. Your mother has begged me to discourage your interest in fighting." He looked at where Albrecht was helping Elias to sit up. "Speaking of your mother, she wants you both. She has had a messenger."

The twins found Adalberta in her solar. She sat in a window embrasure with her embroidery in her lap, her eyes closed and her head back against the frame of the window. She looked as drained as ever. For all her protests that she was feeling stronger, neither of her children could ever see evidence of it. She heard them come in and opened her eyes. She straightened and tried to make it look like she had been busily stitching. As little interest as Elisabeth had in such things, she could see there had been no progress on the altar cloth in at least two days.

"My darlings, I have the happiest of news! I have had word from your father. The Lombards have let the Imperial party cross their land. The four year exile is over!"

The joyful look on their mother's face was not feigned. The two young people hurried forward to kneel at her feet. "Oh, Mother, at long last!" Elisabeth gushed.

"I know it has been very hard on you, my dears, to be without your father. And Elias, I know you have taken it hard not to have the chance to leave home to squire in another household. I will never stop being grateful that you agreed to stay here with me, especially at first when I was so ill."

The twins managed to hide the shared knowledge that their mother had never in their memory been anything but ill. "Is father coming home soon?" the boy asked.

"He must go with the Emperor's army to Cologne, then he and his household knights and men will come south to us. In a few days, maybe more. But after all this time I think we can wait patiently."

Elisabeth pressed one of her mother's hands against her cheek. "Oh, no we can't," she laughed.

Elisabeth cursed like one of the grooms as she tugged the hem of her skirt from the bramble where it was caught. "Damn, if I could just wear britches like Elias and Albrecht I shouldn't have to deal with skirts!"

It was her constant refrain of late. "I wish I was a boy." Boys could learn to use weapons, boys could climb trees, boys could go off for hours and wander in the countryside, and boys did not have to sit still in Mother's solar and learn excruciatingly dull needlework.

She knew her twin brother, Elias, was not far. He and his fellow squire, Albrecht, had given her the slip earlier that afternoon and gone off with their bows to their favorite patch of woods. Elisabeth was becoming weary of this phase in Elias's life. For months she had found her brother spending more and more time with his friend and leaving her behind. Her mother told her it was natural, and that soon she would be more interested in ladies' concerns as her brother was in men's. "Balls," she muttered under her breath, delighted at her own audacity.

Now she thought, "Serve him right if he misses Father's homecoming. He knew Father's party was expected today. Where is he?" she wondered as she pushed her way through the scrub.

As she rounded the edge of a small coppice of trees, she thought she saw movement. "There they are!" She slowed her progress, wanting to surprise her brother and his friend.

A yelp meant that whoever was chasing whom had caught him. Probably it was Elias, the taller and older, by a year, of Father's two squires. She stepped forward to make herself known. She froze.

It was indeed Elias who had caught his friend. He had the boy with his tangle of brown curls pressed up against the trunk of a tree, his own hands on either side of his shoulders trapping him. It was what Elias was doing now that rooted Elisabeth to the spot. He leaned slowly forward, bringing his face down to the smiling Albrecht's, and he kissed him. Kissed him! He kissed him on the mouth, and Albrecht responded. The captive reached up his own arms and put them around the taller boy's body and they melted together in an embrace that communicated it somehow right to Elisabeth's belly.

Taking one step backward at a time, the girl put the coppice between herself and the boys. Conflicting impulses assailed her. She wanted to turn and run all the way back to the manor. She wanted to burst in on them and demand an explanation. She followed another impulse instead, walking quietly to the spot by the brook where she sat on her favorite boulder. Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her chin to rest on them.

What were Elias and Albrecht doing? She knew perfectly well what. She just had not realized boys would do that with each other.

The twins, Elias and Elisabeth, had been inseparable until three years ago when Albrecht von Langenzenn had come to Winterkirche from his own family's manor to become a knight-in-training as Sigismund of Winterkirche's squire. It was then, Elisabeth now realized, that the bond between the twins had loosened. Though the three children were friends, she became aware of a special new bond between the boys. She complained to her mother about it. Adalberta stroked her soft brown hair and assured her that Elias was of an age where he needed companions of his own sex. A pouting Elisabeth nevertheless said nothing to her brother that she felt abandoned.

