The castle looked like an oversized, whitewashed house with a hipped roof and red-and-white window shutters. In the leveled courtyard stood six beige round tents. Several shelters for horses and pack animals, made of red-black cloth, were erected. In between, sacks of coarse fabric and wooden crates were scattered. In enclosures, chickens clucked and pigs grunted.

The locator dismounted from his gray horse and handed the reins to Curt. Elias beckoned the knights Otto and Gottfried to join him, and together they marched towards the castle. They crossed the drawbridge, whose dark wood appeared rotten and creaked worryingly under the weight of the three men. Then they disappeared inside the building.

"That over there is your tent," Curt pointed to one with its flap rolled up, allowing Gisel to see inside. Curt turned to a servant and beckoned him over. The man was neatly dressed in a natural-colored shirt and brown leg coverings but had a crooked back. He shuffled over, took the locator's gray horse, and led it away to be groomed. Curt himself supervised the unloading of the mules by two more workers.

A gray smoke from a campfire rose near the castle wall, away from the tents. Above the flames, a cooking pot dangled from a tripod. A plump woman with a white veil around her round face stirred the stew with a ladle. The air smelled of a mix of dung, smoke, and cooked vegetables. Around the campfire, seven men and women sat on three benches, talking loudly. It seemed like a convivial group. Gisel was pleased. These were her new companions.

Gisel's stomach growled. Since leaving Passau, she had only eaten a little bread and dried fruit. Early in the year, there was nothing edible to be found along the way.

"I can't take another step today. And I'm starving!" Gisel dropped her bag on the spot, turned away from Lorenz, and limped towards the campfire. The people fell silent and turned their heads towards the newcomers.

The woman at the cooking pot openly sized up Gisel. A bearded man with leathery skin and dull curls slid to the side on the middle bench. Tapping the wood with his hand, he grinned broadly, "Over here, pretty lady! There's room here!" His accent was rough, and he shortened his words significantly.

"Christian!" The woman's face turned red, and she planted her hands on her hips. The man called Christian ducked his head as if he had been reprimanded by her before.

Lorenz put his hand on Gisel's hip. "I'm sorry, my lord, Gisel is already spoken for!" His face remained serious, incongruent with his casual remark.

A deep crease formed on the forehead of the woman at the soup pot. "My husband just can't keep his hands to himself!" she snapped, threateningly raising the ladle.

A tall woman with a pale face, gray dress, and ordinary linen cap handed Gisel a steaming bowl of stew. The contents spilled over Gisel's hand, causing a searing pain, but she bit her lip and controlled herself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Silly me!" The tall woman looked embarrassed, but her eyes sparkled maliciously. Did she spill the boiling soup on purpose?

Lorenz led Gisel away from Christian to a bench on his right, where only a man and his wife sat, leaving space.

"Yes, come, sit with us!" The voice of the man at the other end of the bench was deep and friendly. He had short, thinning hair and a brown stubble beard. He grinned slyly, probably over thirty.

"I'm Jakob. This is Katharina," he introduced himself and the woman next to him. She looked friendly, albeit a bit worn. Her skin appeared dull and sickly, and her tired eyes were almost as dark as her black hair. Still, she forced a smile.

"We are Lorenz and Gisel," Lorenz replied. Gisel blew on a spoonful of stew and tasted it. It was spicy and smoky, comforting to have something in her stomach. The campfire's heat warmed her cheeks, and a pleasant shiver ran down her spine. She stretched out her aching legs. Her feet stung and burned. Yet, Gisel was relieved. They had passed the first hurdle!

"You're arriving late! Did you come with the locator from Passau?" Jakob raised his eyebrows.

Lorenz nodded. "Yes, we crossed the ferry at dawn.

Since then, we've been on the road." He also received a wooden bowl of soup from the tall woman in the gray dress, this time accompanied by a smile.

"From Passau!" the stout cook exclaimed in disbelief and sat down beside her husband on the spot he had previously offered to Gisel.

"We're all farmers from around here," explained the man sitting next to Christian. An attractive man, Gisel thought. His smooth, shiny hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Did he look better than the locator? Certainly more vain.

"Lorenz is a carpenter. I've worked in a monastery and am familiar with herbs," Gisel proudly explained. She immediately regretted it as the dark-haired man sitting opposite her, with a short, black beard, responded with a dismissive grunt, and the woman who had handed out the soup bowls gave her a stern look. Were they jealous? Skeptical? Gisel chose not to mention that she had been a serf at the monastery. Let them think she was a maid or a nun who had broken her vows. She didn't know these people and couldn't gauge whether they would judge her for her past. So, she had to endure the settlers' suspicious looks, which spoke of their distrust towards city dwellers.

Jakob, however, continued in a chatty tone. "We are from Falkenbach. The four to our left are from Köppenreut, the neighboring village to Falkenbach. We always go to the same mill to grind our flour." He laughed. "Once, we drank with the miller for so long that we all fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next morning. The flour was never so finely ground. But we had trouble with our wives at home!"

He pointed out each person in turn. "Ingrid." That was the stout cook. "Christian." Her husband with the long, wild hair. "Stephan." The attractive man next to Christian. "Agnes." The tall woman in the gray dress and pale face.

"And those two?" Gisel asked Jakob in a restrained voice, pointing to the couple on the opposite bench. The man's hair, who had earlier growled at her disapprovingly, was stringy, and his cheeks were pockmarked. The woman wore a white headscarf framing her plump face, with blonde strands peeking out. They looked young and unremarkable, both silent and staring into the flames.

