of pain-sharpened lucidity. The burst of calm must have been divine in nature—the same grace that allowed the saints to face their own martyrdom.
It was with that sudden clarity that he grabbed the crossbow bolt, brought it up, and jammed the point into the creature’s left eye with all the force he could muster.
The beast howled, letting loose its grip on his stomach. Josef fell back into the mud, feeling his life spilling out of the hole in his belly. Before he lost his grip on the world, he saw the monster retreat, the bolt sticking awkwardly out of its face.
Josef lost consciousness praying he had finished the beast.
II
Maria sang to herself during the two-mile-long walk from her family’s farm to Gród Narew. Sometimes she would sing small snippets of hymns, but right now she was having a more daring moment. The song was one of the bawdier ballads she had heard the knights of the szlachta singing when she served them in the large dining hall at Gród Narew.
She started singing low, but as she walked through the dense woods, she unconsciously raised her voice with every verse. When she reached the lightning-blasted oak that marked the midpoint between her farm and the fortress, she completed the song, singing at full volume of the conquest of the virile knight over the reluctant maiden. When the words of their consummate act echoed back from the woods around her, she paused a moment with burning cheeks and an embarrassed smile.
Her father would definitely not approve. He was very strict and ever wary of the Devil and his attempts to intrude into their lives. Song was one of those avenues he saw as allowing the Devil in. Maria’s hand unconsciously lifted between her breasts to feel the small silver cross she wore under her chemise. It was still there, still protecting her from the Devil.
She glanced up at the sky, gauging the advance of dawn. The sky above shone a light pink through the trees. She couldn’t see the horizon, but a glow around some of the tallest branches showed that the sun had just peeked above the ground. Just as she started thinking that she had taken too long in her trek through the woods, she heard the clanging of the bell at the fortress, marking the first hour of the day.
She sighed. She should be leaving the dense woods crowding Gród Narew, and here she was barely at the halfway point. She had spent too long with her chores at the farm. Now she was going to reach the fortress just as the stable hands would start working the horses. She clutched her cross more tightly and said a short prayer that God would keep her safe not only from the Devil himself, but also from one of the Devil’s more petty minions.
The sun had fully risen by the time she left the woods and walked the path up the conical hillside toward the looming timber walls of Gród Narew. She walked up past wide stonewalled fields where sheep and goats grazed. The best pasture, though, was closest to the fortress walls, and reserved for the horses of the szlachta.
She hurried past the mounts of the nobility, hoping to make the gate before anyone saw her. But she knew that she had failed to escape as soon as the smells of manure and rotten cheese advanced upon her. Her daily nemesis, Lukasz, came from whatever chores he was in the midst of and vaulted the stone fence, landing on the path directly in front of her.
“You wound me, my fair Maria.” He gave her a gap-toothed smile and reached for her with a filth-crusted hand. She backed up so that he pawed air rather than her chemise.
“Wound you? You seem quite hale.” Maria stepped to the side to go around the man. She hated being a target for this brute, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. He was the personal servant to one of Bolesław’s knights, while she was only here to ease the burden of her family’s debts to the lord of Gród Narew. While he supposedly held no more status or rights than she did, as a practical matter he was almost noble himself. He was also the type of man who didn’t let anyone forget it.
Today, Lukasz seemed particularly amorous, and he reached out again, grabbing her arm as she passed. “In my heart, fair maiden. You wound my heart, passing without so much