Sitting on the rock the girl stared unseeing at the brook as it flowed tumbling over fallen branches and the stones of its streambed. Should she tell Mother about what she saw? Her innate loyalty to her twin above all others caused her to say "No!" aloud to the brook, the trees, and the birds around her. But wasn't it a sin? Were you not supposed to get married before you kissed anyone like that, and if so, how could two boys get married? She had never heard of such a thing. Should she say something to Elias himself? He would explain it to her. He was so kind and so wise. He would make it all right.

A shrill blast of a horn made Elisabeth look up and turned her head toward the manor. Father! It was Father, back from his journey to see Emperor Henry. She leaped to her feet and ran nearly to where she had spied on the two squires. Taking careful steps so as not to surprise the boys, whom she could not see but could hear giggling, she shouted, "Elias! Father is home!"

Not waiting for her brother and his friend to join her, she turned and dashed back toward the walled compound that was the Knight Sigismund's. Normally she would have made for an open wicket in the gate, but the two halves of the stout wooden barrier stood wide open now that the horses and men were trailing in. She slipped by the last stragglers into the courtyard. It was indeed her father, just now walking his horse to where grooms stood ready to take his reins. Mother stood in the doorway to the hall with her tired smile offered for her beloved husband.

"Papa! Papa!" Elisabeth cried, dashing up to join Sigismund as, dismounting, he went to his lady and returned her smile. He turned his head to see Elisabeth's bright face at his elbow. "Liebchen, darling, look at you. Every time I see you, you are taller! And prettier!"

He threw one arm around her shoulders and the other around his wife's. "Where is Elias?" he asked, drawing both of them up the stone steps to the hall.

"He's coming," his daughter replied, the excitement of her father's return banishing any other thoughts from her mind.

Sigismund did not hear her reply, as he was speaking excitedly to his wife as they entered the high-raftered room.

"His name is Peter the Hermit, a priest from Amiens, my dear, and I cannot wait to tell you what he said."

"Child!" It was the serving-woman, Marta, who appeared and beckoned to Elisabeth. "For shame, to greet your lord father with your gown all in a mess! Come here!"

Elisabeth stopped and shook her head. "But . . . ," she protested.

"You have plenty of time to hear your father's news, whatever it may be. Do you not want to look your best for him? I mean, look at your mother, so lovely, so groomed. You look like a cotter's brat."

Letting the woman draw her away, Elisabeth looked back at her parents. Indeed, Adalberta was lovely. Wan and sickly as she was, she nevertheless was dressed immaculately and glowed with pleasure as she went to the table by the fire, her arm tucked in her husband's.

A movement nearer the door caught the girl's attention. "Marta, look at Elias. He is all over leaves and sticks and mud. Why do you not chastise him?"

"He's a boy. He is supposed to roughhouse. Now come."

Elisabeth sulked. There it was again. How she wished she were a boy.

Scrubbed, dressed in a more grown-up gown, her braids brushed and plaited again and coiled on either side of her head, Elisabeth was finally permitted to join her parents in the hall. Her sulk disappeared when, seeing her, Sigismund called out "Darling girl!" He stood and bent, his arms out to enfold her in his embrace. When she stopped before him, he had to straighten up. "I said it before. You are getting so tall! Tall as your brother, I'll warrant. Here, Elias, come stand here by your sister. Yes, look at this, my wife. They are almost of a height."

The twins stood before their father. Elias was a respectable height for a boy of fifteen, but Elisabeth, hardly any shorter, was over-tall for a girl. They could, of course, not be identical twins, but to look at them you would say they may as well be. Elias's hair, the exact color as his sister's, a light brown, was cropped while hers was coiled in braids. Their dark brown eyes and rich eyelashes were the same. Their noses were small, too small for a boy, just right for a girl, and both had high, sculpted cheekbones and large square jaws. Elisabeth saw that Elias was starting to show some fuzz on his chin, and she was green with envy.