"Hartmut and Maria? They're from Oberndorf. We've only known them since today," Jakob shrugged.

As Hartmut heard his name, he looked up and glared at Gisel. "We may be simple farmers, but we've been cultivating the land for years," he stated.

The handsome Stephan with the ponytail nodded affirmatively. "We are one with the fields, meadows, and forests. We know which clouds bring rain, when to sow the grain, and which animals are best for plowing."

"Let's see how long you two city dwellers can keep up with us!" he said maliciously, spitting on the ground.

"Oh, come on, be peaceful and eat!" Jakob said, chewing and dipping a piece of bread into the stew. Gisel was grateful that he stood up for her.

As they ate, the locator and Curt approached the campfire. Gisel looked up from her bowl and observed the locator. He was a striking man, standing there with his angular face and broad shoulders. He looked around the group.

But it was Curt who cleared his throat and then raised his voice. "Listen, the locator has something to say!"

The settlers fell silent, lowered their bowls, and turned their faces to the locator.

The locator raised his hands, using calm gestures to underline his words. He spoke with a firm voice, looking each person in the eye. "Men and women! The time has finally come! Tomorrow we set off for Aigen. After months of preparation, we will take possession of our settlement site! Months in which we have eagerly anticipated our common dream! Now we will pitch our tents, clear the forest, and build our houses with its wood. With united efforts, we will take over the land. Wherever we can, we will help each other. Each one of us, every individual, is a fellow villager and member of this community! Our collaboration is crucial to the success of this venture. If one does not pull their weight, it endangers our entire community! So remember what unites us: the dream of an independent life. Each of us should have a share of it. No one should be taken advantage of or treated unfairly. I stand by that with my name." The locator pounded his chest with his fist and looked around. Then he raised his arm high. "Men and women! Let's do this! Together we can make it! Let's make our dream come true!"

The settlers banged on the benches enthusiastically.

Stephan jumped up and clapped. "Yes! Let's get to it!"

Jakob pulled Katharina to him and hugged her.

Gisel felt a warmth inside her, whether from the flames or the locator's words, she couldn't tell. She threw her hands in the air and cheered loudly with the others. When she nudged Lorenz, he toppled over like a wet sack.

He got up and looked at Gisel, his expression unreadable.

Lorenz stood up. "I'm going to bed!"

Gisel raised her eyebrows in surprise. "But don't you want to sit by the campfire a little longer?" She was too excited to sleep now. She surveyed the settlers, her gaze crossing with Christian's. When he smiled at her, his wife Ingrid pinched his leg. Frowning, Ingrid looked over at Gisel. She was becoming increasingly eerie to Gisel.

Quickly, Gisel also stood up. "Wait, Lorenz! I'll come with you!"

Lorenz was already heading towards the tent. As she slipped past the benches, Ingrid elbowed her in the side. Gisel staggered.

"Hey, what...?" Gisel cut herself off.

Ingrid looked at her challengingly.

Gisel hesitated. What should she do? Argue with Ingrid and start an open conflict? Better not! Gisel swallowed her anger. "Just wait!" she called out and ran after Lorenz.

At the top of the round tent, where the poles converged, Lorenz had hung a wooden lantern. The candlelight shimmered warmly and bathed the interior in a cozy atmosphere. The flame cast speckled shadows on the rough tent fabric. Cold air crept in through the gap between the grass and the tent. Gisel spread out the rush mats, which stood in the corner, on the floor. She sat down and took off her shoes. Her feet were swollen and chafed at the heel. She had a blister on her big toe.

"Now we're here," Gisel said, dabbing carefully at the sore spots. Along the way, she had picked yarrow. She crushed the white flowers with her fingers and wrapped them with a piece of cloth around her ankles.

"And most importantly, we're still alive!" Lorenz sat down next to her and also took off his boots. His leggings emitted a sharp, sweaty smell.

Gisel watched Lorenz. "It's my fault that you have to endure these hardships. The attack, the long journey here. And there's more to come. I can't thank you enough!"

He grinned slyly. "I know a way you can thank me."

Gisel pretended not to hear his insinuation and let her emotions flow. "Year in, year out, I dreamed of being freed from the torment of the monastery. We knew it wouldn't be easy. Without you, I'd still be in Vornbach Monastery. But now we're in the Freiung, and we have each other!" She hugged Lorenz tightly, smelling the spicy scent of yarrow on her fingers. From outside, the melodic sounds of a lute and the cheerful singing of the settlers drifted in.

Lorenz beamed and kissed her on the cheek. "The other men were really jealous of me!"

Gisel lay down on the rush mat and spread the blanket over herself. The ground was hard and cool.

Lorenz pulled Gisel to him. "Come here! Do you know how proud I am to have you as my wife? I'd follow you anywhere! Even to the ends of the earth!"

Gisel sighed. Lorenz was the first person to hold her like her mother did. However, he felt not warm and soft, but rather awkward. Now he also put his hand on her breast and kneaded it. Gisel tensed up again. How much she longed to just let go. But Lorenz did not grant her that favor. Eagerly, he claimed his right as a husband, pulled up her shirt, and groaned as he rolled on top of her. Gisel stared at the light on the ceiling and endured it. She felt for the coin around her neck. She gripped it tightly. She didn't love Lorenz, but she needed him.

Additionally, there was a disturbance in their relationship. One image had particularly burned itself into her mind – Lorenz, a miserable heap, under the corpse.