"Now you two, come sit with your mother and me. You as well, Albrecht. This concerns you too." Sigismund returned to his own chair next to Adalberta. The three young people took seats usually reserved for guests. Elias and Albrecht normally served at table, being squires, and Elisabeth stood behind her mother during meals to see to her needs.

"His Holiness has had a plea from the Byzantine Emperor Alexios," Father was saying. "There have been attacks on pilgrims to the Holy Land, hundreds killed, hundreds carried off to the slave markets. The Paynim no longer protect the pilgrimage routes, but let brigands have a free hand. There are rumors that some of the Turk leaders are sending their own guards to attack larger bands of pilgrims."

Adalberta put her hand to her lips, "No, how horrible. Why?"

The three young people turned their eyes back to Sigismund in unison.

"Well, there have always been brigands, but they have attacked randomly. Pilgrim bands that hired armed men to protect them could turn brigands away. No one really knows why that has changed, but Peter the Hermit said . . . "

Elias interrupted his father. "Peter the Hermit?" Elisabeth noted not for the first time how deep his voice had become.

"A French priest. He is in Cologne to gather pilgrims for a journey to the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem," Sigismund said.

"Not much of a hermit, is he?" Elias quipped, earning a short laugh from his sister and a glare from both parents.

"Show some respect," Adalberta corrected. "He is a very holy man."

Sigismund took a gulp of the wine a servant had brought. His men, having seen to the disposition of their horses, were wandering into the hall and taking seats or leaning up against the timber walls to listen to their lord's account of the hermit's tale.

"He tried to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem before, but he was captured by the Seljuk Turks in Anatolia and tortured."

Adalberta's eyes grew round.

"Why?" asked her daughter.

Sigismund sat forward, shaking his head. "They are heathens. They are devils. Cruel and rapacious. They are the enemy of all good Christians."

"But a priest!" his wife cried unbelieving.

Albrecht shyly spoke up. "Mayhap they are even more violent with our holy men?"

The knight nodded. "It will seem so, lad."

Adalberta's eyes were guarded as she asked, "And this Peter . . . from Amiens, you say? He is gathering a multitude? To do what, my lord?" she asked.

"To return to the Holy Land and take Jerusalem back."

"He is gathering an army?" Elias's voice held a note of excitement. Elisabeth cast an alarmed look in his direction. Elias had been itching to be in a fight. He had been disappointed when their father had failed to take him and Albrecht to Cologne for the meeting with the Emperor's representatives. Both boys hoped the meeting was to plan war.

"No, not exactly," his father replied, noting Elias's crestfallen reaction. "He is calling it a People's Crusade. Just the poor, the destitute who are under the care of Holy Church. But to hear him speak! It was inspiring. He said, 'Deus lo volt.' God wills it. We could not help but shout it back to him, every one of us in the throng."

Elias leaned to Albrecht and whispered, "I would wager the local bishops would not be sorry to see their burden thus eased. . . . "

"Elias!" Sigismund's eyes were flaming. "Enough with your impious comments!" The knight glared at his chastened son, then slowly turned his face back to his wife. "Liebchen, I am going."

Adalberta hid her dismay. "I thought you might," was all she said.

"Then it is not just peasants going?" Elisabeth asked.

Her father sat up straight, squaring his shoulders. "They will need protection. Many of the Emperor's commanders and officers are asking for leave to go with them." He looked sharply back at his wife. "I shall not go, if you are ill and need me here." His eyes revealed his reluctance to make such a promise. In a gentle voice meant only for her ears he added, "But it is in large part to kneel at the Sepulcher and pray for your health and long life that I wish to go."

Before the lady could reply, Elias burst out, "Then Albrecht and I are coming with you?" He beamed at his friend, who returned the smile, but with anxiety written on his face.

Elisabeth looked from her father to brother to Albrecht and back again. A glance at her mother's averted face told her Adalberta would not hold her husband back, no matter her misgivings. Tentatively the girl inserted, "Mother has been very weak of late."

"Nonsense, girl. It's just the season. You know how tired I get in the winter." Adalberta shook her head almost imperceptibly at her daughter, begging her not to say more. "It is March. With the spring I will grow strong again."

She continued to watch her mother as the men talked excitedly of their upcoming adventure.

Elisabeth gazed at her mother. Adalberta del Luzio of Lombardy had never been strong, and the midwife told her that giving birth to her twins had weakened her further. The children, as they grew, were used to a mother who did not stir much from the manor, staying quiet and taking to her bed often. The twins were each other's support, as Sigismund was often away in one of the Holy Roman Emperor's frequent wrangling battles with the Pope. Elisabeth spent all the time she could with her brother, playing at boys' games, ultimately begging him to impart all he learned from his weapons master when they were old enough for Elias to be trained. Their mother tried to teach the girl the feminine arts of needlework and to instruct her in seemly comportment, but the moment the ailing woman took to her chambers, Elisabeth was out like a shot looking for her twin and diligently mastering every masculine skill he gained.

They were accustomed to their mother's retiring life, but Elisabeth thought her mother had become paler of late. She had frequent debilitating headaches. Her joints were swollen and tender. During the occasional periods when Sigismund was not off serving his Emperor, Adalberta masqueraded as best she could.

Looking at her now, her daughter could see she was lagging. Adalberta leaned to whisper in her husband's ear. He looked at her sharply, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. "Are you sure? Are you well enough?"

Adalberta deftly feigned enthusiasm. "I am, my lord, and it has been some time."

Sigismund grinned delightedly. To the company in the hall he proclaimed, "I and my lady are tired and wish to seek our bed for a nap." He looked down when a few suggestive comments came from his men. "My love, go on up to our chamber. I would speak with our daughter." He kissed his wife on the cheek as she rose and made her way to the stairs.

He watched his wife's retreating figure, then gestured to his daughter. "My dear, I have some excellent tidings for you. Come with me."

Elisabeth was already focused on her father, wondering what it was he had to tell her. Now she stood, exchanged puzzled looks with her twin brother, and followed their father to where he stopped near the foot of the stairs Adalberta had mounted. "Yes, Papa?" she asked.

Sigismund hesitated, unsure how his daughter would take the news he had brought her. "Liebchen, you are almost sixteen now, a woman. Your mother and I have neglected plans for your future."

Elisabeth eyed him warily.

"I have betrothed you to a fine man, a Freiherr of the Duke of Bavaria, I think you know him."

Elisabeth's face went white. "Oh no, Papa, please! I do not wish to marry."

Resigned, Sigismund looked sternly into the girl's eyes. "But you must. Unless of course, you wish to take the veil. I did not think so," he went on when she recoiled at the suggestion. "You will need a home and children like any other woman, and I have chosen a man of noble blood and excellent reputation who will provide for you and protect you."

Elisabeth stared, unbelieving. "Wh-who?"

"The Baron Reinhardt von Linkshändig. You remember some years ago when he came here?"

"B-but I thought he was married!" she stammered.

Sigismund put an arm around her and looked at the rushes on the floor. "He was. He lost his wife in childbed. Actually, both of his wives. He is twice a widower." He raised his head to look compassionately into her eyes. "My darling, he is a good man, a great knight and loyal subject of the Emperor. He is going on the pilgrimage with me. Now promise you will think about this, pray about it, and see the wisdom in it. Your brother will marry and his wife will not want a spinster sister about. And you will want a household of your own. You know that's true."

Elisabeth nodded dumbly. "Yes, Papa."

"You will be married before we set out."

To Elisabeth his words sounded like a death knell.

The household plunged into activity at once. Despite anxiety for his wife, Sigismund could not hide his anticipation. Elias and Albrecht did not even try.

Elisabeth found herself left out of the boys' preparations. She could only stand on the periphery and watch glumly as the three men in her life spent every waking moment arranging to leave her behind and to a fate she could not comprehend. She realized how much more her mother must dread this parting. Though they had rarely talked, mother to daughter, she sought her out and confided.

"Mama, how will we bear it?" she sighed while the two sat together in Adalberta's solar.

The older woman put a comforting hand on her daughter's supple one. "That is our lot, my dear. Women wait while men go abroad."

"Men are so selfish!" Elisabeth could not restrain her outburst.

Her mother shook her head. "Nay, it is not selfishness. It is duty. Theirs is to obey their masters. Ours is to obey them."

"I don't understand why it has to be like that. Peasant men and women work together in almost everything. I have seen them, side by side in the fields, planting or harvesting. Why can we not do the same? And why do they have to go to war anyway? It seems to me that life would be so much better without going to war." The girl's face held a petulant sort of challenge.

Sighing, her mother shook her head. "I have failed you, my daughter, and for that I am most heartily sorry. I have not spent the time with you that I should. You spend all your time in your brother's company, never learning what it is to be a woman. I hoped Marta would fill my place, but she is even more indulgent than I." Reaching to cradle her daughter's chin in her palm, she drew Elisabeth's reluctant eyes to her own. "Perhaps it is best if my lord does go to the Holy Land and prays for my health. Perhaps it is not too late for me to spend the time with you I have neglected. There is so much you have to learn before you are wed."

Fear clouded Elisabeth's eyes. "And that is another thing! I hardly know Reinhardt. What I do remember I did not like."

"He is strong and can provide for you and your children. He is an honorable man you can be proud of." She let go her daughter's chin. "It is for the best."

Elisabeth stood and stepped stiffly to the window embrasure. "I shan't need to be provided for. I will die giving birth to his brats just like his other wives. That's all women are for. To have babies then die." Her thoughtless words hit her like a slap. She whirled to face her mother. "Oh, my dearest Mama, I am so sorry! I did not mean . . . "

Adalberta shook her head compassionately. "I know you did not mean to hurt my feelings. And truly, darling, I understand your fear. You cannot know the joys that make it all worthwhile. The companionship of your husband, the satisfaction of running your household, and, most of all, the love for your children." She put out her thin arms to her daughter who went to her, knelt, and leaned into the embrace.

"You have Papa. He loves you. That is why you endure it all."

Pressing Elisabeth's head to her breast, she reassured, "Your Papa and I love each other very much, and it is true. But we did not even know each other when we were wed. Love came over time. And from our union came you and your brother. Just think, if I had thought like you do now, none of that could have ever come about."

The girl nodded her head against her mother's body. "I don't understand how Papa can go and leave you suffering."

"It is because I am suffering that he is going!"

Looking up at her mother's strained expression, Elisabeth shook her head. "I know that, Mama, but it is more. He wants to go. Almost as much as Elias and Albrecht. Why do they want to go and leave us behind?"

The knight's wife pulled her daughter up so she would sit beside her on the settle. Putting her arm around the girl's waist she chuckled. "I think you know why the boys want to go. As for your father." She paused. "Let me see if I can explain it. Your father was ever a loyal man to Emperor Henry, in spite of the great man's petty quarrels with the Holy Father. Over the years he has become disillusioned. He says that he now believes that the Emperor has used the disputes simply for his own arrogant purposes." She leaned her head on her daughter's. "You know your father is a brave and honorable knight. He needs to turn his energies to a worthy cause. He needs . . . redemption."

Elisabeth subsided. "I know, Mama. But I will miss them all. And I will worry as well."

"As will I, dearest. As will I." She lifted her head and leaned to look into Elisabeth's face. "But think of it, liebchen, we have a wedding to plan! Is that not exciting too?"

Without conviction, the young girl answered, "Yes, Mama."

Yes, Elisabeth felt left out of everything that involved her brother and his friend. They were almost giddy with the preparations, the bond that had developed between them magnified by the prospect.

Natural, her mother had said, and no doubt she was right. But there was more. She could feel it, but she could not put words to her feeling. There was a bond between her brother and the squire that went beyond comradeship. She chided herself for her jealousy. She knew perfectly well that she and Elias, as close as they always had been, would someday separate. She would marry the baron, or some other man, and Elias would wed and become the Ritter of Winterkirche. Perhaps that was all it was. She was anticipating the separation especially now that the pilgrimage hastened it.

Try as she might however she could not shake the sense that something she could not be part of was developing. She again thought to talk with her mother about it, but an intuition told her this would be a betrayal of the trust she and Elias shared. She was uncertain why that would be, but she was no less sure.

As she watched the boys, Elisabeth started to notice things. Looks. Touches. Intimate smiles. She ventured to tease Elias into explaining. "I swear, Elias, I might think Albrecht is your brother, or maybe more than that." She meant nothing but to elicit a reaction, and she got it.

Elias's face went pale and his eyes slid away from hers. "W-what do you mean?"

Startled, Elisabeth laughed. "Oh nothing. Just that you are so tight. I begin to wonder if you have forgotten all about me."

Elias heard the appeal in her voice. "Oh my dear sister, never fear that. You are my one and only, my twin. No one, not a . . . friend . . . or a bride . . . or anyone else could ever sever our ties." He put a gentle palm on her cheek. He looked tenderly into her face. "Albrecht and I just have so much planning to do."

Though his tone lacked complete conviction, she smiled her reassurance. "Oh, Elias, I do understand. I think I am just jealous of the excitement. I want to go with you."

A twinkle in his eye, Elias leaned confidentially to her. "I can tell you, I wish you were too. I don't want to leave you behind. But that is the way the world works."

She pouted, making him laugh. "It's not fair."

An hour later she saw Elias and Albrecht together, deep in some private conversation. Elias was speaking, and Albrecht's face blanched. He looked about furtively, then back, earnestly, at Elias. He seemed to ask something, looking as if he feared the answer. Elias shook his head, causing the dark-haired boy to look relieved. The two boys glanced about and walked in opposite directions.

Elisabeth needed more than ever to speak to someone. Who was there? A thought came to her. Magdalena, the woman who lived in a hut in the woods. She lived like a nun, though she was of no particular order. Some called her a saint, some a witch, but most simply brought her what they could of their own food and discarded clothing, respecting her wish to be alone.

Approaching the simple hut, no more than rough wood planks with a turf roof, Elisabeth could hear the woman somewhere outside singing a hymn. There was a drumming sound that she identified as churning. People brought big jugs of milk, which the woman turned into butter or pot cheese for them, freeing them for other work. The girl hurried forward and around the hut to see the woman at work.

"Magdalena!"

The woman looked up from her task. Her clothes were others' castoffs, often patched and patched again. Her hair was tied up in a cloth, but it need not have been, for she kept her hair shorn almost to the root. Her smile lit her plain face as she saw the girl. "Elisabeth, how pleasant to see you. Come, sit, and talk to me while I finish the butter."

This was far from the first visit that Elisabeth had made to the solitary woman. Anchorites were religious men and women who chose to keep to themselves to live in simplicity and prayer. Many walled themselves up in churches and accepted the charity of those who visited and who asked the anchorite for blessings. But not all entombed themselves. Some were little more than hermits, living away from society.

Elisabeth once asked the woman, whom she had found out here on one of the twins' meanderings why she did not like to be around people. The woman had chuckled and responded, tousling the girl's hair, "It is not that I do not want to be with people. It is that I want to be closer to God. Many people can do that in their own hearts. I have not that ability. I find I must have solitude and quiet. That is why I live out here."

To her child's mind, Elisabeth found this reasoning quite understandable. She accepted it, as did Elias, and they visited as often as they had things to bring the woman hermit from the manor and whenever they had questions or troubles they needed answers to.

"I hear that the men of the manor are preparing to go to the Holy Land," Magdalena stated as she resumed the pumping motion with the churn.

Sitting on a low stool that sat in the yard, Elisabeth nodded sadly. "Yes, they are. They are going to take back Jerusalem from the heathens."

Magdalena looked up and sideways. "They are going to war, then."

Elisabeth nodded.

"Are you afraid for Elias? For your father?"

Elisabeth's dark eyes were full of regret. "Yes, and Albrecht." She thought she saw some recognition in the woman's face. "You have met Albrecht haven't you?"

"Indeed, I have, a fine young man. Very devoted to your family."

Elisabeth let her gaze rest on the woman's face. "He and Elias are . . . well . . . very close."

One eyebrow lifted on the woman's face. "Yes, I have seen them together."

Elisabeth stood and meandered thoughtlessly about the yard, touching a fence post, clothes hung on a line, the windowsill of the hut. "One time . . ." she began.

Magdalena stopped churning. She wiped her hands on her makeshift apron and put them on her hips. She waited for the girl to speak.

Elisabeth glanced up when she realized she had every bit of Magdalena's attention. "Oh, I don't know. I saw something . . . it puzzled me."

The woman sighed. "Come sit with me in the shade. I think we need to talk."

Elisabeth's heart beat faster. Was it possible that this woman could explain the kiss, the looks, and the touches? She hesitated, then followed her over to where a crude bench rested under a linden tree. The woman patted the bench beside her, and the girl obediently sat.

Magdalena put her arm around Elisabeth's shoulders. "What did you see?"

Taking a very deep breath, Elisabeth whispered, "I saw them . . . kissing."

"Each other?"

Glancing sideways into the woman's face, the girl breathed, "Yes. Like the way they kiss girls. On the lips. And there was more."

The woman was quiet for a moment. "Where were they?"

"Up in the coppice by the waterfall. They did not know I saw them. But when I said something to Elias, just this morning, he seemed scared. He talked to Albrecht and then they both seemed scared."

Nodding, the woman asked, "Have you said anything to your parents?"

Shaking her head, Elisabeth replied, "No. Something told me I shouldn't."

A wan smile played on the woman's lips. "That is right. It is something Elias must do himself, but only if and when he chooses." She paused. "Elisabeth, you must not tell anyone, for Elias's sake. Few people will understand, they will think vile things. They might want to hurt Elias and Albrecht."

"Why?" Elisabeth's voice trembled.

"Elias and Albrecht love each other. Just as your mother and father do. Just as I . . . " Magdalena's voice faded out. "Just as I did once. Just as you will love someone someday."

Elisabeth stared at her. "But they are both boys."

"That does not matter. Love is love. You do not choose with whom you will share it. Love chooses you . . . and the other."

The girl looked down at the ground beside the bench. "But they can't get married, can they? It would be a sin."

A small chuckle from Magdalena surprised the girl into looking up at her again. "God did not create sin, my dear," she said warmly. "Men created sin. They also created the Church to tell people about it, and to punish those who did it."

"Will Elias be punished?"

"Heaven forefend, I hope not. That's why you must not tell anyone. I don't think Elias need worry. He is of too grand a family. But Albrecht . . . he is of a humbler station, is he not?"

"He is." Elisabeth pondered. "So it is not a sin for a man to love a man? Like that, I mean?"

"Love, real love, is never sin," Magdalena stated firmly.

The girl sat on, thinking about all the ramifications of what she had just learned. "So Elias could never love a woman?"

Magdalena chided, "Not necessarily. Men . . . like your brother . . . sometimes, even often, marry women. They do it for many reasons, because they are expected to, to produce heirs. Because they think they can change or at least hide their truer nature. Or they think they will get the woman's lands and still be able to keep their lover. It is not good to marry someone you don't love, but it happens all the time."

"I know. It is going to happen to me." Elisabeth's lips twisted in a grimace. "Reinhardt. I will never love him."

Magdalena squeezed her against her side. "You don't know that. But I will ask God to look after you and take care of you, no matter what happens."

"I wish I could go with Elias. To the Holy Land, I mean. Men get to do whatever they want. It's not fair."

"Oh, women can do whatever they want. They just usually don't want to give up what they must for it."

When Elisabeth looked at Magdalena, the woman was smiling. "What do you mean? I want to go to the Holy Land. But there's no chance I could go. They wouldn't let me."

The woman shrugged. "If you really wanted to go, you would find a way. Perhaps you will find a way." She laughed aloud at the girl's shocked face, crinkling her eyes and throwing her head back in merriment. "I wish you could see your face! You would think I just told you to sprout wings and fly." She thought to herself, "Perhaps I just have."

Elisabeth's thoughts were awhirl. She could not slow them down long enough to make sense of them. She sighed.